“What are you doing tonight?” Mia asked, a slight playful smile on her lips.
I ticked items off on my fingers. “Making signs, finalizing the game plan with the other schools, emails, grading, ideally sleeping…”
“Okay, I’m going to go home and get my poster stuff and a few other things. Then I’m coming to your place, and we’ll work on this together. Sound good?” She clapped her hands twice, and I got a glimpse of Mia’s peppy, no-bullshit coach alter ego.
She brushed her fingers over my cheek and darted out of my classroom. As the sound of her boots clattering down the hall faded, I realized bright excitement had all but replaced my headache.
6
Mia
Kicking my car door shut behind me, I struggled to control my straining dog and balance two pizza boxes on my coat-covered forearm. The street was dark and quiet, lined with neat brick rowhomes. Window boxes filled with chrysanthemums, ornamental kale, and tiny pumpkins adorned most of the facades. The air smelled like woodsmoke and the silty cool river. It reminded me of home.
When Ruth had texted me her address, I simply plugged it into my GPS, noted she lived close to both the river and one of my favorite breweries, and followed the robot voice to my destination. Now, as Ruth stood in a pool of golden porch light, Frida waggling beside her, I worked to hide my surprise. I knew Ruth was older and probably had an actual home, unlike the Ikea-decorated apartment I shared with Ayanna. I just didn’t know it would look so…classy. The front door was huge and painted a bright shade of blue. On the wide brick stoop, Ruth had arranged a variety of colorful gourds and fall flowers in terra cotta pots. Gary strained toward Frida, whining, and Ruth hurried down the steps to help me with my bags.
“Wow, you really are queer, huh? Second date and you’re already moving in.” Ruth kissed my temple and ushered me inside.
“Shut up. I brought you dinner.” I plunked down my shoulder bag and glanced around. The place was even lovelier inside. High ceilings, open floor plan, exposed brick walls, the kind of wide hardwood floors that always reminded me of my Memaw’s house. And Ruth’s décor, unlike her wardrobe of neutrals, was surprisingly colorful. Bright rugs on the floors and big modern paintings on the walls. And books everywhere: piled on the coffee table, neatly organized on white shelves in the living room, scattered across the kitchen table. “Actually”—I turned to Ruth who was petting both dogs at once—“I am moving in. This place is gorgeous.”
A dusky blush colored Ruth’s defined cheekbones. “Thanks. My parents bought the place in the eighties. They sold it to me a couple years ago when they retired and moved to fucking Hawaii. My brother lives in Philly and my sister moved into one of those awful bougie apartment complexes in South Side.” She laughed and her eyes crinkled up at the corners so adorably that I couldn’t help but lean forward and brush a kiss over her lips.
I followed Ruth into the cozy kitchen. Family photos, cards from students, and scrawled to-do lists dotted the fridge. Steam poured from a kettle on the stove, and Ruth hurried to switch off the flame.
“Thanks for letting me bring Gary.” Frida had decided the commotion wasn’t worth her time and curled up in front of the fireplace. Gary, confused that he wasn’t the center of attention, was play-bowing in front of her and wagging his tail so hard he was sure to break something.
“Of course.” Ruth lifted the lid of one of the pizza boxes. “Thank you for bringing pizza. Antonio’s is my favorite. Sorry to see it’s french fry-free, though.” She chuckled.
Ruth had changed out of her work clothes into a navy Henley and a pair of light gray jeans. I laughed to myself. She totally seemed like the kind of person to relax around the house in jeans. If I had to guess, she probably didn’t even own a pair of sweatpants. Her hair looked softer than usual, like maybe she hadn’t put any product in it, and the glossy dark strands fell into her eyes as she bent to push aside a pile of poster boards and a stack of books on the table. She was barefoot, her toenails painted a bright sparkly blue. Seeing Ruth at home, relaxed, flooded me with tenderness for her. I slid my arms around her from behind, hugging her tight and rubbing my cheek over the short, soft hair at the nape of her neck.
“Hey,” Ruth said through a laugh. She turned and wrapped me into another perfectly tight hug. We stood together, entwined, for a long moment. Heat pulsed between us, grew with every heartbeat. A need to kiss Ruth, to feel her skin on mine, to do something with the tingling between my legs built in me slowly until I couldn’t contain it any longer.
“Can I kiss you again? Please?” The words came out needier than I’d hoped.
“Of course. Anytime.” Ruth sifted her fingers through my hair.
I nodded, feeling thick and sluggish with arousal.
We kissed frantically, breath mingling, hands sliding over each other’s bodies. Ruth was surprisingly strong, easily lifting me onto the kitchen table. I squeezed her torso with my thighs and giggled against her lips.
“Quite the slick move there, Ms. Chan.”
“Cut it out and let me be sexy.” Ruth bit my neck gently and any desire to banter evaporated. A delicious ache pulsed through me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this turned on from nothing more than making out. Cupping Ruth’s face, I brought her mouth back to mine and kissed her roughly, tongue and teeth and moaning. Liquid heat pooled in my core, and I shifted closer to her, wanting friction.
Then something cold and wet brushed the exposed strip of skin between my sock and jeans. My eyes shot open. Gary nosed at my ankle again, tail whirling. Ruth pulled away, pressed another swift kiss to the corner of my mouth, and tugged me down off the table.
“Gary…” I groaned. “Go lay down.”
My dog tilted his head and nuzzled against my dangling hand. Even if he had just intruded on one of the hottest moments of my life, I gave him a quick scratch behind the ears.
“We can go to my room if you want.” Gone was the confident, lift-me-onto-the-table-and-drive-me-wild-with-desire Ruth. She tousled her hair and offered me a shy smile. “No expectations or anything. It might be a little more comfortable.” She glanced down at my dopey excuse for a dog. “And private.”
“Yes, please.” I laced our fingers together. “And if you’re into it, I would really love to fuck you.”
It was satisfying to see Ruth’s defined jaw actually drop. I was getting the sense she liked when I was forward. When I took charge. “Mia!” She gasped. “What have you done with my prim and proper friend?”
“Girlfriend?” I asked, immediately mortified at voicing the thought aloud as I followed Ruth up the stairs to her room.
She turned, glancing down at me, eyes soft. My embarrassment ebbed away as quickly as it rushed in. Of course we were on the same page. “You’re goddamn perfect, you know that?”
As much as I wanted to investigate the giant tower of books on Ruth’s nightstand and take a moment to appreciate how put together her bedroom was, I was too focused on getting us both naked. The slight awkwardness of tugging Ruth’s Henley over her head while I straddled her narrow hips was well worth it. The sight of her toned muscle, golden skin, and gray-and-navy patterned sports bra alone made my heart race like I’d just run ten laps around the soccer field. As I pulled my own sweater off, I was grateful I’d had the foresight to match my white lace bralette with the one pair of sheer white panties I’d found in my underwear drawer. Ruth swallowed audibly as I shed my jeans.
Draping myself on her, I delighted in the brush of soft skin against mine. Grinding against Ruth like this, I knew I could make myself come fast if I wanted to. I was already teetering on the edge, my whole body full-up with round, buzzing pleasure. Every inch of Ruth was warm and smooth, and I wanted it all. I kissed down her neck to her shoulders, pausing at the elastic band of her bra.
“Can I take this off?” I breathed, glancing up at Ruth’s face. Her eyes were closed, head thrown back.
“Yes. Fuck. Yes.”
Her breath came fast as I lic
ked my way down her neck to her breasts, dragging the flat of my tongue over her small, dark nipple. She gasped and arched. I licked and sucked until we were both lost in each other’s soft moans and cries for more. Absently I wondered if I could bring her over the edge this way, watch her let go. But the need to taste her, to slide my fingers into her, pushed me back onto my heels, kneeling on the bed.
Ruth’s moan shifted into a hitched breath, and her eyes fluttered open. “Everything okay?” Her voice was raw, low. It made me want her even more.
I nodded and grinned as I slid my fingertips down her flat stomach to the waistband of her briefs. Ruth’s eyes followed my every movement, then drifted closed as she sank back down into the pillow. “Good?” I asked, touching her gently through the thin damp fabric of her underwear. She nodded and bucked into my touch, lifting her hips off the bed so I could push her underwear down.
I moved my fingers lower, through her soft pubic hair, and slid over her clit and into warm wetness. She tightened around me and a soft groan rumbled through her. I eased myself down next to her, clumsily trying to get the angle right as I slid in and out, spreading her wetness, relishing in the slick heat. Pressing my thighs together, I could feel how wet I was too, how desperate for the slightest touch. But I needed to feel Ruth come, make her writhe and cry out and fall apart.
“Mia,” Ruth sighed and rolled her hips.
“Yeah?” I bent to kiss her, rubbing over her clit at the same time.
“Please. I want…” She gasped as I rubbed her in tight circles.
“What?” Another kiss, this one lingering and hungry. “You want me inside you again? My mouth?”
“Yes. That. Both.” Her whole body was taut, coiled with pleasure, and I knew she was close.
I moved down Ruth’s body, kissing and nipping all the way. When my tongue found her clit, Ruth arched against me and fisted her hands into the soft linen comforter. I licked into her avidly, moaning as she tightened and writhed on the bed. The first time I’d gone down on a girl, a fumbling post-game party hookup, I’d realized it was without a doubt my favorite sex act. The feeling of control, of giving such intense pleasure…it was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Now, Ruth’s steady murmurs of oh my god yes and the sweet tang of her desire made my whole body clench.
I slid a finger back into her heat. She cried out. When I added another, sucking gently on her clit at the same time, she clenched hard around me, muscles pulsing as a rush of liquid heat surged around my fingers. I could feel her shaking as she came down from her orgasm.
“Holy shit,” Ruth panted. She sat up, leaning forward to kiss me. “You’re really good at that.”
I grinned against her lips. “Want me to do it again?”
“Well, yes.” Ruth reached around my back, deftly unclasping my bra. The cool air of her bedroom brought my already hard nipples to full attention. Then Ruth’s hands were on me, palming my breasts and electric heat flashed through my body. “But first I’d really like to return the favor.”
Ruth looked up from stenciling bubble letters reading Negotiation Not Dictation! onto a poster board, her face largely obscured by a thick layer of clay face mask. After a veritable sex marathon, we’d crept downstairs to refuel with cold pizza and the weird dairy-free chocolate ice cream Ruth kept in her freezer. When the post-orgasm haze dissipated, we realized we’d ignored all of our pre-protest duties. So now it was almost midnight, and we were flying through the checklist Ruth had scrawled on a sheet of notebook paper. Our water bottles were filled, snacks packed, emails answered. All we had to do was stop getting distracted every time we touched and focus on designing catchy protest signs. The face masks helped keep us on track. It was pretty hard to make out while your face was coated in green mud.
“Do you think this should say ‘Educators for Justice’ or ‘Teachers for Equitable Schools’?” I contemplated the neon-green piece of cardboard.
“Let’s do one of each and call it a night.” Ruth yawned. She was clearly relaxed, the tension compressing her shoulders this afternoon all but gone. “You can stay over if you want. I’m assuming a change of clothes was in the arsenal of bags you brought over here.” She had scrubbed off the mask, her skin looking even more luminous than usual. Even if she had been running on less than five hours of sleep a night, she still looked perfect to me.
“Ha-ha. It was poster stuff.” I was glad I still had my face mask on to hide the blush burning on my cheeks. “But I, um, did bring clothes for tomorrow. Just in case.”
7
Ruth
I awoke in the silent dark. The hazy golden wash of the streetlight spilled through the gap in my curtains. Next to me, Mia shifted in her sleep. I wanted to kiss her hair, to trace my fingertips over the fine lines of her jaw. The braid she’d pulled her hair into before we’d gone to bed was mostly loose, thanks to one final round of sex before we both succumbed to exhaustion. She was softer in her sleep, the usual fire shimmering under her skin lowered to a gentle glow. I rubbed my hand over my face. Clearly I was sleep-deprived, coming up with the kind of metaphors I might suggest my students axe from their own writing.
I was exhausted. Coffee was in order. Coffee and a cold shower. I pushed down the covers, ready to retreat to the kitchen in an attempt to stop being such a sap, when Mia stirred again next to me. Her eyes fluttered open as she inhaled deeply through her nose.
“Hi.” Her voice was sleep-rough, and any thoughts of leaving bed promptly vanished. “Crap. What time is it? Did we forget the alarm?” Mia sat bolt upright and scrambled for her phone.
“No. Go back to sleep if you want. It’s not even five yet. I just happened to wake up.” Because I’m panicking about the strike and worried that you aren’t as gone over this relationship as I am.
Mia wrapped her arms around me and tapped her forehead against my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s going to work out. The strike. And this.” She pressed a feather-soft kiss to my neck.
A tiny shiver fizzed up her body as I slipped my hand under her T-shirt. Her skin was butter soft. Mia’s murmured encouragement was cut short, however, by Gary’s huge paws landing on the edge of my bed. He huffed at us then hopped down, waiting by the door with a distinct air of impatience. Conversely, Frida was still sprawled on her back in the dog bed, legs twitching in the air.
“All right, you monster. Let’s wake up Princess Frida and go for a walk.” Mia swung her legs over the side of the bed.
By the time Mia returned, apple-cheeked and windblown from walking the dogs, I had made coffee I was too nauseated to touch, showered in a daze, and begun to fret over the prepared statements I’d composed for angry parents and administrators. I kept refreshing both my school and personal email accounts, sure I was about to receive an enraged message from either Christensen or the superintendent. There was no way this was going to work. I was going to get fired.
“Should we head out?” Mia was bundled up in her forest-green peacoat, giant leather bag slung over her shoulder. “I can bring the signs in my car.”
I glanced at the electric-green numbers on my stove clock. Shit. How was it already six thirty? Feeling like I might start hyperventilating if I uttered a single word, I nodded and shrugged on my coat.
It was still dark when we got to school, the sky a deep indigo. Immediately I spotted a cluster of teachers on the front stairs, armed with signs, folding chairs, and thermoses. Gloria and Joey, huddled together and talking seriously, waved as Mia and I approached. My body felt surreal and hollow. I was here but I wasn’t going to teach. This whole thing might blow up in our faces, might make things worse for our students.
“Hey.” Mia touched her gloved finger to my bare knuckles, brushing over them lightly. The cord of panic squeezing my body loosened a bit. “This is going to be great. We’re doing the right thing. I promise.” She sounded so sure.
“How do you know?” I was the veteran teacher. The union representative. The one everyone thought was supposed to have all the answers. Why, then
, was Mia the one with all the faith in our cause?
Mia shrugged and winked at me. “It’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. Now let’s do this, Ms. Chan.”
I glanced at my watch. It was almost the end of second period. I should have been leading the inquiry discussion on symbolism in Romeo and Juliet. Okay, actually I should have been milling around the room, hoping students worked on their mindless seat work. Instead, I was standing in the school courtyard with twenty-three other teachers, hoping the biting wind wouldn’t tear my poster in half. So far, the strike had been anticlimactic. It seemed Christensen was determined to ignore us, as if he didn’t acknowledge our concerns, they might simply disappear. A few kids had asked us what we were doing as they filtered into the building. So far, the biggest event had been a testy phone call from the head of our union.
Faintly, from inside the building, I heard the bell. I wondered what my kids had done for the last forty minutes. Who had stepped in? Did they even notice more than half the teachers were absent?
“Holy shit,” Joey said next to me, his voice bubbling with laughter.
Tearing my eyes away from the pile of dry leaves I’d been staring at, I followed his gaze. Students were pouring out of the front doors, many of them holding signs and chanting. Next to me, Mia whooped and waved at a group of three kids brandishing pieces of notebook paper scrawled with Ms. Davis Rules! and Let our teachers teach!
I grinned. One of the students was none other than Matt Johnson, his eyes glowing with mischief and mirth. In addition to the throng of teenagers, a few more teachers had slipped out of the building, joining the cause. Better late than never.
“You might get in trouble for this,” I told Matt, unable to stifle my chuckle. It was great that so many teachers across the district were participating. But knowing the students were on our side, that we were all in this together, banished my last shred of doubt.
Rogue Ever After (The Rogue Series Book 7) Page 15
