That was a very bad idea.

I can see it the moment the words leave my mouth. For half a second, Jake looks utterly destroyed, and then his face smooths over into this unnerving nothingness. No emotion, no readable expression. It's not blank, it's just… numb.

My first instinct is to apologize and take it back, but I'm not sure I can do that with any sense of honesty. It is a good thing that he was only suspended, even if it feels like a harsher blow to Jake. I have no idea what rules teachers are required to follow and what the standard punishment is for breaking them, but I can guess Jake's straddled the line for a lot of his career. It's made him an amazing teacher, but if he didn't have a boss who understood that, he'd probably be out on his ass over this.

I can't say that, though. Even at my most socially inept, I would've known that much. Jake will come around to it on his own. I just have to listen and be supportive while he's processing things.

"There's nothing either of us can do about it now," I say, trying to keep my voice from sounding condescending. It's a line I've had to learn to walk with Riley, too. "Take some time, and once you're ready, we can turn it into something useful. The fundraiser's still chugging along. We'll hit $15k soon. We should start getting plans in motion to utilize that money. Backers are going to expect us to be accountable for every cent, and that's a full-time job in and of itself."

I have no idea if this is the right response, but it's helped me in the past. It doesn't seem to redirect Jake's energy, though his brows furrow, breaking that stony visage.

"I know you're trying to help, but it's not just about me. I can't just get over this and use all my 'time off' for another project."

Ouch. All right, that was the wrong choice, too. Third time's a charm?

"Things are going to get worse for Julie. Her parents are going to take all of this out on her and try their damnedest to get her back on 'the righteous path.'" Desperation seeps into his voice and his eyes are wild as he continues. "You don't know her like I do, David. You don't know how low her mood can dip, how close she was to…"

He doesn't finish that sentence, but he doesn’t have to. I close my eyes, as if doing so will keep the words at bay. Back in Chicago, the couple who lived next door became friends of Sid and I. Their son was a few years older than Riley, but the two of them played together for a while, until he grew out of it.

He was a quiet kid, but nothing ever seemed wrong with him. His parents said he was well-liked. He pulled easy Bs in school. He was even on the track team for a while.

But he took his life over the summer of his junior year, and I've been terrified of Riley reaching that place ever since. The idea of Julie harboring those same thoughts bothers me just as much, and it takes me a few moments to pull back from the panic I can feel myself approaching.

"She'll be eighteen in a few months, right? That's what Riley said…"

I can't help but cling to that fact, even though I know turning eighteen isn’t some magical lottery ticket to a new life. You may have more rights, but they don't mean anything if you don't have the resources to make use of them.

"She'll still have school for three more months after that. She doesn't have a job, so she can't afford an apartment or food when they kick her out."

I know all these things. They're running through my mind, flying past on a frantic conveyor belt. Like a frazzled factory worker, I pluck the first thought I can grab from the line.

"She can live here."

Now the blankness in Jake's expression is shock. It's better than numbness, but it also gives me time to realize what I've said; what I've just volunteered.

It's not that crazy of an idea though, is it?

"I have a guest bedroom. I was going to turn it into an actual office, but it can just as easily be made into a bedroom. I can take the girls to school and pick them up. I'll scale back on the budget so we can afford food and clothes and everything else she needs. I've still got some money in savings, and if she wants to work a part-time job to start saving some cash of her own, she can. But she'll be welcome here for as long as she needs to stay," I amend, not wanting it to sound like I'm expecting her to pack her bags and fend for herself right after graduation.

Again, there's no special alchemy that happens once you're handed your diploma. More doors open, but life definitely doesn't get any easier.

The whole time I'm talking—babbling, let's be honest—Jake's just staring at me. His mouth isn't agape, but his lips are parted and his gaze is just riveted to me.

His mouth moves, but it takes a second attempt before he can form a single word. "Why?" After a pause, he continues. "You barely know Julie. Why would you go through all of this trouble for her when you've got your own kid to raise?"

"Probably the same reason you risked your career to try and reason with parents you knew couldn't be reasoned with," I say mildly. "It was the right thing to do."

The stupid thing to do. Maybe this is, too. I'm going to have an aneurysm trying not to think about everything the two of them could be getting up to when they're spending so much time under the same roof.

But it's still the right thing to do.

Jake crosses the space between us in two even strides. His hands come up to frame my face and he just looks at me for a moment like he's never seen anything better.

"You are… amazing."

I can feel heat rise in my cheeks, but before I can even scoff, his mouth covers mine. My own hands slide over his arms, coming to rest at his wrists as I return the kiss.

It's slow and meaningful, so many different emotions transferred back and forth between us, shared as easily as we're sharing breath right now. When we're forced to break apart for air, I gather it quickly, greedily, and use that moment to speak.

"If I'm amazing, it's only because I'm trying to keep up with you."

My hands slide over his shoulders, my fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. It's getting long enough now that it curls inward a little. He'll probably get it trimmed soon, but for now it's perfect.

We kiss until we're breathless. I can feel myself getting lost in it, time and place slipping away as my hands slide under his shirt and I touch bare skin. We only just manage to get our shirts off as we maneuver into the living room and fall onto the couch in a heap of tangled limbs and desire.

He climbs on top of me, the feeling of his body moving against mine lighting up pleasure centers my brain hasn't ever tapped into before. It's not just when our cocks rub together through our pants—though that shoots off fireworks in my brain—it's also when his skin touches mine, when his arms brace around me, when his knees hug tight to my hips. Every instance of contact puts me deeper and deeper into this state of longing.

Jake gets rid of his shoes and we somehow manage to get out of our pants and underwear. I can't manage to feel self-conscious about my body when he's touching me the way he is, like every inch of me is precious, or when his mouth is moving over places I never would've guessed would make me react, like the inside of my wrist or just below my ribs.

When he gets his mouth around my cock, his every movement is slow and confident. He's learned what makes me squirm, what makes me suck in my breath, and what makes me buck against him like I've got no control over my body.

But I do have some control. I don't just lie there and take it. I push him up and use what I've learned on him, the taste of his precum exploding in a burst of flavor on the back of my tongue. I'm nowhere near as precise as Jake, but I hold my own. The way his thighs clench and his hands tighten in my hair tells me that much.

His moans stir something in my gut, though. Some burning need that can't be filled by this alone. Pushing myself up, I voice it breathlessly.

"I want you… I want…"

Christ, I'm bad at dirty talk. Or even just clearly communicating what I need, apparently. But Jake seems to get it.

"Condoms?" he asks, just as breathless as me.

"In my bedroom."

We manage to get there in the longest amount of time anyone's ever taken to climb a set of stairs. Hands wander, followed by mouths, and in the space of a moment we're pressed against a wall, trying to contend with the elevation of the stairs.

When we finally get to my bedroom, I pull out the box of condoms, rip one off, and hand it to Jake in a silent plea. I grab the lube and watch as he rolls the condom on, transfixed for a moment and forgetting that I'm supposed to be getting ready.

Climbing onto the bed, I coat two fingers in lube and use them on my hole, sliding the bottle back to Jake. I hear the cap click and look over my shoulder to see him palming his cock, the liquid gleaming on his flesh.

He climbs onto the bed behind me, one hand wrapped around his cock as the other rests on my shoulder. He leans down, whispers to me, "Relax."

I didn't even realize I was holding my breath. I let it out and let my tightened muscles ease, leaning on my forearms for support. Jake teases me, the head of his cock sliding over my hole but continuing on. When he finally has me squirming, he gets himself in position and slowly pushes inside of me.

I cry out as that feeling of fullness takes over every sensation. When he moves within me, that sound turns into a low moan. And when he gains rhythm, I'm practically panting, giving up on holding myself up, my arms put to better use reaching behind me, my fingers gripping his thighs, trying to pull him closer with every thrust.

I try something, controlling my muscles to squeeze around him. Jake lets out a surprised cry of his own, and then I feel his cock jerk and spasm inside of me, his rough growl of a moan close to my ear.

He doesn't take much time to recover, pulling out and getting rid of the condom before he flips me over and takes my cock in his mouth, all the way to the root. With some vigorous sucking, I come hard, pressing back into the bed even as my hips lift upward.

He stays there, kissing and nuzzling my thighs as I slowly come down. My chest rises and falls at a rapid pace, and when he moves beside me on the bed, I can't even manage any thoughts, let alone any words.

Jake just grins, kisses me, and that's the last thing I remember before I pass out.

* * *

Later that afternoon, I'm awoken by a distant alarm. My phone. It's docked on the bedside table, but it sounds a million miles away. I groan, reach for it, and look at the time.

Shit.

"I need to pick Riley up in half an hour."

"I'll go with you," Jake says sleepily.

We take the world's fastest couples shower, somehow managing to keep from getting distracted—mostly. It's about five ‘til when we finally shuffle into the car and head over to the school to wait in line.

We talk over the soft music playing from the radio, and I occasionally glance up, looking for Riley as we wait in the car rider's lane.

But more and more time passes without any sign of her, and I start to feel the faintest itch of worry creeping in.

"She might've been kept a little late for something," Jake says, giving me a reassuring smile.

More time passes. So much time that even the teacher watching the kids goes back inside.

And when Riley still doesn't show, that worry turns into full-blown panic.