CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Evie
The date with Chip wasn’t as terrible as I’d expected. I hadn’t bothered to change, just gone in my bodysuit and pleated skirt get-up, too lazy to freshen up. But it’d been the wrong move because Chip’s eyes lit up as soon as I stepped into the burger joint.
“Hey hey hey, you look nice,” he said, a real smile on his face, his eyes complimentary.
And I had to smile back. I’d expected something crass and crude like “Yo yo yo, lookin’ fine lookin’ sassy,” but evidently Chip was better than that. And to my surprise, he paid for my meal as well, whipping out his wallet while we were at the counter.
“No worries, I can treat my best girl to a burger and fries,” he said, glancing at my tray appreciatively. “I like a girl who eats.”
And I just smiled weakly. That was one thing Chip had in common with Stone. They liked bigger girls and I certainly fit that category. In fact, my skirt was feeling a little tight, so I was careful to drink only half of my milkshake, saving the rest for later. Didn’t want to bust out of my clothes unnecessarily, this wasn’t the man I wanted to impress.
So I chatted idly, smiling now and then, not paying much attention and just letting myself go on auto-pilot. If this date had happened even two weeks ago, it would have been a different story. I would have curled my hair, put on a special outfit and probably hung off Chip’s every word, listening breathlessly, gazing into his eyes with adoration. But instead, I was only half present. I was in the booth sure, but my mind was elsewhere, dreaming about Stone Phillips, warming inside whenever I thought of the big man’s eyes, hands and cock. It was bad. I was on a “date” with another male, and yet I was dreaming of Stone’s massive prick, eager to feel it inside again, playing with him, letting him play with me.
So when we finished our food, I shot Chip a bright smile, crumpling my paper wrapper.
“Thanks so much!” I chirped. “The burgers were great, weren’t they?”
They were actually nothing compared to Stone’s home-cooking but Chip had no idea. He just shot me an admiring glance.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen a girl eat an entire SuperDuper Special,” he complimented. “Usually when I take girls out, they get the salad or some vegetarian option,” he snorted, nose scrunching. “That shit is disgusting, wilted leaves and alfalfa sprouts. Not that I take many girls here,” he amended quickly, shooting me a worried glance. “My mom gets the salad sometimes too,” he corrected, stumbling over his words.
And I almost laughed aloud because the hottest guy in school was tongue-tied over me, Evie Jones, the curvy girl. But I was understanding.
“No worries, sometimes I get the salad too,” I said nicely. That was a lie. I never get salad, I hate eating like a rabbit and have never forced myself to diet. But Chip looked relieved, glad he hadn’t mistakenly insulted me.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, nodding quickly. “Even I’ve gotten the salad sometimes, but not often because I need to build muscle,” he said, hoisting an arm up in a bodybuilder pose. “See? I’ve got the guns,” he said proudly.
Honestly, it was kind of gross. His biceps were so huge that his shirt sleeves were almost bursting, the thin cotton no match for the bulging muscles and veins. Some girls would have died for that, but to me he just looked like a jungle animal.
“Yeah,” I said faintly. “Nice, must have worked hard for those.”
The jock nodded sagely.
“But I’m smart too,” he said quickly. “I’m going to State next year on an athletic scholarship, but I met all the minimum academic requirements no problem,” he boasted.
And I sighed. The minimum academic requirements were probably a 1.0 or something else ridiculously low. So it was nothing to brag about but I made myself smile again.
“That sounds wonderful Chip,” I praised. “So glad you didn’t have trouble clearing the GPA hurdle.”
And he puffed up again with pride.
“So where are you headed next year?” he asked.
The truth was I didn’t know. Now that I was involved with Mr. Phillips, everything was different. I wasn’t sure what was next for me, I wanted to be where he was, stay in the vicinity if he was still going to teach at Spencer Prep. I needed to talk things over with him, work things out, figure out our next steps. But no need for Chip to know any of this, so I just hemmed and hawed, feeding him a white lie.
“Oh me too,” I said with some enthusiasm. “My entire family went to State so maybe I’ll head there next year as well.”
It was the wrong thing to say because Chip took my hand, our greasy fingers suddenly entwined.
“Well, I hope we’ll see more of each other then,” he said seriously, his voice low and meaningful. “I’ve had a good time tonight and I hope you did too.”
I colored a little but not from excitement. It was because this was like taking a train to Orlando when you were supposed to be headed to Miami. It was off, but not so off that you were doomed.
So I forced myself to smile, reminding myself this this whole thing was a disguise for my liaison with Mr. Phillips.
“Yeah,” I chirped with what I hoped was whole-hearted enthusiasm. “It’s been fun.”
And Chip just smiled then, his face breaking out into a big grin.
“Oh great,” he breathed, exhaling on a big sigh, the smell of greasy French fries hitting my face. “Great, great.”
And with that, we walked out of the joint, the envious stares of my female classmates trailing my form. Chip drove me home, giving me a quick peck on the lips when I hopped out.
“Evie,” he said seriously, making pointed eye contact. “I had a great time,” he repeated.
And this time, I smiled on auto-pilot.
“Me too!” I chirped. “See ya tomorrow!” I said, hopping out, slinging my purse over my shoulder and practically skipping the steps up to my building. “Bye!” I waved over my shoulder.
And as his car zoomed off, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was finally over. My fake date was finally over and I could relax, let myself dream. It wasn’t that Chip was so bad, he just wasn’t the one I wanted. My alpha male was handsome, sophisticated, an awesome cook and even better in bed. Stone, my mind sang. Stone, my body hummed. I couldn’t wait to see him again and stepped into the elevator, dreaming of the big man.
But he wasn’t in class the next day. Or the day after that. There was no reason really, just that Mr. Phillips had been placed on “administrative leave.” WTF? What was that? People asked questions, our mouths agape, puzzled, confused.
“But why? For what?” pressed Mindy when a vice-principal came in to explain the absence to us. “Did he do something bad?” she said while shooting a meaningful look my way. I nodded at my friend gratefully. There was no way I had the courage to ask the question myself, holding my breath, almost unable to breathe.
But Ms. Henley dodged.
“Mr. Phillips had some disagreements with the administration,” she said firmly. “He’s been put on leave until the issues are resolved.”
That was a non-answer if I’d ever heard one, but no amount of prodding or poking could get anything more.
“Why?” whined Caroline Berman. “He was going to help me study!”
Mindy and I exchanged a shocked glance. Was Stone helping a bunch of female students with their classwork? Caroline was a plump blonde with generous curves, fat lips and a dull smile. What the hell?
And Ms. Henley shot Caroline a sharp look.
“Again, Stone Phillips has been placed on administrative leave and that’s all I can say at this time,” she said smoothly. “Now if you’ll let me introduce your substitute, Luther Wizener taught biology for thirty years in a neighboring school district before retiring last year.”
And the new sub stepped forward, a wizened old man who looked about ready to keel over.
“Thank you, Ms. Henley,” he wheezed, pausing with a hand on a desk to catch his breath. “Let’s start at meiosis. That’s where Mr. Phillips left off, is that right? Cell reproduction, my favorite.”
And I was frozen for the rest of the period, unable to focus, take notes, even pretend I was paying attention.
When Chip tried to talk to me after class, I just shot him a half-hearted smile before fleeing, promising to call him later. But instead, I walked the few blocks to Mr. Phillips’s apartment building.
“Hi,” I said to the doorman. “Evie Jones for Stone Phillips,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster.
And the old man shot me an inscrutable look, stiff in his red and blue uniform.
“Mr. Phillips isn’t available,” he said politely, turning back to his newspaper.
“But you didn’t even call upstairs!” I gasped. “How do you know he’s not available?”
The doorman just shot me another impenetrable look.
“This is the end of my shift,” he said coldly. “I’d know if Mr. Phillips was home.”
I gasped. It was four in the afternoon, where could my lover be? But try as I might, I couldn’t wring any answers out of the doorman.
“Please,” I begged, close to tears. “Just tell him that Evie dropped by, okay?”
And the old guy finally relented a little, nodding reluctantly.
“Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll give him the message.”
And I trudged to the front door, letting myself out onto the sidewalk, Manhattan suddenly grey and featureless. Where was Stone? He’d been missing for days now, suddenly unavailable, and I was unable to reach him in the only ways I knew how. I was almost resolved to camping out in front of his building except that it seemed too pathetic. Besides the doorman already hated me and was staring at me menacingly through the glass-paned windows. So I took a deep breath and forced myself to start walking, placing one foot in front of another, sightless, numb. Where was my lover? We’d had an incredible time together, our minds connecting, our bodies attuned to one another like two halves of a whole. But where was he now? Why was he inaccessible? My heart filled with dread and I shivered uncontrollably although it wasn’t cold out. I just wanted to know where my man was … and if we could be together going forward.