Chapter Six

Ada

Monday, all day at school people come up to tell me how great I did and how much they loved my performance. People seemed surprised at how well I could sing. I shouldn’t be upset because I never sang in front of them before, but I was the music teacher. It shouldn’t have been that shocking. My job is literally to teach others about music.

I walk into the teacher’s lounge to find the English teachers sneering at me. Today just keeps getting better. Madeline Smith, who I consider the mean teacher leader, walks forward and smiles cat-like at me. I brace myself inwardly as she approaches. Her heels click-clacking over the polished tiles. Ugh, she irritates the crap out of me.

“So, we didn’t know you were such a star.” Her words sound nothing like a compliment. Madeline tucks a bleached blonde piece of hair behind her ear. Her diamond earrings catch the light which is probably her intended purpose when she moved the hair. Her husband is a lawyer and always gives her the flashiest gifts she loves to show off.

She is one of those women who loves to tell people she works because she’s bored. It shows too because she doesn’t care in the least about the students. I wouldn’t be surprised to find her on her phone behind her desk while her students do on their own reading. What I never understood was if her life was so perfect why did she have to tear other down?

The other two English teachers flank Madeline. Penny’s husband works for the police department and Hallie’s husband works with my father at the Maxwell plant on the edge of town. And when they aren’t torturing their students they are sharpening their claws on unsuspecting people like me.

I wonder, briefly if Charlie works there with his father as well. I’d never thought to ask Dad about it. I guess I can ask him tonight. Goosebumps pop up when I start thinking about meeting Charlie tonight. I have to pull my thoughts away from Charlie to focus on what the hateful three are saying to me.

“We would have never known you could sing like that if you wouldn’t have done the charity concert last night. You are always such a wallflower most of the time we forget you even work here. But now we know you’re a star.” Madeline flips her hair again and the others nod their heads next to her. I know she’s being nasty, but her passive-aggressive little word punches are just sad coming from an adult.

“I don’t think I’m quite a star Madeline,” I say. “Those are lovely earrings.” I hope giving her a compliment will get her and her gang to back off some.

She beams and touches one delicately, “Thanks, Lance gave them to me just because. I’m just saying it’s amazing someone with your talent would be happy being a little ole music teacher.”

There it is, the condescending little push I was waiting for all the other stuff was just a setup. Even though she’s also a teacher at the same high school, it’s obvious she thinks she’s better. She sees English as a far more sophisticated career when compared with music, and she has a husband with money. She’s told me these things repeatedly in her underhanded way for the past four years. When I’ve been the lucky one to substitute for her class, which seems far more often than someone should be out, she always criticizes whatever I’ve done with them. And now that she knows I keep the fact that I can actually sing under wraps, she had more ammunition. Somehow, I feel like this should give me some respect, not another reason to be mean to me. These women have a backward way of thinking about things.

I give her the sweetest smile I can muster. “Well, what can I say? I am perfectly content with my little ole music room. Good talking to you,” I lie. I walk out with my head held high because no matter what that vapid little wench has to say to me, she can’t bring me down today. I have a date with Charlie Maxwell. So, suck on that English bitches.

“Miss Springfield?” One of my quieter students Jacklyn comes up to me while they’re reading a chapter in musical history. I have them do work in between singing because most of them are with me for four years and I need to feel like I’m teaching them. I want them to feel like they didn’t waste their time with me.

“Yes, Jacklyn. What is it? Do you have a question about the reading?”

“No, I just want to know what will happen if you go sing with that Charlie guy. Will you still be our teacher?” She twisted her shoe on the tile not meeting my eyes.

“I don’t know exactly. I’d like to be.” I tell her honestly. “You do know that I would rather be here teaching you as long as I can, but I owe Mr. Maxwell a chance to state his case.”

“Good, I don’t want another teacher and I’m here three more years.” She smiles and goes back to her seat. It warms my heart a bit that they care about me as much as as I do for them. Madeline and the witches can have their English classes, I’ve got the best students.

The rest of the day flies by. I finish up with my students early and have to field more questions about the possibility of me becoming famous. Some of the students are excited about the possibility of knowing someone who was on the radio, while the others like Jacklyn are scared at the possibility of change.

I do my best to calm their nerves, telling them it’s just a meeting, no one is becoming famous. Charlie hasn’t even gotten a foot in the door yet, this is all speculative. There’s no way I’m making a decision like this right away and certainly not based on how famous I might be. I was being honest when I told Charlie I never had aspirations of fame. I wave at them and make my way to my car looking back to smile and get in like I don’t have a care in the world.

A few minutes later, I’m in full panic mode at my apartment. My stomach is stuck in my throat and I can’t seem to get it back in place. What the hell was I thinking?

I flutter around my apartment in a tizzy, tossing clothes this way and that out of my closet. When did my closet swallow all my good clothes? I have nothing to wear. I can’t make a decision to save my life. "This isn't happening, should I wear sexy underwear? Do I need to wear a matching bra? Why does this matter? We are having a business dinner. What should I do?" I ask Lila as I rush around to get ready. I hear her amused chuckle as I balance the phone against my head frantically pulling out lingerie and granny panties.

"Well that depends, is this just a business meeting or are you expecting more? And if more what exactly? Are you giving it up?"

"I don't know.”

“So, you have a crush on him. He’s hot I don’t blame you. Just go and see where it takes you.”

“I don’t know why I’m overthinking this. I need to just go in and listen to him and take it from there.”

“Then what’s got your matching panties in a knot?”

“I don't want him to know I'm still a virgin.” I blurt out. “It sounds stupid but I want him to be entranced by me. I want him to feel bad for treating me the way he did, and then feel worse when I tell him I really don’t want to be in the spotlight.”

“But you’re so good, honey. You deserve to be in the spotlight. Don’t shut him down immediately. Listen to what he has to offer. Thomas has a good feeling about the two of you.” Her voice had a pleading tone to it.

“I’ll listen to him.”

“Yay!”

“But only because I love you, and you set this up.”

“And you’re not letting him see your matching panties?”

“Of course, I'm not just giving it up.” At least I don’t think I am. I think to myself. Am I? How bad could it be to have sex with Charlie Maxwell? I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t fantasized about it for years. And he knows what he is doing. A virgin could do worse.

“Well you could do worse,” Lila says in that old movie star voice she likes to throw on reading my mind.

“Stop it. I’m not the girl who throws herself at someone who didn't want me in high school. Why are we even discussing this? We are talking about music.” I say holding up a sexy red bra and panty set as I speak. Why do I care what’s underneath my clothes if I’m not going to let him see?

“That's exactly what you're doing, and it’s okay to throw yourself at him. And you can not only talk music you can make sweet sweet music too,” she says and hangs up. Lila has a flair for the dramatic so I'm not surprised. I don't have time to worry because he'll be here soon and I still have to shower and shave. There's so much to do.

In the shower, I picture being sexy and cool when he comes in. I can be the opposite of who I was in high school. I play out how the evening is going to go.

Charlie will be stunned at how sexy I look. He'll stammer out we can leave anytime. I'll say, what's your hurry, Sparky. I laugh at that ridiculous nickname as I lather up my legs. I've been in the shower too long and the hot water has abandoned me. Shaving too fast so I don’t freeze, I nick my thigh and curse the gods of hair removal.

I choose a body wash I think makes me smell great and quickly wash off. Getting out of the shower I wonder if I should have washed my hair. I told myself there was no time but there had been excessive sweat on my part from my performance and I'd just fallen into bed last night and gone through my work day with it piled up. Now I worry my imagined evening is already falling to pieces.

A glance at the clock tells me I better just spray in some dry shampoo and call it good. I put on what I imagine is the right amount of makeup for such a date, lotion everywhere, and slide into the lingerie set my nerves pushed to the back as I rush around.

I look in my mirror and let out a whistle. Not too shabby. The doorbell rings and I panic, tripping over the shoes I laid out and l land on the floor with a loud thud. I bite my tongue and smack the side of my face on the carpet, my perfect smooth new personality vanishing. The fall itself didn't hurt too badly, but I can taste the blood in my mouth and my ego is painfully bruised. I tell myself, at least I didn't fall in front of Charlie.

I’m a hot mess it feels like I’ve been transported right back to high school. Looking at the clock I realize he's at least a half hour early. “What on earth? What guy is half a friggin hour early for a date? Seriously?” I mutter around my swollen tongue.

“It's me,” I hear Lila’s voice on the other side of the door. I'm both relieved and confused as I throw on a robe and run to the door.

“Hey, what are you doing here,” my tongue is swelling and the words come out more mumbled than I want them to. And when I’m going to be discussing music with a sexy blast from my past.

“Why is your face so red?”

I sigh as I test my tongue with my finger to see how bad it is. “Because I tripped on my shadow, got my feet tangled together, bit my tongue, slammed my face on the carpet and there ya go. And it’s your fault because you made me think you were him.” I put a hand on my cheek and hope it doesn’t look too bad.

“Okay, go ice your tongue it's probably not as bad as it feels and I'll find you something to wear. I’m sorry I made you panic more than you already were.”

“Why are you here?” I ask as I obediently go into the kitchen to fetch some ice.

“You sounded terrified on the phone and I didn’t want you to ruin your chances of popping your cherry before it even started. I'm here to help you get ready and quickly.” She looks at her watch and flies off to my bedroom while I ice my tongue.

“Don’t be gross Lila,” I call behind her.

I look at it in the bathroom mirror after five minutes and realize she's right it looks a lot better. I can't kiss with a tongue the size of my head. I need to stop thinking about kissing Charlie. This is what got me in this predicament in the first place.

“Come in here.”

I go in to see two dresses lying on the bed. One of them is definitely not mine.

“I brought it from my closet in case you were out of options.”

The dress she picked that belongs to me is blue with a low-cut neckline and a wraparound style. It's cute but not a dress I ever wear. The other is her dress, of course. It's a very pretty dress but it looks more like Lila than something I would wear. It's a red shift that hangs low with a scoop neck in the front and it's short. It’s really, really short.

“I don't think I can show that much leg.” I reach toward the blue dress going for comfort.

“You’ve got amazing legs. Why not show them off? You’re the only one who doesn’t think you can handle this dress. Why not go bold?” Lila picks it up and holds it against her.

“B-because, I just can’t.”

Lila laughs. “That’s an awesome reason. What were you thinking of going with?”

I pull out my little black dress. It's simple and covers up everything while still being fitted. “This little number.” I wiggle it a bit in front of her.

“You're not going to a funeral Ada. You’re going to have a dinner with a sexy man you are thinking about giving your virginity to.”

“Well, then it would be my virginity's funeral.”

“Ada you are crazy.” She says it but she's laughing at my comment.

“I know that's why I was pairing it with these bright yellow pumps and cardigan.” I point to the shoes I tripped over earlier.

“Oh, a cardigan.” She mocks me. “How hot. It’s 2018, not 1800. You’re a modern day single woman that’s a brilliant teacher and fantastic singer. Not a spinster schoolmarm.”

I frown at the image that conjures in my head. “I have to be comfortable Lila or I’ll be miserable,” I tell her grabbing the item in question from the closet. “I think it pulls it all together. I don’t look like I’m Amish.”

“Your words, not mine. I never said Amish.”

“Come on, I like this. Be my friend.”

Okay, you can lead a horse to water and all that,” Lila holds up her hands as if she’s giving up.

I smirk at her knowing she disapproves of the outfit. “Look, I look okay right. Not trying too hard, which is also important to me for tonight.”

“What exactly is your goal here? Revenge for a jerk who never called? Living out some high school fantasy you always had? Or a business dinner?”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing if I’m being honest. Thanks for your input.” I point to my back to get her to help me zip up not feeling bad for my sarcasm at all.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt again. I didn’t realize you were still hung up on Charlie or I might not have suggested this whole thing to Thomas. It was so long ago.”

“It wasn’t that long ago,” I pout “How is that going with Thomas?” I ask. I need to change the subject because the more I think about the high school crush thing, the more anxious and nervous I get. I’m a grown ass woman. My nerves are ridiculous.

Unfortunately, Lila knows what I’m doing. “Don’t change the subject, but really well thank you for asking. He’s a nice guy. I think you and Charlie could really be huge singing together and help Thomas too. Your voice is amazing and you wouldn’t be on the stage alone. You would have Charlie to rely on. You deserve the world.”

“I’m considering it, I just have to get past tonight. Also, I wasn’t hung up on him. Just seeing him again has brought it all back.”

“Okay,” Lila looks me up and down thoughtfully. “Do you need some sex tips?”

“No! I’m mean, it’s not going to happen. And I’ve seen things. I mean I know what to do, and if I don’t I’m sure he does.” I actually feel my face turning red as my cheeks burn.

“You’re right, that fine man probably has some amazing moves. And you’re grown and you know what you’re doing,” she says as she gets up and moves to the door. “Call me after and tell me everything.”

“I will, and thank you.” I give her a big hug and send her on her way.

She stops before she gets completely out of the apartment and turns around. Her face shows she’s about to get serious. “Has Jimmy been calling?”

I swallow past the lump that has formed in my throat at the mention of him. “He did last week, but I just ignored it.”

Lila walks back towards me. Jimmy is my ex-boyfriend. He’s one of those men who doesn’t like to admit things are over. He went through spells of calling my phone repeatedly and it scared Lila who spent a lot of time watching true crime shows from her DVR. She thinks because I wouldn’t sleep with him, he’s obsessed with getting it from me now that we’re not together. I think her thought process is a little extreme.

“Addy, I think you should tell your father he’s harassing you.”

“He’s not harassing me, Lila, I promise. If I ever feel threatened I will get help. Okay?”

“Okay. Just remember not all men are like him.” She hugs me again and leaves. I can tell she’s not convinced I’m telling her the truth. I can’t think of Jimmy right now.

Taking one last look in the mirror I make my way into the living room to sit on the couch and wait the remaining five minutes for him to arrive.

The doorbell rings and I freeze in place. Great, he’s going to leave if I can’t get my nerves under control. I need to show confidence. I have some strange desire to prove myself to him. What I have to prove, I don’t know. Seeing him again has turned me back to the lovesick little high school girl I was when he asked me out. I hope that girl doesn’t come out tonight, I really don’t care for her that much.

I get up and go to the door, opening it and putting on a huge smile.

“Hi,” Charlie smiles and extends flowers towards me. They’re beautiful, pink roses are my absolute favorite. There’s no way Lila didn’t tell him that.

“Beautiful, thank you.” I take them from him and happily go into the kitchen for a vase. It will give me something to do while he takes a look around my humble abode.

“You look great Addy. I’m really sorry I didn’t recognize you yesterday. You just look different than you did in high school," he says.

I can see him looking at the pictures on the mantle as I fill a glass with water. Just pictures of my dad and I fishing and my mother and I painting before she left.

“It’s okay it’s been so many years I probably look completely different,” I say and walk over to the couch to sit while he continues to study my photos. I know I don't look different. The only thing different is my hair color and I got contacts.

“Did something happen to your face?” I ask alarmed. His eye looks black and there’s a cut on his eyebrow.

“Nothing you should worry about,” he says with a casual shrug. He tries to play it off, but I can tell he’s leaving details out and now I’m curious.

I immediately picture him picking fights in the parking lot of some skeevy bar but that’s silly, he isn’t an oversexed sixteen-year-old boy anymore. Maybe he fell down like I did earlier. I self-consciously put a hand up to my cheek hoping the redness has gone down.

He sits down closer than I thought he would. My body slides down his arm and the contact between us is almost electric. His walk across my carpet probably created static and the electric current was nothing but science.

“Are you ready to go eat, I’m pretty hungry,” he stands up from the couch. If I don’t do something now I’m going to lose my nerve. I pull him back down onto the couch and attack him. I quickly smash my face into his and by some miracle find his lips with my clumsy attempt.

He tenses, I’m hoping because I just caught him by surprise. So, I keep attacking him. My mind is having a meltdown screaming what are you doing you crazy bitch. Step away from the man, step away from the man.

This is no time for me to lose my nerve. I bring my hands to his neck and turn my head so I can open my mouth against his. He doesn’t resist so I push my tongue into his mouth. Now my body is starting to heat up and I’m finding my groove or at least I’m hoping I am. I’m good at kissing, several former boyfriends have told me that. I just never allowed anyone to take it any further. I ignore the pain from where I bit my tongue. It’s worth it.

He pulls back and I find satisfaction in the fact he’s breathing heavily.

“You know when we were in high school you called me an oversexed teenager who wasn’t going to get anywhere with you.” He runs a hand through his hair and it goes back to exactly where it was before.

I lean back. I’d left a voicemail for him saying such, but I never knew if he heard it or not. It was after I’d found out he had been out with Denise and I knew her reputation.

“Why would you bring that up right now?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed you were still conservative with your body. I don’t want you to think you need to impress me by doing all this. I want you to sing with me and I don’t want to screw this up. When it comes to being successful, I really want it not just for me, but for you too.”

“I’m much more experienced than I was in high school Charlie,” I lie. “Why would you think I wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know,” he holds his hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry, continue if you want to.” He smiles and brings his hand up to my cheek.

The kiss starts up again and now he’s gotten into my head. I can’t focus on what’s happening. Maybe I still give off a virgin vibe? Is that a thing? I need to get it together. He brings me back to reality when his hand finds my breast and he makes a sound in the back of his throat. It sounds like the sound I make when I taste a good piece of chocolate. I take this as a good sign and gasp as he pinches my nipple through my dress. I gasp as his expert hands take both my breasts and start to do magical things to them.

I remind myself a girl with experience would think this was a perfectly normal thing for a man to do. Also, it doesn’t feel bad. I move closer to him putting a hand on his leg. His breathing has sped up more and his hand is now going down the front of my dress. He moves my hand to his crotch and I feel a hard bulge. I fight every urge I have to pull my hand back and clutch my pearls, and I’m not even wearing pearls. Am I really pretending I know what the hell I’m doing?

My heart trips and stutters in my chest as his tongue presses against mine. Clouds are beginning to swirl inside my mind, making it difficult to form a rational thought. His teeth rake against my lower lip as he nibbles gently. Wow! Who knew nibbling could be so . . . hot. I sure the heck didn’t.

I move my hand over his erection and am intrigued by how it feels like it’s getting harder with my touch. I’m not sure how but he has managed to get my bra unhooked through the back of my dress. I feel it loosen while his hand once again goes down the front and cups my breast. He pushes his tongue into my mouth once more, and I bravely suck on it leaning closer to him. I can feel his body heat radiating to mine.

A dull throb is starting between my thighs and is steadily increasing. My heart rate kicks up a few more beats as his lips skim my jawline. I kiss his cut above his eye and the bruise on his cheek. I wonder what kind of fight he got into once again but I decide he can tell me later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to dinner before dessert,” he says breathlessly against my mouth. He bucks his hips up against my hand and I squeeze it gently.

All I can do is shake my head. Am I ready to take this all the way? What if this is it? We do it and never see each other again and then what am I left with?

One hell of a good time, my mind purrs.

Maybe I can just give him a blowjob, men like that, right? He gets off and I don’t have to give up my grace quite yet. Who calls it that? I’m going to have to stop warring with myself while a hot guy, have his tongue in my mouth and a hand working its way up my dress. The question is can I figure out what to do to get him to the end?

Taking a deep breath, I make my decision.