Chapter Eight
Leo
I showed up to class early, walking into an empty classroom for maybe the first time ever. Even on the first day of class, there had already been a dozen students seated by the time I’d arrived. But now here I was, the place empty, and it seemed peaceful and calm, and maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to show up early more often.
No sooner did such a thought cross my mind than Kristin arrived.
“Oh,” she said as she walked into the classroom. “You’re here early.”
“Am I?” I tried to sound nonchalant, though the truth was, I was looking forward to this class more than I could ever remember looking forward to a class before. Usually, I was dashing into the classroom a few seconds before the official start, Kristin waiting like a patient dog for her harried owner, doing her dutiful duty of answering student questions and going over homework.
She ducked her head as she pulled her messenger bag strap off and over her shoulders.
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “But it’s nice to have a few minutes with you before they start pouring in.”
She dragged one of the chairs over next to me, and when she sat down, our legs were touching. I waited a second and then pulled mine back.
Last night, I’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about whether or not this was something that I should actually do. I knew this was something illicit, something that would be frowned upon, and yes, something that would potentially get me fired if word got out. Was this really something that I wanted to pursue? It was. Not because I couldn’t take a more traditional route to get laid (hell, all I had to do was text Colette and she’d be over at my place on her back in 10 seconds flat) but because this was giving my life the sort of excitement that had been sorely lacking since I’d been canned from the magazine.
If Tessa showed up today wearing something that would let me know she was still interested, I’d consider it the green light, full steam ahead. If she didn’t, then I’d just pretend like the whole thing had never happened. Hell, I’d even give her the fucking grade she wanted anyway; what did I care?
Kristin was talking to me, and I nodded every so often, gave a noncommittal grunt or hmmm every few seconds. I had no idea what she was saying. Kristin wanted to work in newspapers, or write a column, or have a blog article she wrote go viral, and I knew she viewed me as someone who had achieved what she hoped to.
“. . . very exciting, don’t you agree?” Kristin looked at me.
“Definitely,” I said, nodding vigorously. I knew if I waited a moment, she’d give some sort of clue as to whatever the hell it was she’d just been going on about.
“Though if I were the one in charge, I would change the name. Benton Daily Journal. That’s so . . . I don’t know. Unexciting. But that’s beside the point, for right now, anyway. I think it’s great that the school will finally have a newspaper again. I told Shannon I’d be willing to help you out in any way possible.”
“I’m sure she was thrilled to hear that.”
“She was.”
I was glad when students started filing in, not just because that meant Tessa would be arriving, but because Kristin and I could stop talking about the fucking school newspaper, which was already turning into a huge pain in my ass. I watched as the students came in. Tessa was usually one of the first, but I counted 12 students at their seats before I glanced over at the doorway and saw her there. I blinked, not certain for a moment that I could trust what my eyes were seeing.
Tessa appeared to be wearing leopard print leggings with a short black skirt over them. Every student in the classroom turned to watch her walk in, and she did so, with her head down, hurrying to her seat as quickly as possible. I realized as I watched her come in, though, it wasn’t a leotard, but one of those cycling skin suits, and about an inch of the shorts part of it was visible below the hemline of her skirt.
Kristin caught me looking but took it the wrong way. “What the hell is she wearing?” she muttered to me, barely concealing the roll of her eyes. “Is it dress like your favorite animal day and no one told me?”
“Must be,” I said, finally forcing myself to tear my eyes away from Tessa. Well. I wanted a sign that she was still interested in doing this—clearly, she was.
We spent the majority of class going over the reading they’d done, and I let Kristin lead the discussion, which we hadn’t discussed earlier, but I knew she liked to and this freed me up to pretend that I wasn’t looking over in Tessa’s direction. I noticed, though, that every other guy in the classroom was, too, some more than others. Tessa appeared to be trying to focus on whatever it was that Kristin was saying, but whenever she raised her hand to add something to the discussion, Kristin passed over her and called on someone else.
The third time this happened, Tessa put her hand down and looked right at me. I raised my eyebrows and gave her a tiny smile, but I didn’t do anything to stop Kristin. Kristin was in the zone now, anyway, and interrupting her would be akin to a scuba diver surfacing too quickly. If I were to interrupt this discussion she had going about the ethical responsibility a journalist had to her sources, she’d probably have some sort of breakdown, right there in the middle of class. But I let my gaze linger on Tessa while she watched me, just to let her know that I both approved and appreciated her choice of clothing.
At the end of class, Kristin assigned the next chapter in the textbook for homework, as well as a critical analysis of a feature article about the importance of the free lunch program in middle schools. I didn’t need to read the article to know that the importance of any school free lunch program is the fact that it is often the only meal that impoverished children can count on, and taking it away meant there were some that might go a whole day without an actual meal, whether it was because there was no money to afford food at home or the house was run by a single parent who was too busy out making minimum wage to be able to make sure the children ate anything more than peanut butter and toast.
I grabbed a stack of the photocopies, though, and stood up, handing them out. When Kristin shot me a quizzical look, I shrugged it off.
“Just trying to feel useful,” I said.
She smiled, obviously thinking that I was giving her a compliment because she’d just conducted class so well. I handed copies of the stapled article to each student, glad that Tessa was sitting at the far end of the row, meaning I would get to her last. I handed a copy to her friend Lindsey, who was giving me the eyes, and then I pretended several of the articles were stuck together, buying me a little time, before I finally detached one and gave it to Tessa. Our fingertips brushed.
“Wait 10 minutes and then come to my office,” I said in a low voice. I wasn’t sure if she’d even heard me, but then she nodded. She started to pack up her stuff and follow the rest of the students out of the classroom.
“So, how’d I do?” Kristin asked. “I think it went pretty well,” she said before I could respond. “I’d say most of them actually did the reading. Which is a pleasant surprise.”
“You’re right,” I said. She looked pleased that I was agreeing with her. “That whole class was one big pleasant surprise.”