Giving In to You

by L. M. Carr

  I place my hand in his, praying that he doesn’t notice how sweaty my palm is. Adam’s eyes, full of lust, look at me as his hand closes gently around mine. My hand is raised gently to meet his full lips; he places a lingering kiss on my knuckles. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, Miss Delaney.”

  Maybe I’m still drunk or just a little, tiny bit buzzed because the room starts to spin around me, and I feel my body sway slightly. I miss the contact immediately when he releases his grip, walking out without another word.

  Unfortunately that feeling dissipates, near orgasm forgotten, the moment I turn the corner and see Gina standing there talking to him. His tall body leans down and whispers something in her ear, before he throws his arm casually around her, leading her out of the building. The sound of her hyena cackle grates on my nerves and screeches in my ears like chalk on a fucking blackboard. What the fuck? Did I just imagine that whole thing? Maybe I really am still drunk. Or maybe he’s just a gorgeous man-whore. Asshole!

  ***

  THE NEXT FEW DAYS are uneventful and fly by quickly. Thursday afternoon Shelby and I find ourselves at The Pour House for a few, well-deserved cocktails. People flock in and fill every space in the tiny bar—friends and strangers drink and laugh together, welcoming the near end of another week. A couple vacates a high top table so Shelby and I grab it and sit comfortably, drinking our wine, chatting about our students, the parents and about how the first few weeks have gone. I don’t mention to Shelby about Adam’s generous offer. I wonder briefly if he’s offered the same to her. She is Luke’s teacher after all. Something deep down tells me not to.

  Even after ordering a second glass of wine, I still feel wound up. I keep thinking about the look on Adam’s face—it was priceless. I didn’t mean to be a bitch to him. Well, maybe I did…a little. Each afternoon, his flirtation was met with my defiance and opposition. I hate guys like Adam Lawson and all they stand for.

  The moment Adam stepped up to the dismissal table the smile that graced my face disappeared.

  “Hello, Miss Delaney. And how was your day?” He smiled, scribbling his name.

  “Fine,” I spat out. No smile or amusement showing as I quickly moved him along so I could attend to the next parent in line.

  Clearly he didn’t get the hint because he didn’t move. “Are you sure? You seem upset…with me.” His eyes tightened like he’s trying to concentrate on my face.

  “Why would I be upset with you? I don’t even know you.” Brain to mouth filter must be broken again.

  “Well, if there’s anything I can do to put that beautiful smile back on your face…please let me know.” A devilish grin appeared on his handsome face as he turned to get his kids.

  When the next parent arrived, I had a smile back in place and I greeted them with kindness and professionalism.

  “Hello? Earth to Mia…” Shelby’s voice snaps me out of my daydream.

  “What?” I snap back before uttering an apology along with “please forgive me” eyes while I run my hand through my long hair then smooth my eyebrows with my thumb and index finger.

  “Damn, girl. Didn’t you hear me? I’ve been calling your name for like five minutes. What’s up with you? You’ve been off,” she hesitates, “all week.”

  I try and laugh it off as nothing, my betraying shoulders shrug. “I don’t know...I guess I’m a little stressed. It’s not a big deal. I’ll be fine.”

  “You lying little bitch!” Her eyes full of amusement. “Seriously, what’s wrong? Tell me!”

  I don’t really know what to say. I can’t even pinpoint what’s bothering me.

  “Oh. My. God. I know you! This is about a guy, isn’t it? Shane? Did you sleep with him? Are you guys getting back together? I swear to God, I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

  Her questions fly at me one after the next and I manage to dodge each one of them. I tip back the rest of my wine and place it down on the worn, oak table. “Well,” I reply, “I’m not sleeping with Shane and we’re definitely not getting back together so there’ll be no need for ass kicking.”

  “But…” she prompts, “it is about a guy.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is sort of about a guy, but not really…” I confirm, reaching for her glass since mine is empty.

  “Mia, seriously! What the hell? Spit that shit out already!” She reaches to take the glass back. “And don’t drink my wine, you lush!”

  My laughter only serves to prolong the inevitable, causing her eyes to narrow at me. So I divulge all about Adam and his constant, unyielding flirting. Shelby’s eyes become animated as she delights the predicament I find myself in. She’s convinced that I should give in and enjoy what he’s offering, until she hears about the one name that could change it all: Gina. That is an absolute game changer.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” the cocktail waitress interrupts our conversation when she sets down two more glasses of wine. “These were sent over by the gentleman. Enjoy.” She nods to someone across the room.

  Looking around the crowded bar, Shelby and I try to figure out who is the mystery man who sent over our drinks so we could thank him. I recognize most of the patrons from town; no one stands out or is paying any particular attention to us.

  “It’s nice to know we’ve still got it, girl!” Shelby raises her glass and clinks it with mine. “I’ll be right back.” A sinful grin washes across Shelby’s face, after she hears her phone signal an incoming text.

  “Wait! Where are you going?” I laugh, demanding that she give me her phone as I reach across the table, trying to grab it out of her hand.

  “My husband misses me. Do you mind?” she chides, pulling away from me.

  “Yeah, right. You’re such a little slut. You’re going to send a selfie again, aren’t you? Good thing you’re married now!”

  She struts off in the direction of the ladies’ room, but I’m quick to yell, reminding her that “friends don’t let friends drink and send selfies to wrong numbers.” Let’s just say I’ve mistakenly been on the receiving end of one of Shelby’s texts and I’ve seen a whole lot more than just her pretty face.

  I glance around the noisy bar, noticing how much louder and busier it is now than when we first arrived. There are people everywhere. The manager sets up a microphone in the far corner for open mic night.

  I check my phone for any new messages. I tug at the silver, circle pendant that hangs from necklace and run it back and forth between my fingers, a telltale sign of my agitation. Then I tap my red fingernails against the engraved name on the wooden table top waiting for Shelby to return. As I slowly sip the wine, a feeling of paranoia overcomes me. It’s not creepy, I just feel like someone’s watching me. I feel it deep within me with parts that have been dormant for a long time.

  A few minutes later when a table of four gets up to leave, I have a clear view of a man staring at me. Our gazes meet, but I feign indifference when Adam smiles and raises the glass of amber liquid to his mouth, taking a slow sip before saluting me with a slight nod. Without meaning to, I roll my eyes at him. This man is everywhere and he’s got some nerve. This must be some fun game to him. One I’m not interested in playing.

  I’m not a rude person. I’m just rude to jerks who like to flirt mercilessly and then walk away with their arm draped around another woman. I look over again just in time to see his blonde female companion, who was busy on her phone earlier, walk away from the table. She’s tall, curvy and beautiful. She’s not the same woman from the club. A man like Adam probably has got so many women that he numbers them like cattle.

  Shelby returns to our table, giddy and buzzed. She notices my gaze and follows it. “Whoa! Who is that fine fucker?”

  “No one.”

  “Hah! No one, my ass,” she snorts. “Who is he?”

  I scoff and lean over casually to whisper in her ear, “That fine fucker is none other than Mr. Adam Lawson aka Luke and Madison’s dad.” My eyebrows rise in a “see what I mean” look. I reach into my bag when I hear an inc
oming text alert.

  “No, way! Seriously? He’s hot!” She peeks over her shoulder. I have a perfect view of him. He sits with his back against the chair, his eyes, now stern, are cast down to his phone. I watch as his chest rises and falls with each inhale and exhale. His fingers work swiftly tapping out a message and then he waits. He taps again.

  “Yes, he definitely is hot,” I answer, keeping my eyes down as I tap out my own text. “But he seems like a pig, if you ask me.”

  “Uh, Mia...you might want to get ready because that pig is walking this way.”

  My eyes snap up in attention. I drop my phone into my bag, quickly grabbing my glass. I plaster the biggest, fakest smile on my face as if Shelby has told me that I’ve won our nation’s largest lottery jackpot.

  I know he’s approaching before I actually see him. I can feel his presence. I can smell his scent. My nipples harden; my body starts to tingle below.

  “Miss Delaney! What a surprise! It’s wonderful to see you with a smile on your face.” His deep voice comes very close to my ear. My eyes close involuntarily and I inhale his clean, masculine scent. Yep, I’ve definitely had one too many glasses of wine.

  My nervous hand begins to twist the stem of the wine glass between my fingers. He sets his glass down beside mine. His finger brushes against mine as his gaze drops from my eyes to my lips, searching my face. Hello? Inappropriate! Does this man not know boundaries? What’s with the touching?

  “Hi! I’m Shelby Matthews. I don’t think we’ve met,” Shelby interjects, thrusting her hand out, reminding us of her presence.

  “Ahhh…Mrs. Matthews. Forgive me. I’m Adam Lawson.” He draws her name out slowly and intentionally, his head turning in my direction and then back to Shelby. “My son, Luke, is in your class,” he states that fact as he shakes her hand. I watch with anticipation for the kiss that never comes.

  “Yes, Luke’s a great kid. Very bright. Very polite.”

  His expression is one of pride. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” He pauses, “But you should see him at home. He’s quite the wild child.” His attention is now fixed on me. “And Madison? How’s my Maddie girl doing, Miss Delaney?”

  He raises his glass to his lips, ice clinking when he tips back the last of his drink, those dark, sexy eyes never leaving mine.

  I swallow hard. “She’s fine. I mean, she’s doing well. She’s a sweetheart.” I don’t know what prompts me to ask the next question. I chalk it up to liquid courage. “Is she like her brother?” His eyes display his confusion. So I clarify, “Is she a wild child at home? You know, like her brother?” Holy shit! It sounds like my voice, but this attitude isn’t me. It’s him. He makes me a little edgy and belligerent.

  When his cheeks pull back into a wide grin, a small crinkle appears around his eyes. His words are playful when he answers, “Hmmm…good question. We’re still trying to figure that out. She’s definitely way more reserved so I’m working on getting her to open up. She doesn’t always do as she’s told, but don’t cross her; she can be quite feisty at times.” I know that he knows that we are not talking about his daughter.

  “Hah! I love her already!” I laugh as I lean in close to his ear, my warm breath whispers, “It’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.” Adam’s body stiffens momentarily and then he inhales leisurely. I smile and pull back to sip the last of my wine before raising it in the air. “Cheers.” Yep, I’m officially drunk.

  Dark eyes stare at me, trying to figure out his next move. Our staring contest is over when his attention is diverted to the woman who is now heading back to their cozy little table for two. A slight frown mars his face. He exhales, “Well, ladies. I don’t want to keep you.” Turning to Shelby, he extends his hand. “Mrs. Matthews, it truly was a pleasure meeting you. You keep that boy of mine in line. Crack the whip if you need to.” Shelby blushes and smiles. “Will do, sir. And please call me Shelby.” That little wench! She’s melting into a puddle of teenage hormones right before my eyes and she’s married!

  Trying to avoid any more strained moments, I thrust my hand out and plaster on the cheesiest grin I can manage. “Goodbye, Mr. Lawson. Enjoy your evening.”

  “Yes, you as well…” he hesitates. Maybe he’s waiting for me to say “call me by my first name,” but I don’t. “Miss Delaney. It’s Miss Delaney.”

  His large hand closes around mine, leaning in close enough to hug me or kiss me. I smell his cologne or body wash, and Dear Lord, he smells divine!

  “You…Miss Delaney, have an absolutely beautiful smile…” he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear. “I can put that smile on your face a million different ways.” He pulls back and slowly releases my hand, his eyes never straying from mine. “Ladies.” He nods and walks back to the table where Ms. Curvy Blonde awaits with a puss on her face. Shelby stares after him and sighs. That earns her my squinty evil eye.

  FRIDAY. WHO DOESN’T love Friday? It’s dress down day, payday, and the start to the weekend. It’s also the day we have our “share” time in our class. To say that I’m very interested to see what a certain dark-haired little girl has brought in to share today would be a serious understatement. Is it wrong that I think I might gain some insight into her father? Yes. Is it wrong that I don’t care? Probably.

  I sit back with anticipation as Madison waits patiently, watching her classmates share what they’ve brought in. Apprehension spreads across her adorable face when she reaches into her pink backpack, unwraps a purple cashmere scarf, revealing a pair of old, well-worn ballet slippers, dirty, tattered tape covering the toes. A proud, beaming smile appears, but quickly diminishes, a quivering lip replaces it after Lizzie, another student, comments that the slippers aren’t even hers, basically calling Madison a liar.

  “They are mine! Well…” she hesitates, tears forming in her eyes, “they were my mother’s, but they’re mine now.” She quietly stuffs the slippers back into the bag, burying her reddened face, no doubt to hide the tears that have spilled over onto her cheeks.

  My heart splinters into tiny pieces right there. I inhale deeply, reaching over to grab a tissue off my desk when the bell rings signaling time for afternoon recess. Madison takes the tissue but keeps her head down. I lower myself and whisper in her ear, asking her if she wouldn’t mind staying inside with me during recess so we can talk. She doesn’t respond at first. I assure her that she’s not in any sort of trouble. “I’d just like to talk to you. Would that be okay?”

  I usher the rest of the class to the door and tell them to follow Mrs. Matthew’s class outside to the playground area while Madison moves to sit at her desk.

  I slide a chair over from the reading table to sit by her and smooth her hair away from her face like my mom used to do to me and ask what’s got her so upset. She shrugs her shoulders, hiccupping through a few remaining tears.

  “I miss my mom.” To know the pain of loss as an adult is hard enough, but for a child to know that pain absolutely shreds me.

  “Aw, sweetie. I know it’s hard when you miss someone. Want to tell me about her?” No response just another hiccup. The small chair scraps loudly when I move it closer to her so I can gently rub her back.

  “You know, it’s okay to miss people. It means they were important to you. I miss people every day. My mom lives all the way in Florida and my brother lives all the way in Texas. Both places are pretty far away.” I continue rubbing circles on her back. “I get to see them sometimes, but my dad...he’s in Heaven like your mom.” The confidence in my voice surprises me since I usually get choked up talking about my dad.

  Finally, she lifts her red-rimmed eyes, her face stained with tears and looks at me. “Your dad’s in Heaven?”

  I nod, offering a small smile. I share some of my favorite memories of my father: teaching me how to swim, how to play softball and even how to hook a worm. Her nose scrunches up in disgust at that last bit and then she smiles. “You know,” I continue, “it really is okay to miss your mom. I bet you have some great memori
es.”

  Her face beams. “She was a ballerina. A real one, but then she got sick. Now she’s in Heaven.”

  “Wow. A ballerina? She must’ve been beautiful and graceful. Do you dance, Madison?”

  A silent nod is her response. “Daddy just signed me up. I go with my best friend, Sophie. She’s in my brother’s class.” Sophie? Gina’s daughter? They can’t possibly have known each other that long since they just moved here over the summer. That’s interesting, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Gina hasn’t made her move already. After all that’s what she does. She’s like a King Cobra who slithers her way into people’s lives and then devours them.

  “That’s awesome. I bet you’re going to be great!” I smile.

  “Yeah, it’s fun. But I’m not as good as Sophie. She’s been dancing for a long time. After dance, me and Sophie and her mom always get frozen yogurt at Peachwave.”

  I know I shouldn’t try to garner information from a little girl, but curiosity wins out. “And where’s your dad? Doesn’t he take you to dance class?” I know I’m prying, but honestly, I just can’t help myself.

  “No.” She shakes her head sadly. “He works a lot and Thursday is his late night. Sometimes I sleep at Sophie’s house.” Seriously? What responsible parent would willingly let their kid sleep out on a school night? I wonder if Adam sleeps there, too. Another piece to the Adam Lawson puzzle.

  When the bell rings, signaling the end of recess, I pull Madison in for a sideways hug, thanking her for talking with me and remind her that she can always talk to me. She wraps both arms around my waist and holds me close. Her cheek presses against my stomach. I feel something shift deep in my soul. Breathe, Mia, breathe.

  “You’re the best teacher ever, Miss Delaney.” I’ve heard those words before over the years, but for some reason, this feels different.

  As dismissal draws near, my pulse starts to quicken and I find myself reapplying lip gloss for the umpteenth time. I just need to be professional. This isn’t even about me or how he’s driving me crazy with his flirting. No, this is about a student in my class. This is a teacher talking to a parent, sharing a concern about a student. Yeah, right! I can’t even convince myself.