by Marie Force
He was a perfect gentleman. He respected my wishes and my feelings by keeping his distance all evening. So why am I lying awake wishing he hadn’t been such a gentleman? What might it have been like to kiss him? The thought of it makes my heart beat fast and my body tingle in ways it has never tingled before.
After tossing and turning for hours, I wake with a start when Leah comes home from work. It’s after three in the morning.
“Oh my God,” she says from my doorway. “What are you doing here?”
Groggy and out of sorts from being woken so suddenly, I rub my eyes as Fluff gives off a low growl. She hates being disturbed. “Um, I live here?”
“Only you would go out with Flynn Fucking Godfrey and come home to sleep in your own bed.”
“I don’t know why this surprises you. I told you I wasn’t going to sleep with him.”
“And I told you you’re an idiot.”
“Go away. I was sleeping.”
“Well, now you’re not.” She comes in and flops down on the other side of my queen-size bed. “Tell me every single thing that happened and leave nothing out.”
“It’s three o’clock in the morning, Leah!”
“So what? You got somewhere to be tomorrow?”
As Fluff continues to growl at Leah, I stroke her ears, which calms her. I resign myself to dealing with Leah, who shows no sign of going away. I tell her about my night with Flynn, from the moment he picked me up until the moment he brought me home.
“He seriously asked you to go to the Golden Globes with him?” Her voice is so high-pitched that Fluff whimpers from the frequency.
“Yes,” I say, laughing at her reaction. “He did.”
“What did you say?”
“We left it open-ended for the moment. I said I’d think about it.”
Groaning, Leah falls to the bed and covers her face with one of my pillows. Then she lets out a scream that makes me jolt and Fluff bark. “You are freaking insane, Natalie. Insane!”
“Why does being cautious and reasonable make me insane?”
“Because the hottest man in the world asked you to go to one of the biggest events in Hollywood, and you said you have to think about it? What’s there to think about?”
“To start with, do I want to use one of my precious personal days to spend three days with a man I barely know?”
“Yes, you do want to use one of your precious personal days—what better use will you ever have for them? And it’s three days with Flynn Freaking Godfrey!”
“Will you please stop screaming before the neighbors call the cops?”
“If I told the neighbors Flynn Godfrey asked you to the Golden Globes and you told him you have to think about it, they’d call the cops on you, not me.”
“You’re being ridiculous! I just met him. How do I know if I want to spend three days in California with him?”
“I honestly don’t know what to do with you, Natalie.” Leah looks at me with what appears to be genuine concern. “I know there’s shit in your past that you don’t talk about, and I respect that. It’s just… If you don’t do this, if you don’t go with him and have this amazing adventure, you’ll always regret it.”
“I can’t jump in with both feet the way you do. I have to take my time and think about it. That’s just the way I’m wired. I’m sorry if that annoys you.”
“It doesn’t annoy me. Most of the time. But this is Flynn Godfrey. Flynn Godfrey!”
I can’t help but laugh at the faces she’s making to go along with her pleading tone. “Yes, I know his name.”
“Every single woman in America would like to be you right now. Hell, most of the married ones would like to be you, too. You know that, don’t you?”
“I’m aware that women find him appealing, yes.”
Leah snorts with laughter. “Appealing. You crack me up! He’s fucking sexy as all hell, and I’d do him in a New York minute, as would most women. I bet most men would, too.”
I take my pillow and stuff it into her face, hoping to shut her up.
She pushes it aside and throws it back at me. “You have to go.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Yes! You do!”
“No! I don’t.”
She moans as if she’s in severe pain. “If you don’t go, can I?”
“Shut up, Leah! Go away and let me sleep, will you?”
“When are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know.”
“You let him get away without making plans for another date? What am I going to do with you?”
“Go away and let me sleep?”
“Fine, but we’re going to continue this conversation tomorrow, and you are going to LA if I have to take you there myself.”
“Good to know. Nighty night.”
She makes a big dramatic production of getting up and out of my bed. At the doorway, she pauses and then turns to me, her face serious. “I’d hate to see you have regrets, Nat. Something like this… It’s right out of a fairy tale. I don’t know what happened to you, but whatever it was… You have a right to be happy just like everyone else.”
“Thanks for caring, Leah.” I mean that sincerely. She’s been an incredible friend to me in the short time I’ve known her. And she makes me laugh even though she can be a pain in the ass.
“I do care. I really do.”
“Likewise. Now go to bed.”
I hear her in the kitchen, fixing a late-night snack that she takes to her room, closing the door.
In the quiet that follows, I have to admit that Leah is probably right. I’m crazy not to jump at the chance to have my very own Cinderella moment with an amazing, handsome, sexy man who makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. But in the back of my mind, always, are the memories of another man who took everything from me long before I should’ve had to face such a horror. I’ve spent a long time—years—putting the pieces back together without ever letting another man get close to me.
Until tonight. Until Flynn Godfrey.
And now he’s offering me things right out of a fairy tale while making me laugh and feel for the first time in what seems like forever. I just wish I had Leah’s daring and her courage. What I wouldn’t give for even a small bit of her ballsy approach to life and men and dating and sex.
Hoping I’ll fall back to sleep, I turn on my side, snuggle up to Fluff, who’s already snoring like a buzz saw. I let my mind wander again through the memories of my hours with Flynn, smiling as I drift peacefully before dropping off into sleep.
By Tuesday, I’m convinced the date with Flynn was a figment of my overactive imagination, not the magical fairy tale I turned it into with more than a little help from Leah. She blabbed the whole thing in the teachers’ room at our school, making me the center of attention all day Monday. She has no way to know how much I hate that kind of attention, so I kept a smile on my face, nodded in all the right places and answered all their foolish questions about what he is really like. It occurred to me late Monday afternoon that they all think I slept with him. Of course I did.
The school buzzes with my Flynn Godfrey news until noon on Tuesday when Mrs. Heffernan’s husband is caught driving drunk in New Jersey with a woman who isn’t his wife in the passenger seat. That news takes precedence over my brief flirtation with Hollywood, which is over now as far as I’m concerned.
Two days without a word from him sends a rather straightforward message.
A few minutes before dismissal on Tuesday, one of my favorite students, Logan Gifford, comes up to my desk.
“Miss Bryant?” He’s always so polite and solemn, and I adore him. His mother is fighting an awful battle with breast cancer, and the whole school has rallied around their family with fundraisers and meal deliveries and anything else we can do for them. I make sure to hug Logan at least once a day to let him know I care.
“What’s up, Logan?”
He glances over his shoulder to make sure none of his friends are listening to our convers
ation, but they are taking full advantage of the ten minutes I give them at the end of every day to talk freely to each other. “I was wondering…” His dark hair falls over his forehead, and he has a slight lisp thanks to his missing front teeth. He’s utterly adorable.
“What were you wondering about, honey?”
“When we went to art class, I heard Mrs. Drake say that you met that movie star, Flynn Goffy.”
“Flynn Godfrey. Yes, I did.”
After another glance over his shoulder, Logan says, “He’s my mom’s favorite. She loves him and all his movies. I was just wondering if he could come over to my house to see her.”
I feel as if all the air has been sucked from my lungs—for two reasons. First, what Logan is asking would require me to reach out to Flynn, and I have no plans to do that—ever. And second, how sweet is he to think of his mom this way? It nearly brings me to tears. Then the bell rings, and all hell breaks loose as the kids bound for the door.
“I’ll try,” I say to Logan, drawing a small smile from him.
“Thanks, Miss Bryant.” He gives me an impulsive little hug before he too bolts from the room.
I grab my coat and follow behind my class, making sure each of them gets to where they’re supposed to be before heading back to my classroom to straighten up. I clean the surfaces with disinfectant wipes, prepare my lesson plans for tomorrow and correct the stack of papers the children completed that day.
As I work, Logan’s request weighs heavily on my mind. The cute little guy has been so stoic and brave as his mother wages war with cancer. Single mom Aileen Gifford is an incredible person, so upbeat and positive despite a rather grim prognosis. I like her as much as I like her son, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them. I’ve even given Aileen my number and offered to stay with Logan and his younger sister if she ever needs me. I haven’t told Leah or any of my other colleagues how involved I’ve gotten with their family, but you’d have to be awfully coldhearted not to be drawn in by their plight.
The thought of being able to brighten her world for a brief moment with one simple phone call or text is tempting, to say the least. I pick up my phone from the desktop, open the text screen and scroll back to the one text he sent me Saturday when he was still looking forward to seeing me again.
I stare at the screen for a long time. My insides are twisted up in knots. All day Sunday, I waited to hear from him. I was sure I would hear from him after the evening we spent together. Leah pestered me endlessly, asking if he’d called. After the twentieth time, I snapped at her, and she stopped asking. Then Sunday became Monday, and Monday became Tuesday. I might be new to dating and men, but I recognize a blow-off when I see one.
Still… I can’t get Logan’s little face out of my mind or the way he screwed up the courage to ask me to set this up for his mother. Finding my own courage, I blow out a deep breath and begin to type.
So I know the mother of the dog who bit you and made you bleed has no right to ask for a huge, enormous, massively inconvenient favor… However, there’s this adorable kid in my class whose mother has breast cancer. You won’t believe who her favorite movie star is…
I read the text at least a hundred times, debating, dithering and actively sweating before I close my eyes, take another deep breath, open my eyes and press send. Then I put down the phone and dive into the stack of correcting so I won’t be tempted to stare at the phone until he replies—or until he doesn’t.
Did I strike the right tone between friendly and witty and noncommittal? Did I give him an easy way out if he can’t do it? No! I didn’t. I groan and drop my head into my hands. I’m agonizing over what he must be thinking when my phone chimes with a text.
I nearly drop it on the floor in my haste to handle it with the aforementioned sweaty hands.
Three words: When and where?
“Holy crap,” I whisper. In that moment of uncertainty, I realize I hadn’t expected him to reply, which is why I’m woefully unprepared to answer his question.
I write back with hands that are now trembling as well as sweaty. Possibly tomorrow after school if you are available then? Could I let you know?
I hold my breath until he writes back. Sure, no problem. I’m available any time tomorrow.
Thank you so much for this. I’ll get back to you.
Sounds good.
I’m left with more questions than I had before, if that’s possible. If he’s available all day tomorrow and has time to text with me today, why haven’t I heard from him since Saturday? Why didn’t he say anything about getting together again during our exchange of texts? I know I didn’t dream the crackle of attraction that simmered between us during both our encounters on Saturday.
“Face the facts,” I say out loud, “when you tell a guy there’s no chance of sex without a wedding ring, he’s hardly going to be planning the second date.”
The thought deflates and disappoints me. Leah is right—I’m my own worst enemy. Though my heart is heavy in regard to my near miss with Flynn, I pick up the phone again and dial Aileen’s cell number, hoping I’m not waking or otherwise disturbing her.
“Hello?” Her voice is strong, and I’m relieved.
“Hi there, Aileen. It’s Natalie.” We’ve been on a first-name basis since parent-teacher conferences when we chatted like long-lost girlfriends, rather than a parent and teacher. Perhaps I have a ways to go in mastering the professional distance most teachers put between themselves and the parents of their students, but I genuinely like Aileen.
“Hey, Natalie. How’s it going? Is everything okay with Logan?”
“He’s doing great. And he’s always so polite.”
“I love to hear that. He knows better than to misbehave.”
“I was wondering if you’ll be home tomorrow after school. I’d like to stop by for a quick visit if that’s convenient for you. I have some new books I thought you and the kids would enjoy, and I wanted to drop them off.”
“I’d love to see you. It’s very nice of you to think of us.”
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
“Look forward to it.”
I end the call and switch over to the text screen. Tomorrow works for her. Would you mind meeting me outside my school around 3:30? I include the address and set the time for more than half an hour after school ends in the hope that most of my colleagues will be long gone by then. I can only hope.
His reply arrives less than a minute later. No problem. I’ll be there.
Thanks. See you then.
Now if someone could tell me how I’m supposed to function between now and then, I’d really appreciate it.
The next twenty-four hours feel like a week rather than a single day. I’m out of sorts, nervous, anxious, eager… In short, I’m a hot mess, and my kids take their cues from me. It’s a long, trying day for all of us. I catch a moment with Logan and tell him the plan for later. His eyes light up with a kind of unfettered glee that I’ve never seen on him before. No matter what this might be costing me personally, I’d do it again—a thousand times over—to witness his joyful response.
“Thank you so much,” he whispers.
“You’re welcome.” I squeeze his shoulder and send him to the coatroom to get his lunchbox. His smile never dims all afternoon, and his joy is contagious. By the time the bell rings, I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust from both the excitement of surprising Aileen and from knowing I’m going to see Flynn again.
I wink and wave to Logan as he heads out. “See you soon.”
His smile is so wide, I worry about his face breaking as he scurries out of the room. I follow the kids, as I always do, to watch them get on buses or be signed out by the parents, grandparents and guardians who pick them up.
I spend the next thirty minutes cleaning my classroom and preparing for tomorrow, while trying not to think about what’s about to happen. At exactly three thirty, I run a brush through my hair, apply lip gloss and put on my red wool coat that leaves only
a small portion of my tights uncovered between the coat and knee-high leather boots. I’ll confess to having dressed for him today, not that it will matter. After he does this enormous favor for me, I don’t expect to ever see him again. I tell myself I’m fine with that.
Slinging my satchel filled with work I’ll do at home later over my shoulder, I head out of school, nodding to a few of my colleagues who I encounter in the hallway. I haven’t heard a word about Flynn all day today thanks to the unfolding scandal involving Mrs. Heffernan’s husband that has everyone’s attention. While I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, she was nasty to me about Fluff, so there’s no love lost between us.
The cold air hits me like a slap to the face as I emerge from the building and head down the stone steps, looking around for him as I go but careful not to trip over my own feet. I stop short when I see him, across the street, arms crossed as he leans against the red motorcycle I saw the other night in his garage.
He’s wearing a black leather jacket and well-faded jeans. His face is red from the cold and his hair mussed, maybe from the helmet that’s propped on the seat next to him. He’s stunningly gorgeous, and I can’t do anything but stare at him for what feels like five minutes, though it’s probably much less than that. At least I hope so.
He stares right back, his expression unreadable as I finally snap out of it and cross the street to where he’s parked.
“Hi.” Wow, Natalie… Way to bowl him over with your opening volley.
“Hi there. You look beautiful as always.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”
He offers a small smile that’s tinged with sadness that wasn’t there Saturday night. It makes me desperate to know what he’s thinking and why he didn’t call me. I was so sure he would.
“It’s really nice of you to do this for someone you don’t even know.”
His intense gaze devours me. “I’m doing it for someone I know.”
His meaning isn’t lost on me, and if I wasn’t so breathless from being near him, I might’ve acknowledged it.
