by Caisey Quinn
“A good girl. Yes, I know. Please don’t say it again. Ever.”
My confusion must’ve shown on my face.
He leaned even closer, close enough for me to see the time on his shiny silver watch and smell his aftershave. He didn’t smell like a boy. Like the ones who slathered themselves in sports-themed body washes and axe body spray. He smelled like a man. Like expensive leather. Sharp and bold and male. Enticing and alluring, like a strong drink that tasted so good I could become dangerously intoxicated on it quickly, not noticing how much I’d imbibed until it was too late and I was completely trashed.
When he spoke, his voice was a hypnotic whisper. “When you say you’re a good girl, one that was a very bad girl to me two weeks ago and again this morning, I want to bend you over my desk, lift that tight skirt of yours, and spank you. Then I want to sit you on my lap and make you tell me what a good girl you’re going to be from now on.”
My brain and ovaries got the message at the same time.
Both imploded on impact.
I wanted to say something but my ability for language was wiped out with the rest of me.
“There’s something about you. Something different. It makes me want to protect you and corrupt you all at once.” He let his head fall back and focused on the ceiling. “I should probably just quit right now before I get fired. Invest in some crayons for my future students.”
He rubbed his temples as I struggled to sting words together. He’d wanted to make a difference. He was making a difference to me already. I’d never felt as alive as I did in his presence. Even when I was angry, it was as if he’d awoken something inside me. Some version of myself that was strong and capable and unafraid.
That stood up for me. That took no shit.
“Don’t. It’s okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my age or that I was still in high school. There wasn’t really a good time.”
“I get that. I didn’t exactly ask to see your I.D.”
“Look, no one has to know about what happened. Well, except Drew knows. But trust me, he’s good with secrets,” I reassured him. “When the principle comes in, we’ll tell him I had a rough morning at home and took it out on you. You had first day jitters and were kind of a dick to me. We both messed up. Call it even?”
I reached out to shake his hand. He looked at it like a viper about to strike.
“You sure? What I just said to you, just now, as your teacher, I should’ve kept that to myself.”
The liquid heat spreading through me pulsed faster. “I’m glad you didn’t. I needed to know I wasn’t the only one who felt, whatever it is, this is.”
He shook my hand and it was like touching the hot stove and realizing I craved the pain and wanted more. I missed the connection, feeling bereft when he let go.
“So what do we do now?”
A dozen answers flitted through my mind, none of them appropriate to speak out loud. So I said recalled Drew’s advice.
“We behave like adults, Mr. Singleton. We put our past behind us, pretend we’ve never met before, and move on.”
His brow creased. “You really think we can do that?”
The door opened and Principal Stewart nodded to us before turning back to say something to his secretary.
“I think we damn well better try. For both our sakes,” I said only loud enough for him to hear.
Aiden didn’t have time to respond before Principal Stewart sat before us. He took his sweet time getting comfortable in his massive leather chair.
“So I hear there was an incident in homeroom this morning,” he said while adjusting his wire-framed glasses. “And then Emersyn, you checked out and back in.” He shuffled the folders on his desk. “What I’m wondering, Mr. Singleton, is why you didn’t fill out a discipline referral form.”
Aiden sat up straight in his chair and tilted his head to one side. “I’m not sure I’m clear on what you’re referring to Principal Stewart.”
Omar Stewart was a large imposing black man with a shiny bald head. He’d played college basketball in his younger days as he frequently mentioned during assemblies and now had a beautiful wife and three sons around my age. He was intelligent, intimidating, and had this wise old owl demeanor that made me wonder what the hell Aiden was thinking. Of course he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t that big of a school. Half the town probably knew by now.
“According to several teachers, students are reporting that Miss. Tyler used profanity in your classroom this morning. Directed at you specifically.”
Aiden must’ve missed his calling as an actor because he looked so surprised I almost believed him. He glanced at me slowly, then turned his bemused attention back to Principal Stewart.
“There must be some misunderstanding. Miss Tyler was running late this morning and informed me that she wasn’t feeling quite herself. I told her to do what she needed to do. All that was on the agenda this morning was passing out schedules, lockers, and the syllabus, all of which she obtained before leaving. If she used any profanity, it must’ve been under her breath.”
Principal Stewart turned his unwavering gaze to me. “Emersyn.” His use of my name didn’t have quite the effect on me that hearing Aiden use it did. “Can you tell me what you said in class this morning that has so many students carrying on about it?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it. My hands were shaking so I clasped them together in my lap.
Think. Breathe.
I shrugged, trying my best to channel some of Aiden’s Oscar-worthy mystification about the whole episode. “I’m afraid I can’t recall, sir. I actually had a terrible morning. My mother wasn’t feeling well, my little brother forgot his lunch, and I was dealing with a lot. I wasn’t quite myself, as I told Mr. Singleton, and did excuse myself from class. But I don’t recall what I said verbatim.”
Lord, please don’t strike me down for lying.
Aiden came to my rescue before I got squirmy in my seat. “She has already apologized to me for being uncharacteristically impolite as well as tardy. I have accepted and we’ve both moved on from the incident. As far as what other students might be saying, I can’t corroborate gossip of any profanity being used.”
“Yes, it seems the story has been blown out of proportion.” Principal Stewart looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he stopped and paused for a moment. “Emersyn, do you need a pass back to class?”
I shook my head. “It’s my lunch period, sir.”
He gave a quick nod. “You may return to lunch now. In the future, please try to be on time. I do hope your mother is feeling better.”
“Thank you, sir.” I stood and headed toward the door. Aiden stood as well.
“Aiden,” Principal Stewart said evenly. “Hang tight just a moment. I’d like to speak with you privately.”
My heart thudded heavily against my ribs.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’d gotten him in trouble.
I waited outside the office until he exited, wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt. The door clicked and I peeked around the corner. He was smiling and shaking hands with the principal as he left. I took that as a good sign.
I stepped out from the stairwell as he headed toward his classroom.
He startled visibly when we came face to face. “Jesus, Emersyn.”
“Sorry. I just wanted to thank you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. Principal Stewart just told me your mom has Lupus. I’m sorry. I remembered you said she was ill but I didn’t know.” He reached out as if he was going to touch me, then thought better of it and took a step backward. “Just makes my behavior this morning all that more inexcusable.”
“Well, thank you. But I don’t want your pity. Or anyone else’s. What you did in there, you didn’t have to do that. You could’ve let me hang for how I behaved.”
He eyed me for a moment. “Technically, I could say the same. We all make mistakes.”
“Seems I’m making a lot of them lately.”
&n
bsp; His head titled to the side. “You’re allowed. You’re seventeen. No better time to make them.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “Me on the other hand, I could probably face jail time for what we did. At the very least I’d lose my teaching license. Typically though, mistakes aren’t so bad, so long as you learn from them.”
“I’ll be eighteen in three weeks,” I informed him. “In my world, a mistake can mean the difference between a future or a funeral. A successful career or a life struggling as a single unwed mother.”
He was quiet, thoughtful. Then he smirked. “Seems we live in a similar world after all.” He leaned closer as if telling me a secret. “But you know what I’ve learned?”
I waited for him to tell me. He didn’t. I waved my hand. “Please. Enlighten me with your twenty-four years’ worth of wisdom.”
He lifted one corner of his mouth into a sexy smirk. “You don’t have to take life so seriously all of the time. None of us are getting out alive anyway.”
3
Aiden
Her clothes were too small.
That’s what I kept noticing about Emersyn. Not in a seductive way, like she was trying to be sexy. More like she’d outgrown them.
Today she wore black cutoff shorts and a gray V-neck T- shirt. Her full cleavage was visible and if she leaned over too far, me and every other man lusting after her would get a full shot of her ass. Thankfully, during first period, Drew handed her a black and white checkered flannel to wrap around her waist.
I made a mental note to figure out how to take her shopping or anonymously buy her some clothes that fit.
I sure as hell couldn’t mention that to her at school. My classroom was already becoming a jungle, testosterone and female pheromones running rampant. A few of the girls had taken to constantly vying for my attention. It was only a matter of time before they noticed where my eyes always seemed to be.
At the end of the week, I almost blew my cover while filling in for an art teacher on my off period.
Lisa Cope had a parent meeting so I ended up with her second period class. There was this one sculpture at the front of the room, an intricate conch shell whose insides resembled female genitalia. Not in an overt way, in a soft, alluring way that seemed familiar somehow. I checked, but there was no label with anyone’s name on it.
When Lisa returned, I point to the shell.
“Is that yours? It’s beautiful.”
She sighed. “Sadly, no. I’m more of an oil painter. The eucalyptus painting on the wall is mine. But Emersyn is extremely talented. She’s a senior this year and she’s a candidate for an internship at the Southeastern Museum of Modern Art.”
I should’ve known. And I should’ve stopped there. But I was an addict, thirsty for more knowledge. Like a dehydrated man finally getting a drop of water on his tongue.
“I think she’s in my first period,” I lied easily. “Since when do high school students have time for internships?”
“She’d have to check out early on the days she had to be at the museum. For most seniors, the last two periods are typically elective courses anyways.”
“Ah.” I made a mental note to check her schedule. Why, I have no fucking clue. Glutton for punishment I guess.
Going weeks without being about to find her made me nuts. Now I was desperate to know as much as I could.
“I couldn’t help but notice she seems a bit…overwhelmed already,” I added, while my mind screamed at me to shut my fucking mouth.
Lisa nodded. “I’m new this year too, but yes, I noticed she’s got a lot on her plate.” She moved past Emersyn’s sculpture. “The truth is, with seniors, most of them do. Many of them have jobs and I have one student who’s already a mother and another who’s expecting in the spring.”
Reminded me of what Emersyn said about how certain decisions could change the course of your life forever.
I sighed. “Seems like it wasn’t that long ago I was seventeen myself. And at the same time, it was a lifetime ago.”
Lisa grinned. “Right? I’m twenty-seven and I feel ancient next to them, but I can still remember painting my first still life in middle school. It was a bowl of grapes.”
“I bet it was lovely.”
She laughed. “Hardly. It was a sad, one-dimensional blob. But when my teacher showed me how to add white to the violet paint in swirls and give it texture and dimension, I fell in love with art and never let it go.”
I can’t help but recall Emersyn painting with condiments on pavement in the middle of the night. She was so focused, so passionate and intense.
A heavy weight settled on my chest. I didn’t feel that way about history or teaching or even coaching. The only two things that truly consumed me were Emersyn Tyler and playing hockey. Emersyn was completely off-limits and hockey was almost over.
“You okay?”
I forced a grin. “Yeah. I probably need to get to my class before the bell rings.”
“Um, Mr. Singleton?”
“Aiden, please,” I responded.
She smiled but it was faint. “Be careful, okay? I’ve heard some of the girls talking and, well, let’s just say they’re more…aggressive…than they used to be.”
I lifted my chin. “I’ve noticed. Thanks, Lisa.”
“Anytime. And, um, about Emersyn Tyler?”
I arched my eyebrows in confusion. Thank fuck she couldn’t hear my heart racing. “What about her?”
“The girls, the ones who talk about you, um, inappropriately…they say you’ve got something going on with her.” She rolls her eyes, not knowing I’ve tasted Emersyn. I’ve been insider her tight wet body. I know how she whimpers when she’s pleasured and how she cries out when she comes. The sounds fill my head every time she sits in my classroom.
“Just rumors, Lisa,” I lie. “High school girl gossip. They’ll be on to something else next week.”
“I know it’s just jealously causing the talk,” she says evenly. “But sometimes that’s all it takes.”
4
Emersyn
I hadn’t spoken to Aiden since the first day of school. I stayed silent and kept my head down in his class all week.
I had, however, spoken with my dad. He’d talked to my mom and suddenly she was up, bathing herself, and washing her bedsheets. She’d even made her famous chicken cacciatore when Ethan and I had returned home from his fall league baseball game that Thursday night.
“A letter came for you,” she said during dinner. “It’s on the kitchen counter.”
I practically tripped over my chair trying to get to it.
Once I did, the Southeastern Museum of Modern Art’s fancy letterhead informed me that I’d been accepted to the internship program.
Only four out of hundreds of applicants were accepted based on a unique project submitted over the summer.
I’d sculpted a larger than life size version of an intricate conch shell I’d found at the beach while visiting my dad.
I did the dishes in record time before calling Drew.
“I’m so happy for you, Em,” he said after I’d relayed the news. “But let me ask you this, how the hell are you going to have time to work downtown three days a week?”
“Saturday won’t be a problem. Tuesday and Thursday, I can check out of school early and have Ethan ride the bus to the Anderson’s so they can take him to baseball.”
I didn’t know if that would actually work. But it was Plan A for the time being.
“One more question. What are you going to wear?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. I surveyed my pitiful wardrobe.
“I don’t know.”
My mom refused to accept the money my dad sent for child support. She tore up the checks each time they arrived. And they were made out to her so it wasn’t like I could intercept them and use the money. She was prideful and said we didn’t need his help.
“I could maybe call my dad and ask to put some clothes on his credit card.” My balloon of hope was deflating q
uickly. “But orientation is this Tuesday. I won’t have time to go shopping before then.”
Drew was quiet, then hopeful-sounding when he finally spoke. “Stacy left a ton of stuff behind. Church clothes and stuff mostly, but it should be business-appropriate and close to your size.”
“God love her. Text Stacy and make sure it’s okay. I have to check that Ethan finished his homework, then I’ll be right over.”
My mom was leaning in the doorway of my bedroom when I disconnected the call.
“You got the internship,” she said softly. “Congratulations.”
I sucked in a breath. “I know I have responsibilities around here. I’ll still get Ethan to and from practice and games and keep the house clean and help with the bills and—”
“Emersyn,” she broke in. “Relax. We’ll manage. I’m glad you got what you wanted. You deserve it.”
Huh.
That hadn’t been the response I was expecting. The weight on my shoulders wasn’t gone, but it felt five pounds lighter.
Maybe things would start looking up. For all of us.
“So I’m just going to say it,” Drew began. “All during first period, you look like you have a seizure disorder or something.” We stood in his sister’s old bedroom, going through her left-behind clothing and assembling outfits. “Twitchy, like you’re tweaked out on pills.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” was the best response I could come up with.
The truth was, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I still couldn’t look at Aiden or his desk without recalling what he’d said.
I’d slept with him, ghosted him, cussed him on his first day, and he’d defended me. Lied for me. Protected me.
He wanted to bend me over and spank me. Make me sit on his lap.
And so help me, I wanted him to so badly it was hard to see straight in his presence.
Every time our eyes met, I was back in that Airstream. In his bed, being devoured by his intensity.
