Chapter Five
Lennon
It’s been a week since the wedding, and I can’t get her out of my head. I guess that’s a good thing, because that was the whole idea in the first place, right? To distract myself from Stacy? Well, it’s worked. I’ve barely thought about Stacy all week. Now all I need to do is figure out how to get in contact with my mystery girl and I’m set.
It’s Sunday afternoon, and my last day of freedom before I start my new job. I spent the morning getting everything ready and doing my best to get my head in the right space for working a full-time, high pressure job. The nerves are starting to kick in. What if I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing? What if the kids are mean little assholes who go out of their way to make my life hell? What if I’m in way over my head? I pretend I’m a functioning adult, but half the time it feels like I’m just playing a role that I know nothing about. I feel like a little kid who wants to be a grown up.
The funny thing is, one of the most common arguments I had with Stacy was over settling down. I wanted it, she didn’t. I wanted to marry her, but she wanted us to wait. I’m kind of glad it never happened for us, because I really don’t think I was ready, and obviously she wasn’t either. Maybe I wanted it because I knew that would push her away? Nah, I’m not that deep.
By mid-afternoon, I’m sitting in front of the television, bored out of my mind. I slouch further back into my seat and use my foot to try to wrangle my phone onto my leg and slide it up to my lap, because I’m feeling that lazy. In the end, the stupid thing falls on the floor, and it’s more effort to pick it up than it would’ve been just to grab it off the table in the first place.
Sighing, I snatch it up and bring up Gary’s number. He’s on his honeymoon, but I press call anyway. If you can’t talk to your best friend about shit like this when it’s actually happening, then what’s the point in having a best friend?
Still, I’m shocked when he answers his phone. That either says he really values our friendship, or the twenty-four-seven sex he was expecting isn’t happening.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.
“On your end? Not much, I’m guessing,” I joke, rubbing my forehead.
He laughs. “Trust me, man, you caught us on a break. There has been no shortage of shenanigans over here, I can promise you that.”
“Way too much information, thanks, Gaz,” I grumble. “But I’m glad to hear you’re having fun. Meanwhile, I’m back here and enjoying my last day of freedom before work.”
“Dude, if you’re after sympathy, you can fuck right off,” he chuckles. “You pretty much had the last three months off, doing shit all. You’re hardly in the position to complain about your hectic workload, especially when it hasn’t even begun.”
“Yeah, and that’s a hard thing to go from doing nothing to full-time work,” I protest. I’m certainly not feeling the love I was hoping for. “Anyway, I didn’t call to discuss my schedule with you.”
“Right… so why the hell did you call me in the middle of my honeymoon? Trying to ruin that, too?” he chuckles.
“I wanted to ask you something,” I say, ignoring his gibe.
“Dude, if this is about Stacy—”
“It’s not,” I assure him with a laugh. “Do you remember when I took your wedding car for a bit of a, uh, drive?” He laughs and mutters something under his breath. “Did you happen to see the girl I was with?”
“You mean, Darcy?”
Darcy. I laugh. That’s goddamn perfect.
“Yeah. You wouldn’t happen to have her number, would you?”
“Dude,” Gary laughs, “she’s seventeen or eighteen, or something. I know I said you should move on from Stacy, but with Darcy?”
“She’s eighteen, and the last time I checked that was legal.” I retort. “Besides, this is your business, how?”
He laughs again. “It became my business when you interrupted my honeymoon asking for her number.” He pauses. “No, actually, it became my business when you guys stole my wedding car. So, is this a rebound from Stacy? Because I’m not sure Casey is gonna want you boning her cousin.”
“Third cousin,” I correct. “And, apparently, they’re not that close anyway. Do you even have to tell her? Can’t you just sneak into her phone or something and grab the number for your bestest friend in the whole world?”
“I’m not even sure she has her number,” he says. “You said yourself that they’re not even close, and I don’t think there’s any way around me asking her for it, so I guess it depends on how badly you want it. Your call.”
“Fine,” I grumble, knowing I’m probably never going to live it down. “Ask her then.”
“Wow, it must be serious,” he chuckles. “I’m glad to see that you’re moving on from Stacy, but don’t hurt this kid, okay?”
“Please, never refer to her as a kid ever again. Ever. Never ever,” I repeat, my mind unwillingly traveling back to what happened in the water. I shudder.
“Whatever, dude. I’ll get what you want and text it to you. Can I get back to my honeymoon now? Unless you want my grandma’s number, too? I mean, in case you wanna cover the entire age spectrum?”
“Fuck off,” I growl. “Say hi to Casey for me. Tell her again, I’m sorry about the car,” I add.
“Dude, I’m not fucking mentioning it,” he says with a chuckle.
***
It’s nine in the evening, and I’ve all but given up on hearing back from Gary when my phone beeps. I scoop it up, my heart beating faster when I see a message from him. Opening it, I cheer. Yes, I literally cheer like a fourteen-year-old boy.
Jesus, Lennon, calm the fuck down.
I stare at the number and wonder what I’m going to do with it. Am I going to call her? Text? I pace the small living area of my apartment, trying to figure out what my best move is. I don’t want to scare her off, so I want to avoid coming on too strong. I mean, if she was just into something casual, like a one-off thing, then calling her might be too much. If she’s after something no strings, that’s fine, but I’m really hoping that she’s as keen as I am to see where this can go.
In the end, I decide a text is safest, because it gives her the option to fuck me off if she’s not interested. I type out a message and press send before I can second guess myself.
Me: I hope you haven’t stolen any more cars since last week.
Darcy: Who is this?
Really? I snort. Does she really need to ask that, unless she’s in the habit of stealing vehicles with strange guys? The thought makes me jealous.
Me: I’d say it’s Lennon, but you’ll probably better remember me as Mr. Anderson.
I wander into the kitchen and grab a beer from the fridge, twisting the cap open. I have a sip while I wait for her to reply. God, I’m so nervous. It’s been a while since a girl has had this kind of effect on me—I’ve been out of the dating game for too long.
I was with Stacy for so long that my longest relationship prior to her was the two-week relationship I had with Mindy Higgins in seventh grade. She dumped me, telling everyone that I wouldn’t do anything other than kiss her. In my defense, I was twelve and trying to be a gentleman.
I met Stacy at the start of junior year in high school, and before long we were together pretty much every day. I guess that’s why she’s been so hard to move on from—because she was part of my life for so long. I’m not even sure if I really loved her or whether I just felt comfortable with her. It’s so easy to not put yourself out there, and convince yourself that what you have is good enough. The problem with that, though, is that sometimes good enough isn’t enough. Sometimes you need more than just enough.
My phone vibrates in my hand, interrupting my deep thinking. I glance down and smile when I see that she’s replied.
Darcy: Right :) Sorry, I’m a little shocked to hear from you. Does my cousin still hate you?
Me: She’ll get over it. I mean, she gave me your number, so that must mean she still likes me, right?
Darcy: Maybe. Or it means she really hates me.
I laugh. Good point.
Me: Altogether possible. You did ruin her wedding, after all.
Darcy: Me? Last time I checked, you were the one driving the car, hotshot.
Our text session continues well into the night, and it doesn’t look like letting up anytime soon. I learn a lot about her, but I’m keen to know even more. All this has done is strengthen my desire to get to know her more. I decide to bite the bullet and just ask. The worst she can do is say no.
Me: So, if I asked you out would you say yes?
Darcy: That depends…
Me: On what?
Darcy: Ask me tomorrow.
Me: What’s so special about tomorrow?
Darcy: Just trust me. If you still want to catch up with me after tomorrow, I will. Anyway, I should go. Classes start again in the morning and I should be catching up on some reading. Night, Mr. Anderson ;)
I stare at her cryptic message, trying to figure out what it means. How is tomorrow going to change anything? Is she going to turn into a pumpkin after midnight? I shake my head, not getting it. Maybe it’s a teenage thing. Maybe Gary is right. Maybe she’s too young for me, but this is the first time I’ve seen her be anything other than straightforward and blunt.
It’s one of the things I like about her. She says what she thinks, and doesn’t care about the consequences. Sighing, I give up and toss my phone on the desk. It’s just clicking on midnight and I know I need to get some sleep or I’m going to be wrecked tomorrow.
***
My head pounds as I roll over and open my eyes. It takes me a moment to remember what I’m supposed to be doing today. It’s something important. I remember that much. Shit. I fly out of bed and check my phone for the time. No, no, no. Not today. How the hell did I manage to sleep through my alarm, today of all days? Fucking awesome.
I kick myself into gear, having the world’s quickest shower and downing a straight black coffee while simultaneously getting dressed. I’m so glad I laid out my clothes last night like a five-year-old, because it’s the only thing giving me a chance in hell at not being late on my first day.
Sprinting out to my car, I jump in, belt up, and roar off down the street. I haven’t even woken up properly. My head is pounding from lack of sleep and not enough caffeine, and I have no idea how I’m going to get through the day. I’ll be lucky if I survive my first class. I shake my head, because the day is off to a great start. I just hope it gets better.
My only saving grace as I pull into the parking lot is that I know the school’s layout back to front. And so I should, considering I spent five years there. Yep, I’m teaching at my old school. Half the staff are still here, and I can’t tell you how awkward it feels walking in as a teacher and not a student.
The place still looks the same, and as I poke my head into the staff room, I feel like an imposter. It’s like I’m back in school and I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be, waiting to be told off. As I set my bag down to make another coffee, my old science teacher turns around and glares at me. I force a smile, half expecting him to throw me out of the room. Instead, he walks over and claps his hand on my back, a huge smile on his face.
“Lennon Anderson, you little shithead.”
I laugh, because it’s good to see he hasn’t changed. Mr. Jenkins was known for being loud, abusive, and downright rude, but the students found him hilarious. He’s been here longer than any other staff member. He was like the school’s mascot when I was a student, and no one had the balls to tell him to tone it down. He was the only teacher I’d ever known to swear in the presence of students and not give a shit about it. It was great.
“Peter,” I say with a grin, using his name for the first time in my life. It feels weird. “How’s it going?”
“Good, kid, but…” He glances at the clock, a smirk on his face. “Maybe I should be asking you that?”
“What, it’s five to eight. I’m on time,” I protest.
“Barely. There’s on time and there is on time. Most newbies turn up an hour early on the first day, just because they’re so scared of fucking up. But not you. I love it,” he grins, slapping me on the back again. “Have a good day, Lennon. You and I should go out for drinks later, okay?” I nod, because I don’t feel it was as much of a question as it was an expectation.
I quickly down another coffee, throw a mint into my mouth, and sprint over to the east wing, where my first class is probably waiting for me. Standing outside the door to my new classroom, I’m silently shitting myself. The nerves have hit suddenly, but they’ve hit with a vengeance.
All I can think about is what I was like as a senior, especially to new teachers. We made it our mission to make as many as possible quit. One semester we hit fifteen. Fifteen inexperienced and terrified teachers never to walk within these walls again because we were such assholes. Are they planning something similar for me? God, I hope not, but I’m expecting the worst and hoping for the best.
I take a deep breath and push open the door, walking inside to meet my new students. It feels so weird to say that. And just like that, my mentality shifts from fearing what they’re capable of, to being excited over what they are capable of. Their future is in my hands. Who knows, maybe I’ll inspire them and be the influence that determines some major decisions in their lives.
The noisy classroom falls quiet as I walk into the room. My hands shake as I take my place at the desk. I sit on the edge, my hands under me, so as not to give my nerves away. I smile as I glance around the room, too nervous to focus on anyone, then, I turn my attention to the blackboard.
I pick up a piece of chalk and scrawl my name across the board. My heart is beating so loud that I’m sure the students in the first row can hear it. A couple of giggles pass through the silence, but I don’t falter. It’s like being at war. Never show your weakness to the enemy.
“Hey, guys. I’m Mr. Anderson,” I say, surprised at how calm and collected I sound. “I’m taking over from Miss Philly for this semester while she’s away on maternity leave. I hope you’ll cut me some slack and understand that this is my first real job teaching.”
As soon as I say that, I get the feeling that it was probably something I should’ve kept to myself. A couple of the guys in the back row exchange a knowing grin, and I make a mental note to keep an eye on them.
“So,” I say, with what I hope is a confident expression. “Let’s get to know each other. I’ll start. I’m Lennon, I’m twenty-five and I love soccer and rock music. Who’s next?”
A hand slowly rises in the middle of the room, and I nod in their direction, thankful that someone is cutting me a break. I take a moment to recoup and then turn my attention to them.
And, just like that, everything falls apart. My eyes widen as I stare at her. No. Fuck, no. This can’t be happening. I blink, convinced I’m hallucinating. The lack of sleep is making me see her everywhere. That’s the only explanation. But when I look again, it’s still her. Here. In my classroom.
“I’m Darcy. I’m eighteen, and I like fast cars.” She takes a deep breath, her gaze meeting mine. “And like you, this is my first day here, too.”
She stands there, her hands clasped in front of her, staring at me through those sexy blue eyes. Her black skirt is cut off at mid-thigh, giving me an eyeful of her creamy white legs. My heart pounds. I can’t believe this is happening.
Suddenly, her cryptic messages make sense. This was why she wanted me to wait until today. Anger surges through me. She knew. She knew who I was, and she didn’t say anything. But worse than that was what she did; how could she do that, knowing I was about to become her teacher?
It takes me a minute to gather my composure, but somehow, I manage to do it. I nod, hoping my smile is empty and meaningless and not full of all the mixed emotions I’m feeling. As I move on to the next student and ask them to introduce themselves, I feel her eyes on me, but I refuse to look back at her. I can’t handle seeing her face right now. I need to distance myself and pretend I haven’t met her before, but it’s hard when all I can think about is that night. And it wasn’t just about the head, it was everything. I thought I’d hit it off with her, only to learn that she’d been playing me.
***
What is only a forty-five-minute class feels like it’s dragging on forever. I’ve done my best to not draw attention to the fact that one of my students has sucked my cock, and just carried on with my class. Under the circumstances, I think I’ve done quite well. Finally, the bell rings, and the students pile out of the classroom in quick succession.
All except one. She’s the one I want gone the most, but she looks like she has no intention of leaving. I busy myself at my desk, pretending I don’t notice she’s still sitting there, staring at me. I don’t trust myself to speak to her at the moment—or ever again, because, God knows what ridiculous thoughts are going to come tumbling out of my mouth.
My heart pounds, and all I can think about is that moment in the water where her lips wrapped around my cock. I curse myself as my pants constrict. A hard-on is definitely not what I need right now.
The sound of her chair kicking back startles me, and then out of the corner of my eye, I see her walk across the room in my direction. When she reaches my desk, I know I can’t ignore her any longer so I look up and sit back in my seat, frowning at her. She wears that same, confident smile as she did in the car when I first met her, but in her eyes, I can see she’s nervous—like she doesn’t know how I’m going to react. She wets her lips and takes a deep breath.
“I had no idea who you were until you mentioned this high school,” she begins.
I think back, and she’s right. There was no mention of anything that might link us together until just before we arrived back at the reception. I’m not sure what this changes—it certainly doesn’t alter the fact that she had my dick in her mouth, but maybe it clears her a little bit of the responsibility. She still should’ve said something then, though. I frown at her, impressed with my ability to remain as calm as I am.
“You still should’ve given me a heads up,” I reply. She raises her eyebrows at my choice of words, and my face heats up.
“I didn’t know what to say,” she says with a laugh.
She sits on the front of one of the desks behind her, crossing her legs one over the other, while I try to drag my eyes away from her bare thighs. My pants restrict even more and I frown, angry at my body for reacting to her.
“Hey, you might be my teacher, would have been a great start,” I grumble.
“Yes, maybe I should have warned you—”
“Even last night,” I retort, cutting her off. “I was texting you, for God’s sake. At least your cryptic comments now make sense. You seriously think I’m going to date you after this?”
“No,” she replies testily. “I don’t. I’m not an idiot, Lennon. I know this changes everything, which is exactly why I said wait until today. If I’d given you a straight out no, would you have accepted that?”
“Probably not,” I mutter.
“Exactly.” She sighs. “I agree with you. Maybe I didn’t handle this the best way I could have, but I didn’t know what to do. I thought we really hit it off. How do you think I felt finding out that you might be my teacher after what I did?”
Her cheeks redden, and again my cock reacts. I’m hard as fuck, and I can’t concentrate on her words, because all I really want to do is walk over there and kiss her, and feel her body press up against mine again.
“Okay, we can’t talk about this now,” I mumble, aware that my next class of students are starting to filter into the room. My biggest concern right now is that I’m about to teach a class with an erection. “I’m sure you have somewhere you should be? I’ll text you later and we can meet up somewhere and talk, okay?” Her eyes light up, and my own narrow. “Talk, Darcy. That’s it. Talk.”
“Okay, I get it,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.
I sit at my desk, my hands clasped in front of me as she stalks out of the room. I can’t look at her as I’m scared I won’t be able to look away. With a sigh, I sit back and close my eyes for a few seconds. Something tells me saying no to her is going to be easier said than done.
What the fuck am I going to do?