“So he has already rescued you twice and it has only been, what, one week?” Tony looks at me with a smug, knowing smile on his face.

“A little over that.” I frown at him. I'm not going to encourage that annoying smile. “Saying that he rescued me seems a bit much, don't you think? He fixed my car once, and he waited with me while the cops were on their way. That’s all. He’s just a good neighbor.”

“Yeah, it sounds like he did more than that, though. I wouldn’t fix a car or enter a house that’s just been broken into for a neighbor.”

“That’s because you can’t fix a car, Tony. And you can’t check a house for intruders either. He’s ex-Navy SEAL, so it’s, like, all in a day’s work for him. The equivalent would be you giving your neighbor’s kid a few tips to help him pass his English test,” I say as I turn on the electric kettle on the counter of the shared staff kitchen.

“Last time I checked, fixing cars wasn’t in the job description for the military.”

“I was referring to the break-in, obviously.”

“Okay. Let’s see. First, he gave you a ride on his sexy Harley Davidson. Then, he sexily checked your house to make sure there were no baddies in there. He even found your dog—in an equally sexy manner, I bet. Geez, what does a guy have to do to deserve the verb ‘rescue’ around here? Straight guys sure do have it rough.” Tony takes a loud sip of coffee from his Best Dad Ever mug.

“Does Greg have the same mug? Because I honestly think you're just an okay dad. He's the one stuck at home with the kids most days.”

“Nobody asked you for a Yelp review on my parenting, Jessie. Sticks and stones may break my bones, and all that.” Tony shrugs. “Don't change the subject. We're still talking about your dreamy neighbor-slash-ex-lover.”

I exaggerate the shudder running down my spine to show Tony the effect of his cringey choice of words on me. I look around the break room to check that it's still just the two of us here before I roll my eyes. “He's hardly a ‘lover.’ Ugh, please never use that word again. We slept together once.”

“I see. I notice you have no objections to the use of the adjective ‘dreamy.’” Tony puts his mug down on the counter as a victorious smile spreads across his face.

I shrug and lean against the counter to put a teabag in a mug. I need to occupy my hands so I don't fidget. I don't know if it's the break-in or just talking about Jacob that's making me anxious, but I don't want Tony to notice and get worried.

“I’m not going to deny he’s hot. I wouldn’t have slept with him otherwise,” I say.

“Oh, Jessie, Jessie. You think you’re so clever, trying to trick me. But I see right through you. You, young lady, are transparent.” Tony points an accusing finger at me. “You’re hardly the one-night-stand type. I bet you really liked him. Maybe you still do.”

“Eh. You didn’t know me back then. Maybe I used to be the type. Maybe I’m just reformed now.”

“Jessie likes a bo-oy,” Tony taunts in a sing-songy voice.

“I was a stripper,” I say in a low voice. “Maybe I used to have emotionless sex all the time. You don’t know.”

Tony is the only person in the entire school who knows about my past. He knows I used to strip for a living and he knows why I moved here.

We’re the only teachers in Ashbourne High School who are in our twenties, so we quickly bonded over our shared love of Taylor Swift. He’s now my “contact person in case of emergency” on all my legal forms.

One day, he opened up to me about growing up gay in a small town and told me how he felt like he had to hide who he really is for the longest time.

I said I knew how he must’ve felt. Then I told him how I’m hiding the fact that I used to be a stripper from everyone in town. That opened the floodgates and soon he knew all my deepest, darkest secrets.

“So why not do it again now?” Tony challenges. “Why not have emotionless sex again with Jacob?”

“Well, maybe I will.” I meet Tony’s stare while I pour the boiled water from the kettle into the cup and play with the teabag.

“Go ahead and do it, then. We both know you need to get laid. The way your Tinder date ended, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s your best bet right now.”

“Like I said, maybe I will, if I feel like it.”

“Okay. Maybe then you’ll admit I’m right.”

“You’re right regarding…?” I take a tiny sip of my piping hot tea, peering at Tony over the mug.

“Regarding how much you like Mr. Dreamy Neighbor,” he says. “It’s obvious he likes you, too.”

“It is?” I ignore the new name Tony has bestowed upon Jacob.

“Why else would he move to a small town where he doesn’t know anybody?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just a drifter. He never said he was going to stay here. Or maybe he’s got work to do.”

“Yeah? What kind of work?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what he does for a living.”

“Yeah. I’d bet my favorite Valentino shirt that Mr. Dreamy Neighbor’s here to do something, or someone, but it’s not work.” Tony raises one eyebrow and shoots me a sly smile.

“Hey, let’s not forget that he may have been sent by Stan to kidnap me, okay? I’ve never had a break-in before he moved in.”

“Is that why you didn’t stay at his place after he offered?”

“Kind of. It was also because the cops didn’t seem too worried about it, like that kind of thing happens all the time and nobody ever gets hurt, because the robber usually just wants to steal stuff and not hurt people. I figured I was safer on my own than with someone who could be Stan’s guy, who could’ve set up the break-in himself to trick me into staying with him.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Not really,” I admit. Jacob is a little rough around the edges, but I don’t get the vibes that he’d ever do anything to harm me. Having worked at a strip club for years, I know the telltale signs of a violent man, and Jacob is not one.

He’s a big guy, but he wouldn’t hurt me. Not unless I want him to. My dirty mind flies to the time we spent in his bed, his teeth biting on my neck, his fingers pulling my hair. Exquisite pain. Mind-blowing pain. Rock-my-world pain.

It’s rare that I come across a man who instinctively knows what I need and gives it to me. Most men are either too passive or too selfish in bed. Not Jacob. He took me fast and hard, used me for his pleasure, but not without making sure I’m satisfied, too.

“Earth to Jessie,” Tony says, putting an abrupt end to my daydream. “Sorry for the interruption, but the look on your face is…curious, to say the least.”

As I flick my gaze toward him, he smirks smugly and says, “Thinking about all the meaningless sex you’re going to have with Mr. Dreamy Neighbor?” He raises the pitch of his voice and says, “Oh, Mr. Dreamy Neighbor, I need to get laid so bad. Please do me with your dreamy, engorged manhood.”

“Whatever, Tony. I need to get to class.” I take my mug of tea with me as I rush out toward the hallway before Tony can come up with something snarky to say, before he notices my face turning red. My cheeks already feel warm. Damn my pale complexion.

I sit at my desk in my classroom. I actually still have a few minutes to waste before the bell rings, but Tony doesn’t need to know that.

I grab my phone and click the app with the envelope icon. I should really clear my mailbox someday. I’m subscribed to too many newsletters that I don’t even recognize anymore.

I delete most of my new emails until there are only three left. The electricity bill, the water bill, and an email from someone called Caine Foster with a subject that says “Urgent: We need to talk about Nancy Jones.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Could this be Stan catching up to me?

I haven’t shared this email address with anybody from my previous life. In fact, I deleted all my old online accounts and created new ones when I left the city.

There’s only one way to find out. I tap on the email to open it. The message inside is short.

Miss Lewis,

Please don’t be alarmed. You don’t have any reason to trust me, but I’m here to help you. We can’t discuss much over emails for obvious reasons. Please meet me in person. I’ll be in town two weeks from now. Pick a time and a public place where you’ll feel safe. Hope to hear back from you.

Regards,

Caine Foster