Three Hundred Words (4 page)

Maybe I shouldn’t
want to see what he was like in real life. Then it felt like I was cheating
worse, somehow.

I had to break up
with Luke in the next couple of days. I wasn’t being fair. The day after Emma’s
birthday should be acceptable; I didn’t want to ruin her birthday by having
drama between two of her guests. The day after would be perfect.

I tied my hair in
a knot to avoid getting it wet and stepped into the hot water, letting it seep
into my aching muscles. I was just having dinner with my teacher.

Mr. Lane was an
idiot risking his job for me. I wasn’t special in any way and he was more than
attractive enough to pick up anyone he wanted if it was just sex he was after.
Maybe he longed for the excitement of our forbidden liaison.

I knew it was
making everything just that much better in the moments I was actually with him.

It was only when I
went home and I was left to remember what a bad person I was that it lulled a
bit. Mr. Lane didn’t have that to contend with. There was only the issue he was
abusing his position of care and fucking his student that might weigh him down.

I towelled myself
off and admired his fluffy towels. I’d had mine for years and they were
bordering on hard, now. I’d have to invest in some new ones.

Slipping back into
my dress, I felt the nerves in the pit of my stomach. Sex was one thing, it was
all about the chemistry and instinctual movements and it didn’t involve any
conversation. Having dinner was something completely different.

I padded down the
stairs to the tempting smell of lasagne. It definitely smelt like Mr. Lane was
a good cook.

“Hey,” he greeted
me and I noted the glass of wine on the table. “I hope lasagne is good.”

“Really good.” I
sat down and sipped on the wine hungrily. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he
leant against the counter and we lapsed into an almost awkward silence.
Sleeping with Mr. Lane was easy; it was hot and desirous. He was a man and I
was a woman and we were working off our base instincts.

Right now, I was
having dinner with my teacher and that was weird. “How long have you lived
here? It seems really new.” Mr. Lane had been my teacher for two months, I had
no idea how long he’d been living in the city. I had no idea when he’d moved
from Ireland – his accent was very prominent.

“About a year now.
I was working temp jobs on and off until I got this thing. It’s still
technically temporary, but for a year now instead of a few weeks.”

“Ah, cool. You’ve
always been a teacher?”

“Since I graduated.”

I made a noise of
acknowledgement and took another gulp of wine. I wasn’t really sure what to say
to him. Talking about school felt odd, I didn’t want to obsess over the fact we
were doing something completely stupid.

Mr. Lane seemed
charismatic enough, I’d leave the talking to him. “So what would you normally
be doing tonight, if you weren’t here?”

There was no point
mentioning I might have been seeing Luke. “There’s been a badminton tournament
on recently I’ve been watching. Probably catching up on that. It’s American
time, so I have to watch the videos after. Watching it live would mess with my
sleeping schedule too much.” I was rambling and promptly tried to shut my
mouth.

“You play for the
school team?”

“Yeah, we’re
actually playing in the county tournament in a few weeks. I’ve been picked for
some reason.”

“I’m sure you’re
great, you wouldn’t have been picked otherwise, or have gotten to the county
tournament in the first place.”

I supposed there
was some logic there, but I hadn’t really been instrumental in our local
tournament win. I’d been the sub and I’d only played one out of the six matches.
“I guess so.”

“I was never
really into sports. I mean, I work out and stuff now,” he smirked as I checked
him out. I’d never get bored of that view and Mr. Lane had been kind enough to
keep his shirt off. “But actual sports weren’t my thing.”

“What was your
thing?”

“Binge watching
television series, mainly. Unfortunately in the days before Netflix that was
slightly more difficult. I stayed away from most of the extra-curricular stuff
and stuck to the drinking.”

I chuckled. Aside
from badminton, I was mainly the same, and that was only because I’d done it
before I was allowed to drink. “I definitely feel that. Are you from Northern
or Southern Ireland? Sorry, I know there is a difference in the accent, but I’m
a bit ignorant.” I definitely didn’t want to offend him, considering all the
conflict.

“Southern,” he
chuckled and that relaxed me a bit. “I moved to England for uni though, I made
a conscious effort to try and keep the accent.”

I grinned. “I’m
glad. I like it.”

He fired me back a
winning smile and I was completely surprised there hadn’t been a fuss made
about him at school. He was beautiful, and there wasn’t really a wrinkle on his
face. Maybe I just didn’t mix in the right circles to have heard it.

Our conversation
was paused as Mr. Lane took the lasagne out of the oven and dished it up. He
topped up my wine, too, and I realised I’d drank more than I thought. It hadn’t
hit me yet because I was sitting down. There was just a pleasant fuzziness at
the edge of my thoughts.

“I hope it’s all
right, I do normally cook my own food. I don’t think I’m abysmal.”

I stuck my fork in
and blew on a piece, so I could offer a meaningful comment after having tried
it. “Really good,” I assured him with a grin, trying to hide the fact I’d just
burnt the top of my mouth. I was a sucker for doing that, normally with pizza.

“I’m glad.”

We both munched on
our food and I couldn’t stop my eyebrows knitting together slightly. I watched
Mr. Lane and his serene look. It was almost surreal. “What’s your first name?”

“Oscar.”

“I won’t say it
now, just in case I happen to slip up in class or something.”

Oscar chuckled.
“You don’t speak much in class, anyway.”

I shrugged. “I
don’t speak much in general. I’d rather keep to myself unless I know someone
well enough to feel comfortable.”

“And how
comfortable are you feeling right now?”

My cheeks flamed.
“I can safely say I’m tempted to come up with an excuse to leave early.”

Mr. Lane grinned.
“Sorry about that. Even I’m feeling slightly weird. You’re burying the urge,
though? That’s good enough for me.”

“I feel like I
should be able to manage a conversation okay considering we were in bed less
than half an hour ago.”

“That’s true,
too.” I wondered if he was considering broaching something a bit more
uncomfortable, but he didn’t. There was literally no point in asking about my
boyfriend, or whether I regretted sleeping with him in the first place. Maybe
he wasn’t even thinking about those things.

“How old are you?”
Might as well get all the weird questions out of the way. And I was absurdly
curious, anyway.

“Twenty-eight.” He
watched my reaction closely.

“Oh, cool. I’m
normally pretty bad at judging ages, but I was about right this time. I guessed
around thirty.”

“As long as you
didn’t guess something much higher I’m happy. You could have guessed twenty to
make me feel better.”

I grinned, making
a conscious effort to slow down on my wine intake. Mr. Lane did the same. “Do
you live close by? I can stop drinking if you want a lift.”

I shook my head
instantly. “Less than ten minutes, you’re fine. I might borrow a sweater
though, if you don’t mind, I misjudged how cold this dress was.”

“Sure, I’ll
definitely have one.” He leant back in his chair, food devoured, whilst half of
my plate was still left. I felt slightly uncomfortable with him watching me
eat, but the wine was definitely helping my nerves at this point. “Ask me a
question.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Hmm,” I pondered
this with a full mouth. It had to be something normal, but also something I
really wanted to know. “How come you came to the UK?”

“I moved with my
girlfriend at the time. She got a scholarship here. Of course we broke up two
weeks after actually starting our degrees,” Mr. Lane rolled his eyes. “I’m glad
I did it, though. I never got the urge to move back and I can afford to go home
and see my family on weekends and stuff now, so I don’t really get homesick
anymore.”

“That’s cool, it
would have sucked really bad if you hated it here.”

“Yeah, definitely.
Okay, my turn.” He watched me with a devilish smirk. There was going to be
something horrible coming out of his mouth. “How many people have you slept
with?”

I gave him a
hopeless look. Was there really any need for that? “Two.”

Which obviously
meant I’d only slept with my boyfriend and him. He nodded once and almost
looked like he didn’t know how to respond. That was one way to reinforce the
age gap. He’d probably slept with loads of women.

Now I had to think
of something equally as mean. Asking him about his family wouldn’t be a good
follow up. I tapped my chin. “Have you ever fucked a student before?”

Mr. Lane raised an
eyebrow. “Nope.”

I narrowed my
eyes. He was surely lying to me. Maybe he normally fancied students who didn’t
fail or something. “Oh, okay.”

“You think this is
a regular occurrence for me?”

I shrugged, trying
to ignore the smile that threatened to take over my face. I was the only one?
“Well, I don’t know, I mean, maybe? Not regular, I guess, I just didn’t think
I’d be the first.” Acting pathetic wasn’t the way to charm a man, I definitely
knew
that
. Keeping my insecurities to myself was the way to go.

Oscar smirked at
me. “I don’t just risk my job for anyone.”

And I had to grin
at that, shaking my head. “See, you’re far too smooth.”

Oscar chuckled.
“Seriously, though. I’ve not done this before. It took a lot of debating even
asking you if you wanted to.”

Well, ‘asking me
if I wanted to’ was pushing it a bit, but I was happy not to push that line of
conversation. We both knew what he meant. We both knew that I’d wanted him far
before he’d suggested that we have sex. The word count was just an excuse.

“Well, I do feel
awfully special.” It was a joke, but it was also true. I hated the way that, by
beginning to get to know him, I was able to see that he was a really cool guy.

Maybe my romantic
daydreams would be making a comeback.

And after that,
the questions got better. I learnt all about Oscar’s family – he had two
brothers that he really missed, but his parents hadn’t spoken to him much since
his move to England. It had damaged their relationship. He’d once played the
lead role in a school play and fallen off the stage and on top of the head
teacher.

I was forced to
tell him all about the one time I’d fallen asleep in class and sworn at a
teacher in my half drowsy state. How I was an only child, but I had a good
relationship with my parents.

Luke was never
mentioned and I definitely never brought him up.

So all in all I’d
had a fantastic evening.