Chapter Eight
Darcy
I walk through the doors of the classroom, my eye catching his. I smile as I sink into my seat. Did he think about me last night? I smother a grin, knowing I thought about him. I imagined him undressing me first, then his muscular hands roaming all over my bare skin while his mouth explored my body.
I clench my thighs together, getting excited just thinking about it. I’m trying to force myself to focus on something else when Cindy plunks herself down into the seat next to me, chattering away about her date the night before. At least that’s doing the trick as any desire I felt is slowly dissipating. I turn to her and smile. I really need to be nicer to her since she’s going out of her way to be friendly to me.
“How are you doing with classes? Catching up with the work?” she asks. “If you need any of my notes, just ask.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m pretty much caught up,” I smile.
I’m lucky in that my last school was slightly ahead in the curriculum than here, so if anything, it feels like I’m waiting for them to catch up to me. But then again, maybe I’m not lucky? Maybe if I had more work to focus on, I’d spend less of my time daydreaming about my teacher.
The girl from my altercation with Jack yesterday walks in, and when she spots me, she narrows her eyes. I glare back at her, refusing to let her get to me. All I want to do is coast through the semester, invisible to everyone but Lennon. The last thing I want is to get caught up in whatever this chick has going on with Jack. If he was trying to hit me up, maybe she should take the hint and move on from him.
Out of nowhere, Cindy suddenly giggles. I turn to her, amused, as she nods toward Lennon, her eyes sparkling. “I can’t tell you how good it is to finally have a hot teacher,” she whispers. “I wonder if he has a girlfriend?”
I feel a pang of jealousy, and it takes me by surprise. Hearing Cindy talk about how cute he is makes me realize that every girl in the class probably has her eye on him, too. Do I think I’m the only one here who touched herself last night, thinking about him? Half the class probably did the same thing. How could they not? Everything about him is perfect. It’s ridiculous, but I hate the thought of other girls wanting him, even when I know he’d never go there with any of them. But I never thought Tyler could be capable of something so bad, either. That’s the thing—how well do you ever really know someone?
“He’s pretty cute,” I mumble, realizing I haven’t answered her.
As I struggle to think of what else to say, Lennon calls for the class’ attention, saving me from the conversation with Cindy that I didn’t really want to have. I didn’t want to talk about how hot he is, or how fun it would be to kiss him, because all thinking about that would do is make me want him even more—if that’s even possible.
Sitting through his class is torture. All I can focus on is the smell of his aftershave as he walks past my desk, and the way he glances at me when he thinks I’m not looking. But I’m always looking. It’s ridiculous, but I can’t turn away. Thank God I’m ahead in English, otherwise I’d be at risk of failing through lack of concentration.
He dismisses the class when the bell sounds, but I hang around, taking my time to pack my things together. I tell Cindy I need to discuss something with him about my old syllabus. She buys it and tells me to call her so she can finish the story about her date. I wait until she’s safely out of the room before I wander over to his desk. I smile and sit down on the edge of it, pretending I don’t notice him tense in my presence. I wonder if he can hear my heart pounding? I glance around to make sure we’re alone.
“Can I help you, Darcy?” he asks, purposely not looking up at me.
“I’m just struggling a little bit with changing over from my old syllabus to this one,” I lie. “I thought maybe if you run over what I should be focusing on it might help... if that’s not too much trouble?”
His face softens, and he finally meets my eyes with his. “Sure, what are you struggling with the most?”
You. Being so close to you. Wanting you. All things I can’t say, of course.
“Um, mainly the readings,” I mumble. “I’m not sure which one I should read first, and which ones I can expect to be on the final exam.” Total bullshit, because I’ve read them all already—several times, in fact. “Sorry, I’m just all over the place with it all.”
“Don’t apologize,” he reassures me. “Regardless of what happened between us, I’m here to help you as much as you need me to, okay? Never feel like you can’t approach me, Darcy. I’m your teacher, first and foremost.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. I don’t want him to think of me as his student. I want him to look at me and see the woman he clicked with that night at the wedding, but I’m at a loss of how to make him do that, short of getting on my knees and taking him in my mouth again.
He shuffles closer to me and I swallow, my throat dry. I lose all hope of concentrating on what he’s saying and instead, I focus on him. The way his hair falls over his eyes, and the way his forehead scrunches up when he’s thinking seriously about something. My heart races as I watch his lips move and the overwhelming urge to kiss him surges through me.
Before I know what I’m doing, I lean forward and press my lips against his. He jumps, like he’s in shock, but his mouth doesn’t leave mine. Just when I’m sure he’s about to pull away, he’s kissing me back with just as much intensity as I’m putting in.
His hand caresses my neck, stroking my skin. I jump. His touch is intoxicating. I breathe in, doing everything I can to memorize this moment. The way he smells, his taste, the feeling of his soft lips against mine, just in case I never get to experience it again.
Then, just like that, the moment passes and he pulls away, disappointment clouding his eyes. I’m sure it’s not directed at me, though. He seems disappointed in himself. He glances toward the open classroom door and curses. I flush, because it was stupid of me to do that here, of all places. All it would’ve taken is one person to see us, and his career would be over. I don’t care about myself. What do I have to lose? But him… I know how hard he’s worked to get here, and I don’t want to be the reason he’d lose all that.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble. I feel my face heat up as I back away from his desk. I’m embarrassed I put him in that situation, but I’m more ashamed that, given the chance, I’d probably do it again. I grab my backpack and leave the room as quickly as my legs will carry me.
Outside, I fall onto the grass, a mixture of exhilaration and panic. I just made this whole thing worse, but in some strange way it was worth it. I laugh at how selfish that sounds, but I’m so damn confused about how I feel. Five minutes ago, I was worried about jeopardizing his career. Now, here I am, ecstatic that he’s still attracted to me.
The thing I focus on most is the fact that he kissed me back. He didn’t push me away, and that means he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I didn’t imagine a connection—it was there, and it’s still there now, even after the truth came out.