Teacher I Want To Date

by Kayla, Mia

  “Earth to Mason.” Claire waved a hand in front of my face. “It looked like you were sleeping with your eyes open.” She laughed. “So, what do you like to do for fun?”

  I cleared my throat, feeling way too distracted. “Clean. Fold laundry. Organize my file cabinets,” I replied with honesty, not caring that my life sounded dull and boring. “You?”

  “Lalos is where I usually end up going on a Friday night,” Henley Guy added.

  Claire kept talking. I barely heard her mention clubbing and surfing.

  I responded with a typical, “How fun,” or, “How nice,” or, “That’s exciting,” but my focus was on Gabby and Henley Guy.

  “We should totally go together,” Gabby said.

  I double-blinked.

  What the hell? She had denied me when I asked her out, and she was accepting this guy’s invitation? My fists clenched and unclenched underneath the table. I couldn’t place the emotion. Was I offended?

  Hell yeah, I was. But more than that, jealousy flared within me. And I wasn’t the jealous type. Men had looked and gawked and openly flirted with Janice. Had I cared? No … because, at the end of the day, she had been loyal to me. She’d always been, which was one of the reasons it had been so hard to leave her. How could I be disloyal to someone who’d been loyal to me for years? It wasn’t like she hadn’t had her opportunities or I hadn’t had my share of looks and flirty stares and blatant invitations.

  “That’s awesome,” I replied.

  I smiled at Claire, but my ears were tuned to the conversation to my right.

  Claire said, “And so I walk naked around my neighborhood, eat aliens after dinner …”

  “Good. Great.” My smile dimmed as I caught the last few words. “I mean …”

  The buzzer went off, and Claire leaned in, whispering so no one else could hear, “I don’t even blame you. She’s stunning.” She tipped her head in Gabby’s direction.

  “I’m an asshole,” I said, feeling like shit as I stood.

  Claire looked unoffended—thankfully. “No. It’s totally okay. You’re not my type either. It’s fine.” She patted my hand when the next guy took my seat.

  Henley Guy stood, but they were both cackling at who knew what. I stood behind him, straightening to full height and pushing back my shoulders, obviously waiting for my chair that he would not give up. Gabby hadn’t looked up at me, even when I was directly in front of her, and that irked me, mostly because her attention was all on Henley Guy.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and flexed, and as I glanced down at my suit jacket, I knew it was all for nothing because no one could see my body in this thing. That was when I decided to take off my suit jacket.

  “I think we’re a match, Gabby.”

  He extended his hand for her to shake, but I stepped in front of him and inched him out of the space. He shot me a look, but ask me if I cared. Then, I sat down, ready to get my session started.

  She fluffed out her hair and waved at Henley Guy, pointing to her number pinned to her shirt. No way. Anymore of that, and I’d throw her on this table and kiss the hell out of her again.

  I gave her my most suave smile, preparing my list of questions when the buzzer for our five minutes sounded.

  But before I could say anything, she leaned in, pointed a finger at me, and narrowed her eyes. “Tell the truth now …” She tilted her head. “Are you stalking me?”

  A nervous laugh escaped me, so high-pitched that it sounded like it had come from a girl. “No. Why? I mean …”

  “I’m totally kidding. Relax.” She let out a small laugh, waved a hand, and sat back in her chair. “See anyone you are interested in yet?”

  If eyes could smolder, I was giving her the smolder. Yeah, I see someone I’m very interested in. “I’ve only really spoken to two people.” The smoldering wasn’t working. I could tell.

  “I know. Doesn’t it seem like time is flying?” She picked up her glass, placing it on her lips.

  Time flying? No. The last two conversations had been torture times five to the tenth power.

  She grinned, glancing at Henley Guy again. “I came here for Martina, but I think I might be having a little more fun.”

  She leaned in, and my eyes flickered to her sweet, suckable lips. My mouth went dry as I thought of what they’d taste like again.

  I placed my elbow on the table but then missed and nearly hit my chin.

  I suppressed a groan. Why couldn’t I be the brother with more game?

  “Look at her,” Gabby sighed. “She looks like she’s having a stomach problem.”

  She tilted her head to the left and I followed her line of sight. She wasn’t wrong. Despite the good-looking dude sitting across from her, Martina was staring at the glass she was holding in front of her as though it were her best friend. I could sense the anxiety flowing through her.

  “Yeah. She doesn’t look well.”

  Gabby shook her head and reached for the card in the center of the table. “She’ll be fine. That’s how she always looks in social situations. Let’s start with some questions.”

  I frowned. I wondered if she picked up the card with the other guy. She most definitely hadn’t had to prompt her conversation with Henley Guy.

  She ruffled her hair and rested her elbows on the table, angling closer. “Mason, what do you like to do for fun?”

  I leaned in, too, our hands almost touching on the table. The urge to hold her hand, to be nearer was unbearable. “I don’t do much really. Hang out with my family. Watch Netflix. I like to organize in my free time.”

  My smile slipped as I reviewed what I’d said in my head. People might think that I lead a boring life, but I loved my life. And I loved spending it with the people I loved. I loved organizing and cleaning and folding and cooking. Those unexceptional things made me happy.

  She nodded with a small smile—a forced smile, a bored smile—and I fucking panicked, adding, “I like to dance.”

  Her eyes widened, but so did mine, and I reeled back, sitting straighter in my chair. I’d gotten her attention now. But where the hell did that come from? The only dance I knew was one where I held a beer and bobbed my head at the side of the room—as a spectator watching other people dance.

  “You do?” Her whole demeanor lit up, and she bit her bottom lip, almost bouncing on her seat with the news. She was so close that the sweet scent of her wafted my way, and it aroused me. “Like club dancing, ballroom dancing? What kind of dancing? I’m a dancer too. I used to be on Poms in high school and for part of college. I did compete a bit after college, just for fun.”

  Oh, God, was she beautiful. The way her natural smile lit up the hazel in her eyes, the way her long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders.

  Keep this going. You can do this. I gave myself a little pep talk. “I used to take ballroom dancing classes,” I lied through a forced smile.

  Brad had taken ballroom dancing with one of his exes. If he was playing intellectual, math genius me, I was going to play debonair, dancing him.

  Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Did they teach you the cha-cha? Did you know that the cha-cha is a true Latin dance that originated from Cuba?”

  I nodded because I had no idea what the cha-cha was, and I didn’t want to feel stupid enough to ask.

  “And the salsa and waltz,” I added because although I didn’t know how to actually dance the waltz or salsa, I knew what those dances were.

  With every word that spewed from my mouth, the deeper I sank into my pit of lies. But as her smile widened, it gave me motivation to keep it going.

  My palms began to sweat like I was a teenage boy having his first crush. If you could call this a crush. It was more like a strong infatuation. I had just followed her here.

  I usually planned things out so thoroughly, but I had come here on a whim. Now, I was sitting here with no idea what to ask her beyond selling myself on a date.

  She practically beamed with enthusiasm, her cheeks glowing. “I can’t believe
you dance.”

  I raised my eyebrows and grinned. I can’t believe it either.

  She leaned in further where our fingers were almost touching, and I itched to do something as simple as hold her hand.

  “I can’t get a good read on you.” She squinted and really took me in, her look warming me all over. “Just when I’ve figured you out, I’m all wrong.”

  My fingers moved an inch forward toward hers. “People can be unpredictable.” Not me, not usually.

  We were locked in this intense gaze, as though I could read the span of thoughts in her head. A part of me believed she was just as nervous as I was.

  She cleared her throat and was the first to break contact. “You know what’s unpredictable”—she motioned to the other side of the room, where my brother was chatting up a busty redhead—“is that these women are chatting up the married man.”

  “Married?” I squeaked. Like literally.

  “Yeah, he’s blatantly wearing a ring.” She scrunched up her face and tilted in Brad’s direction. “It looks like a fake ring if you ask me. Is he not married?”

  “He’s in a serious relationship, but yeah, he’s not married yet. Soon, I assume.” I shrugged.

  She gazed at Brad almost affectionately. “It’s cool that his girlfriend is okay with it, and he’s the sweetest for trying to get you to try new things. I should know.” She patted herself on the shoulder, playing cute.

  How much time had passed? I didn’t want to spend the remaining minutes talking about Brad. I peered down at my watch, sweating as I watched the seconds tick away. Time seemed to move in hyper-speed, and I wanted to know about her.

  “Enough about my brother. How about you? What do you like to do for fun? What would you consider an amazing first date? Tell me about your family, your life goals.”

  “Whoa. That’s a lot to cover in less than five minutes.”

  I tapped the table twice, challenging her. “Then, you’d better start talking.”

  She blinked and then started speed-talking, but in English, like I figured she could. “All right. I love to dance, which you now know. I love to eat and make tamales, which I’m a pro at. It’s my grandma’s recipe, and everyone needs to try one of her tamales before they die. I enjoy bike rides and swimming at the lake. I love to hang out with my big, crazy family. I have two sisters and a mother who is a queen and has raised us by herself for the longest time. God put me on Earth to teach. I love my students so hard, and I most definitely cry at the end of the school year because I know it won’t be the same, seeing them in the halls versus having them in my class every day.” She tapped her chin once. “I’d consider a good date to include a lot of food, laughter till my belly hurts, and maybe some dancing. Life goals? A loving husband and a house full of kids in the future. Simply to be happy.” She perked up and her eyes sparkled when she spoke. “That might have been out of order, but I think I answered it all. What else you got?” She straightened, wiggled her eyebrows, and smiled.

  Right then and there, I knew I was smitten with this woman. She didn’t seem shy in giving too much information, and she was confident in her own skin. More than that, her life goals were my life goals.

  And then the buzzer rang.

  Just when things had been getting good.

  Wait. I’m not ready!

  I needed hours, days, to get to know her, to drink her every life lesson up. I wanted to know about her childhood, about her high school and college life. Maybe not the exes, just yet.

  It took a few long seconds for me to get up; she wasn’t moving either. I’d like to believe that she also wanted more time.

  “Mason, it was a pleasure.” She extended her hand, and I took it in mine, squeezing it, noticing how soft her skin was. Our connection lingered, her soft palm in my rough one.

  “Always.”

  A guy cleared his throat because I had not vacated my seat.

  That’s right. My seat. Don’t forget it.

  The woman at the next table was blatantly staring, waiting and expecting me to move, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wasn’t done.

  “Buddy, the buzzer went off,” the taller, skinnier man said, tipping his chin to my chair.

  I cleared my throat and had a two-second stare-down with this guy. I could take his skinny ass any day of the week. But feeling like a jackass, I decided to move on. I was done talking with Gabby, which was what I had set out here to do, so I dug up my good graces and moved to my next seat.

  I went through the motions, which was tiring, but I did my best. At the end of the night, I had written down only one number I needed to match with today—number eleven.

  I tried to lock eyes with Gabby at the end of the evening, but she was too engrossed in her sister, so I followed Brad out.

  “Well, that was a waste of my time and energy.” He slung an arm around my shoulders. “You owe me one. Preferably dinner at Alinea—for me and Sonia ’cause we’re a package deal.” He released me, and when we were at the car, he asked, “So, how many women did you match with?”

  “I only matched with one person.”

  He snickered. “I bet I can take a good guess at who that is.”

  * * *

  The next few days trekked by slowly because I was waiting for something, a reply of some sort—more explicitly, a match. Over the weekend, I hadn’t gotten a reply. I’d never done this sort of thing before, so I assumed it took time.

  Since Brad hadn’t placed anyone down as a match, I didn’t know if others had gotten a response yet or if we were all just waiting for that single email.

  Monday morning, I went to work and attended my meetings, all the while checking my phone for an email—that little sign that she had picked me too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt like this … or if I’d ever felt like this in my adult life. Something was wrong with me.

  And by the end of the day, my self-esteem was in the gutter. Because the email never came. I had picked her as my only match, but she hadn’t picked me.

  Chapter 11

  Mason

  Mary pushed the cart through the grocery store, and I followed. I told the family that I’d be cooking dinner tonight, and Italian was my specialty.

  When she steered us to the baked goods aisle, I smiled. Sneaky little girl. I would have said something if my mind had not been preoccupied with a certain teacher.

  It’d been a week, and I was still thinking about Gabby. At one point, I swore I had a dream of her speaking rapid-fire Spanish. And a few days ago, I turned on the Spanish channel to some soap opera and added the subtitles to simply learn a few words.

  There were times I was tempted to go to the school and talk about my chaperone responsibilities for the dance as an excuse. Man, I was obsessed. What is it about this woman?

  Not a match.

  How could we share life goals and a kiss like that and not match? She’d told me I was a great kisser, I’d made her laugh, and even though we’d only shared five minutes, I’d thought we were compatible. I’d even lied and told her I was a dancer.

  Yeah, maybe we were both a little different in our organizational skills, but Sonia and Brad were opposite in every sense of the word, and they were about to start a family.

  “I think we should cook brownies tonight.” With a firmness in her voice, Mary placed the box in the cart without a second thought.

  “Mary”—I chuckled—“we already have watermelon and cantaloupe.”

  She peered up at me with her adorable blue doe eyes. “Brownies go with pasta.” She wrinkled her nose. “It does, Uncle Mason. It does!” She placed her hand on her hip in an I’m not budging way.

  I motioned for her to give me the box. “What’s the sugar on that?”

  “I already checked. It’s five grams for one serving.”

  I nodded, impressed. Instead of books, I’d had my nieces reading food labels as soon as they could read. To say I was a proud uncle was an understatement.

  “Fine,” I conceded, knowing m
y argument was a lost cause against her cuteness.

  She jumped twice, squeed, and then schooled her features. “Thanks.” Then, she proceeded to walk down the aisle. “Let’s put chocolate chips in the brownies.”

  “Mary …” I started to protest, and then I staggered to a stop mid-step because I heard laughter.

  Her laughter. I knew it. It was one of the many things that had had me thinking about her nonstop. The way her laughter was the sweetest thing that I’d ever heard. How just her laughter had my lips tipping up in response. Hearing it was like a burst of energy, a caffeine shot directly in my veins. And all I wanted to do was be the source of it.

  I pivoted but didn’t see her. I was sure that harmonious sound had come from Gabby, so I placed one hand on the cart and moved faster down the aisle. But it couldn’t be her, could it? Unless she lived around the area or she just stopped by the school because the grocery store was five minutes from the school.

  “Uncle Mason, my chocolate chips?”

  I about-faced, grabbed a bag, and chucked it in the cart, making my way to where Gabby was.

  “We should really do peanut butter chips and chocolate chips,” Mary added.

  But I zoned out, moving us faster down the aisle.

  “Uncle Mason, wait!”

  I shook my head. “Just grab it, Mary.”

  I ran to where Mary had stopped, picked up a couple bags of peanut butter chips, and returned to my cart.

  Her little arms crossed over her chest. “Those aren’t the ones I want.”

  “Mary, pick any one,” I grumbled. “Let’s go.”

  Her eyes widened, and she grabbed a bunch of stuff—I had no idea what—and placed it all in the cart. Then, we started speed-walking down the aisle.

  I slowed as I turned the corner, and … my heart stopped as everything else in my body woke up. Gabby was standing there, looking damn good in a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a messy bun. Who knew a woman could look so good, dressed down?

  She had her phone tucked against her ear, her back toward me, and her gaze on the chips. “I can’t believe you matched with him. Of all people. That guy.” She snorted, and the laugh went straight to my dick.