Chapter Ten
Emily
Saturday morning, I woke up entirely too early, so I laid in bed enjoying Howard’s soft, fuzzy warmth under the flannel sheets and letting my thoughts wander back to Blake Gaston. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since he’d left my classroom, and the thoughts grew progressively racier this morning. As I let them flow, I felt the warmth spreading as I slowly caressed my body with one hand. I closed my eyes and imagined Blake’s face above mine as I slid my hand between my legs and softly stroked my already-damp panties.
Just as I was about to move my hand lower, I felt a furry paw batting my eyes and ears.
“Knock it off, Howard,” I growled, as I tried to shift my focus back to Blake. The paw tapped my lips as Howard mewed loudly. I opened one eye and said, “I’m not kidding, buddy. Knock it off!”
Howard turned in a circle and then leaned his considerably large backside up against the side of my head as he began to methodically clean himself. I reached over and shoved him off my head, but he dug in and resisted, leaving me no choice but to sit up and pick him up. By the time I’d relocated him to the other side of the bed, I’d lost the train of thought that I’d been working on.
“You are a royal pain in the ass, mister,” I muttered, as I pulled a robe on over my pajamas and slid my feet into a battered pair of slippers. Howard lay on the bed looking up at me, blinking as if I’d disturbed his sleep. I waved a hand as I muttered a few choice curse words at him and walked to the kitchen.
The house was freezing cold, but while I hated waking up in a frigid house, I also knew better than to leave the space heaters running while I was asleep. I flipped the switch on the heater in the kitchen and then went and flipped the one in the living room on, too. I started the coffee and then turned my attention to breakfast.
Once the house had begun to warm up a bit, Howard strolled into the kitchen and hopped up on his stool.
“Nice of you to join me, Mr. Lazy Pants,” I said, as I grabbed his bowl off the floor and filled it with his breakfast. I set the bowl down on the floor and watched as he eyed it and then shot me an irritated look before finally hopping down and walking over to it. I reminded him, “Beggars really can’t be choosers, you know.”
As the coffee brewed, I set about making a full Saturday morning breakfast while I listened to the news. The Boston Celtics were playing a game tonight, and I was looking forward to kicking back on my couch and watching them increase their winning streak by one more game. Despite the fact that I always had work to do to prep or grade, I allowed myself complete freedom from work on Saturdays, and today was no exception.
I’d just flipped the last of the pancakes and pulled the crisp pan of bacon out of the broiler when Kendra knocked on the back door. I opened it and was surprised to find her standing on the back porch holding a bag full of groceries.
“What are you doing here so early?” I asked, taking the bag from her and peeking inside. It was full of fruit, vegetables, a carton of milk, and a variety of pastries. “What’s this for?”
“I’m working all weekend and then leave on Monday morning bright and early,” she said. “Thought you might be able to do something with these.”
“Indeed I can!” I said, as she walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee then rooted around in the bag and pulled out the milk. “Good thing you brought that; I used the last of mine on the pancakes. Want some breakfast?”
“Yeah, sure, I could eat something,” she said, as she ran a hand through her curly dark hair and shrugged off her coat and tossed it into the living room. “You want some help?”
“Yeah, grab some forks and napkins; we’ll eat in front of the television,” I said, as I put the food on plates and grabbed a bottle of syrup out of the cupboard.
We sat down on the couch and I flipped on ESPN as Kendra doused her pancakes in syrup. We ate in silence as the commentators ran through the results of all the sports events the night before, and cheered silently as they, again, announced that the Celtics were leading the NBA and looked like they might win the championship this year.
“How are the kids?” Kendra asked, as she leaned ran her finger around the edge of the plate and then offered her finger to Howard, who had jumped up between us and was now acting like we didn’t exist. He sniffed Kendra’s finger, blinked once, and then turned and walked away. KO laughed. “Wow, picky little bastard, isn’t he?”
“He’s his own person,” I said, as Howard curled up at the far end of the couch and licked his paw before putting his head down and closing his eyes. “The kids are good. I met with one of my students’ fathers this week.”
“Oh yeah? Helicopter parent come to read you the riot act about his precious angel?” she asked dryly.
“No, actually he was a divorced dad who came to find out why his daughter is failing history,” I said, wondering if I wanted to tell KO just how hot Blake Gaston was.
“Was he hot?” she asked, cutting through my question.
“Unbelievably,” I said, grinning as I fanned myself.
“Why didn’t you ask him out?”
“KO! Are you kidding? That would violate about ten of the clauses in my teaching contact!” I protested.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she shot back. “That’s utter bullshit. I mean, I can see you not dating students, but their parents? Bullshit.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s a specific rule against dating a parent,” I admitted. “But it would feel weird to date a student’s dad, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, Em,” KO said, as she leaned back and laced her fingers behind her head. “We live in Waltham; it’s a small freakin’ town, and there are a limited number of eligible men around here. My theory is that if you like him and he likes you, you should go for it!”
“I have no idea if he likes me,” I admitted. “I just can’t stop thinking about him, but there’s no way I’m going to just call him up and ask him out.”
“What’s he do?”
“Firefighter,” I said.
“Oooh! That means he probably comes into the Clover!” KO said perking up. “You should come in and watch the game tonight! Maybe you’ll run into him! No harm, no foul if you meet him out on the town, my friend.”
“You’re so bad,” I laughed.
“We’re going to have the Celtics game on the big screen,” she teased. “And the drinks are two-for-one until 9!”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll come sit on a stool at the bar and watch the basketball game while you work,” I laughed. “How pathetic is that?”
“It’s only pathetic if you stay home and watch the game with your cat,” KO said. Howard opened one amber eye and looked at her disdainfully before rolling over and going back to sleep.
That evening, I put on jeans and my Celtics jersey in anticipation of the game.
“Sorry, buddy,” I said, as I flipped off the space heaters. From his spot curled up on the couch, Howard lifted his head, blinked once, and then curled back up and ignored me. “Can’t leave these things on if I’m not around. Stay curled up. I’ll turn them back on when I get home, okay?”
I pulled up in front of The Lucky Clover and immediately found a front parking spot.
“Great, this is pathetic,” I muttered under my breath, as I made my way across the room and sat down at the far end of the bar closest to the television screen and the back door. KO smiled and poured me a beer without saying a word as I sat waiting for the game to start.
“Hey, darlin’,” a voice from behind me said halfway through the first quarter. “You waiting on your husband?”
“Huh? What the—” I said, shifting my attention from the game to the guy now standing next to me.
“You alone, darlin?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, scanning the bar for KO. She was at the other end pouring drinks for a group of guys who looked like they’d already had one too many.
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing alone in a bar like this?” he said, before chuckling to himself.
“Um, watching the Celtics kick the crap out of the Pistons,” I said in a flat tone that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but utter annoyance at the interruption.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, ignoring the frosty chill radiating off of me.
“No thanks; I’m good,” I said, shifting my attention back to the screen but keeping him in my peripheral view.
“So, you from around here?” he continued.
“Look, I know you’re just a guy in a bar trying to make a connection with someone,” I said, turning to look at him. “But I’m not that someone. I’m here to watch the game, and I really don’t feel like being social. Not with you or anyone else, so I’m going to recommend that you pack up what you’re selling and move it a little further down the bar.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to get hostile, babe,” he said, throwing his hands up in surrender.
“I’m not hostile; I’m just trying to watch the game!” I repeated, as I turned and looked up at the screen. “And you’re making me miss all the scoring! Now move on, buddy!”
He picked up his drink, and as he moved several seats down the bar, I heard him repeating his opening line to a pretty brunette sitting alone nursing a drink. I muttered good riddance and then quickly felt my spirits lift as I watched Thomas sink a three-pointer from the side and take the Celtics lead into the double digits.
“Hell yeah!” I shouted, as I pounded the bar.
“Man, you turned that guy down cold,” KO grinned, as she nodded at the guy several seats down now intensely involved in a conversation with the brunette.
“Didn’t seem to stop him from moving on,” I shrugged.
“Girl, you’re a piece of work,” KO said, pouring me another beer and sliding it across the polished wood surface.
I watched the Celtics cream the Pistons in peace as I drank a couple more beers, and by the time the game was over, I was in good spirits. KO and I talked for a bit as the late night patrons began to filter in, and as business picked up, I waved goodbye and headed home for the night wondering what Blake Gaston was doing.