Teacher I Want To Date

by Kayla, Mia

  With me, everything in my life was a calculated event. She didn’t have to know that though.

  Her voice became louder, as though she was right behind me, and for the first time in forever, the insides of my palms began to sweat.

  Shit. What am I in for tonight?

  Gabby

  I placed my cocktail on the bar, an apple martini garnished with an apple slice. And it was yummy.

  “Martina, quit complaining.” I adjusted my sister’s silk scoop-neck top.

  She had wanted to show up in a fitted tee and jeans, but I couldn’t actually let her leave the house, looking like she was headed to class.

  “You are going to love this, and even if you don’t meet someone, it’s gonna help you become more social and will help you with your interview skills.” I fixed her hair that I had curled. “It will help you talk to other people—other than your family. This will be good for you, I promise.” I ran my fingers through some of her curls, loosening them up, and tipped her chin, smiling.

  My sister was beautiful and smart and also the shyest girl on the planet. Not shy when she was in front of our relatives, but shy when it came to people outside of her cheesy, big, singing Mexican family. So, when I’d seen this on a flyer, I had known this would be a great opportunity for her.

  Martina had never had a boyfriend. Maybe a holding-hands, let’s-go-on-a date kind of boyfriend, but never an I’m sooo in love that I can’t live without you kind of boyfriend. That was what I wanted for her. I wanted her to crawl out of her shell and fall head over heels and be in love, like a twenty-one-year-old should.

  Even though I should be jaded, given my bad luck in love, I wanted more for my sisters, me being a never-ending optimist when it came to everyone … except myself.

  How could she possibly find a man when she didn’t talk? Martina could get through a whole dinner without saying a word. Her nose was so deep into her books and studies that her grades were stellar, but she needed a little bit of self-esteem and personality to get by in the world. With job-hunting, you needed to sell yourself. You couldn’t rely on a stellar résumé. And with her one-worded responses to questions, she, so far, hadn’t done so great with interviews.

  “This is so stupid. I hate that you’re making me do this,” she whispered under her breath. “Are you my pimp now?” She pushed out her lip in a full-on pout.

  I laughed. “If that’s what they call an older sister trying to get her younger sister to experience life, then fine … pimp it is.”

  “I’ve told everyone I’m fine. Fine.” She scrunched her face like she had done when she was younger, when my mother and my other sister and I were trying to scold her.

  “It was forty bucks for this event, and you are going to have fun.” My voice was stern and authoritative in a big-sister, joking way—but not really.

  This was going down. I turned around and raised my hand to get the bartender’s attention, and it was as if I had been whacked in the face with my mama’s purse.

  I blinked, unbelieving. Was that the man I had kissed a mere three days, two hours, and who knew how many seconds ago? Yes, I remembered how long it had been since we were entangled in each other’s arms and lips and legs because I was still reeling over that kiss. He was standing right by the bar, next to someone equally attractive. I couldn’t even imagine someone like Mason being in a place like this. Speed-dating? Yeah, that didn’t seem like his style.

  Our eyes locked for a nanosecond, and I swore I stopped breathing. I was brought back to the day in my classroom. My legs wrapped around his waist. My hands through his hair. Our lips mashed together in the most memorable, hottest kiss I’d ever experienced in my life.

  I shifted in my spot, adjusted my skirt, and smacked my lips together. It was as if I was experiencing a heat wave, though we were smack dab in the middle of fall. He abruptly turned, but I knew he had seen me. He’d possibly seen me first.

  Did he not want me to be here? He had asked me out though. Did he follow me here? No. Impossible. That would mean he was crazy. But … I had found him following his niece to the mall, so I guessed I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I grabbed Martina’s hand and dragged us to the corner of the bar, where he was. “Hey …” I said to him. When he didn’t turn around, I poked at his shoulder.

  Slowly, he turned, and his eyes went wide, like a second too late, bad actor–style. I knew he had seen me. Nice. Real smooth.

  “Oh, hey. You’re here too.” Mason slapped his head, his voice obnoxiously loud. “What a coincidence, right?”

  I would have believed him if he wasn’t over the top with his actions, as though he’d just graduated the world’s-worst-actor academy.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you stalking me?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, running his hands through his hair. A nervous gesture, and if I was a behavioral psychologist, I would have read that answer as a yes.

  “No. Why would I be … I mean … why …” he stuttered, and all of a sudden, he started coughing as though his saliva had gone down the wrong pipe.

  The other gentleman with Mason took a step forward. “Hi, I’m Bradley. Don’t mind my brother here. He’s awkward. I brought him here to loosen up.” He extended a hand. “Let’s just call this a social experiment. And you are?” He dipped his chin, leaning toward me.

  I relaxed a little. Brother. Okay. I could see the resemblance. The dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes, the height, around the same built. But where this man was in-your-face pretty, Mason’s attractiveness was in his stance, the seriousness in his features that were subtle but sexy. It was in his eyes, the way you could see through them, and his lips were super lickable, where the bottom was a tad fuller than the top and where he had that sexy model-like bow that welcomed kisses like a gift. I swallowed and cleared my throat.

  “I’m Gabriella, but you can call me Gabby.”

  I understood social experiments. Hadn’t I taken Martina here for the very same thing? Then, suddenly, the thought of Martina and Mason made my stomach churn. What if they matched? Yeah … no. I’d have to tell her later that we’d shared spit, and he was off-limits.

  When I reached for Brad’s hand, I noticed a wedding ring, but the shine was dull, and giving it a closer look, I saw it looked like … plastic. Okay, whatever … next.

  I gave him a polite smile. “Yes. Social experiment. I get you. This is Martina.” I motioned to my sister, whose gaze had dropped to the floor as though there were something interesting for the ants to eat. “Martina … I just introduced you to someone. This is Bradley and Mason.”

  I bumped my shoulder against hers, prompting her to engage. She smiled, and her ears turned unbelievably red.

  “Name and maybe a little handshake would do well.” I rolled my eyes, and Brad laughed.

  “Nice … nice to meet you.” She briefly shook the guys’ hands as though they had cooties.

  Great. We are in grade school all over again.

  Brad motioned between me and Mason. “How do you guys know each other?”

  I let out a low chuckle. “Well, I called the cops on him. That’s how we originally met.”

  Mason grimaced and slowly shook his head as if to say, Not now. Guessed he hadn’t expected me to say that. At least, his reaction seemed genuine.

  Brad laughed and asked us what we wanted as he raised his hand, calling over the bartender. I asked for a Long Island iced tea, and my sister requested a Coke. Yes, she was old enough to drink, and yes, her choice of drink from this beautiful married man with a plastic ring was Coke.

  “Do tell,” Brad said, amused. “I want to hear all about it.” He leaned against the bar and tipped back his beer.

  “I thought he was a pedophile,” I said bluntly.

  Mason’s face lost color. “Wait. There is a reasonable explanation …” He stepped directly in front of me, blocking my view of Brad but not before throwing me a nasty little look.

  Brad spit up his drink, and it splattered all over his shirt,
all over the floor, moving to get in my line of sight again. “And why did you think that? Does he fit some sort of profile?” He held up a hand and took off his glasses, which looked fake, too, because of the way the frames were bending outward. He proceeded to wipe tears—full-on tears—from his eyes and motioned for me to continue. “Does he look like someone on the news or something?”

  Mason raised one hand in protest. “Gabby has the most vivid imagination …”

  My eyes tightened, and I blurted, “He was following one of my students.”

  Mason’s face turned beet red. I was talking about the kind of red like someone had smacked him over and over.

  “It’s not what you think.” Mason’s gaze passed over my sister and back to Brad, and then I got the evil eye when his eyes made their way to me. “See, Sarah was on a date. I had to make sure that—”

  Brad stiffened and sobered up real quick. “Wait. You followed Sarah the other day when she went to the mall with her friends?”

  “Yeah.” Mason lifted his chin as if to say, Duh.

  “She was hanging out with friends. It wasn’t a date,” I clarified. What is it with this guy and his need to be a protector and his ability to stretch the truth? Or maybe he really believed that he was entitled, and it was his duty to stalk her.

  “How could you?” Brad scowled, his voice louder than normal.

  People openly stared, but Brad didn’t quiet down. If anything, he got louder.

  “Why would you do that?” He stepped into his brother, and for a brief moment, I thought they were going to have it out.

  But then a woman tapped on the microphone in the center of the room, causing our attention to focus on her. The petite woman had sleek black hair pulled into a long ponytail. She wore an all-red cocktail dress that brought out her olive complexion. She tapped the mic twice again and spoke. And when I glanced back at the boys, their tempers were tamed—for now at least. Brad would most likely give it to his brother when they were behind closed doors.

  I smiled at the thought of Mason getting a good verbal beatdown from his brother. I wasn’t the only one who thought Mason had totally been out of line with Sarah.

  “Good evening, everyone. I’m Lily. Thank you for joining the fifth Single Mingle speed-dating extravaganza. This is how it’s going to work. We will separate you guys in groups and give you numbers. There are fifteen men and fifteen women today. Just remember, this is supposed to be light and fun. Tables are numbered, so please sit at your tables, and that’s where you’ll start. The men will rotate, and the women will remain seated. You’ll get a chance to speak and possibly match with those you are interested in.” She stepped to one of the circular tables in the middle of the room, grabbed a white notecard, and lifted it in the air. “These are conversation cards in case you get stuck. The timer is set to five minutes, so you’ll have five minutes to converse. When I pass out your numbers, you’ll also receive a separate piece of paper. Make sure you list who you match with by writing down their numbers. And if they by chance match with you, there will be an email in your inbox with their information. Now, let’s get started. Happy speed-dating.” She waved the white card in the air as though it were a flag at a beginning of a race and smiled gloriously.

  “Gabs …” Martina cringed beside me.

  I squeezed her arm to calm her and led us to the beginning of the line. “It’s not gonna be that bad. Really.”

  There were two lines, one for the men and one for the women. It felt like junior high. Actually, if you thought about the rules and the logistics, it was junior high but with alcohol.

  “Have fun, everyone. And appetizers and cocktails are included in your fee.” Lily passed us our numbers.

  I was eleven, and Martina was seven, so we weren’t seated by each other. Disappointment filtered through my veins. I had hoped I would be closer to her, so she was more at ease.

  Martina squeezing my hand had me tearing my focus from Mason and back at her. “Smile, Martina. You’re not going to jail. You make it seem like I’m taking you to walk the plank or something.” I gave her a consoling hug before we dispersed and headed to our seats.

  When I sat down, I spotted Mason on the other end of the room, and my mind couldn’t help but migrate back to the memory of his kiss, his lips, his hands. I touched the back of my neck, remembering his big, strong arms around my waist, the press of his firm chest against mine, and the masculine scent of him. My body tingled with want, with need, with a desire for another taste. How am I possibly going to get through this night without wanting to jump him? My eyes made their way across the room, sizing up the other candidates. Though I was here strictly for Martina, that didn’t mean I couldn’t look and admire.

  But as I took everyone in, I realized no one in the vicinity outdid Mason in looks.

  I picked up the conversation card in front of me.

  This is going to be a long night. We’d better get this show on the road.

  Chapter 10

  Mason

  “I can’t believe you followed her,” Brad muttered under his breath as we dispersed to our separate tables.

  For a moment, I wanted to respond, Yeah, me too, because I had followed Gabby here, like a lovesick puppy. But he wasn’t talking about Gabby; he was talking about Sarah. And with Sarah, I could believe I’d followed her because there had been no other option. I rolled my eyes as Brad went on and on about Sarah. Soon, Charles would know, and then I would never hear the end of it. Didn’t they understand I’d had good intentions?

  “And I know why you came here.” Brad lifted a knowing eyebrow. “That teacher.” When I opened my mouth to protest, Brad shot me a look. “Don’t even try to deny it. You’re so obvious. You couldn’t play it cool even if you tried.”

  Brad pointed at me before walking to the other side of the room. “We’re not done with this discussion.”

  He was number one, and thirteen was my number. Lucky thirteen hopefully.

  I sat in my seat, but my eyes flickered toward Gabby two seats down from me. I eyed the guy in front of her, looking at Gabby as though she were his next meal, and an unknown sound came out of my throat. I coughed and swallowed it down.

  What the hell was that? A growl?

  I shook my head and examined my competition. We were about equal height but most definitely not in equal in stature. My chest was broader; he was leaner.

  I didn’t have time to examine him further because the petite woman who was heading this thing up tapped twice on the mic and held a timer up in the air.

  “So, now that you’ve all taken your seats, we can get started. The wait staff will be walking around in case you need drinks. Your five minutes begins now.”

  I was so focused on Gabby that I hadn’t noticed the woman in front of me. She was attractive, as were all the women here. She had long, flowing caramel hair, emerald-green eyes, and a pouty mouth. But … she wasn’t Gabby.

  “Hi. I’m Mason.” I extended my hand and noticed her square pink nails.

  “Veronica,” she responded, smiling. “Have you ever been to one of these things?” Then, she giggled at her own question.

  I grinned politely. “No. First time. And hopefully last. My brother dragged me here.” That was a little white lie, but she didn’t have to know that.

  She laughed, and it was an annoying kind of laugh … a squeaky kind of laugh. I scrunched my face and then straightened.

  “Do we want to begin with the questions to make it easier?” I asked.

  She laughed again, as though that were funny, and then her laugh heightened to a screech that drew the attention of everyone around us.

  I reached for the card, knowing full well this might be the longest five minutes of my life. I asked her where she lived, where she worked, what she liked to do in her free time. Veronica was chatty, which was the only good thing. The timer ticked away.

  When she finally stopped to take a breath, she reached for her gin and tonic. “How about you? What do you like to do in your
free time?”

  And then the buzzer went off. I was literally saved by the bell.

  I smiled, stood, and extended my hand. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Veronica.”

  She laughed her high-pitched, screeching, nails-down-a-chalkboard laugh, and I was already up, seating myself opposite a woman with bleach-blonde hair, her dark roots peeking out from her highlights. My focus though was on Gabby, who was already chatting up her new partner—this male with dark brown hair and a fitted henley that showcased the strength in his upper body. Automatically, I sat straighter, pushing out my chest.

  The woman in front of me cleared her throat, forcing my focus back on her.

  “Hi, I’m Mason.” I extended my hand and confidently shook hers, my eyes flickering toward Gabby’s table, which was conveniently right next to me.

  “Claire, but my friends call me Claire Bear.” She smacked her gum and smiled.

  Is this girl legal? She looked like she was sixteen. But everyone here had to be legal to be drinking, right? Then again, we hadn’t exactly shown IDs at the door.

  “No way!” Gabby exclaimed, laughing.

  I watched her lean in, both arms resting on the table, and for the life of me, I wanted to know what their conversation was about.

  “Do you want me to start with the questions?” Claire reached for the card at the center of the table.

  “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” I replied, looking at Claire but leaning a tad bit to my right so I could hear Gabby and the muscle man’s conversation.

  “I can’t believe you’re a dancer too,” Gabby said.

  “So, Mason, what do you like to do for fun?”

  “I used to compete,” Henley Guy added.

  “Nooooo,” Gabby said. “I love that.” The excitement in her tone had me glancing back at her.

  Her smile was painfully beautiful, and my frown deepened because it was all directed toward Henley Guy.