by Jodie Larson
I blow out a quick breath. “No, not really. Not anymore. Neither of us could have known that I couldn’t hold my liquor that night. I’m more upset by what you tried on the couch more than anything else.”
He looks down and away. “I didn’t mean to upset you by that. You just looked so cute and I thought maybe you felt something toward me since you were leaning against me.”
“That was because I was drunk. Chase, you know I like you as a friend,” I say. “And because you’re my friend I’m going to let this one-time incident slide, never to be brought up again. We’ll consider it a lapse in judgment. Deal?”
I stick my hand out and he firmly shakes it. “Deal.”
A strange chill runs up my spine as the teacher enters the room. I snatch my hand away from Chase’s when I turn my attention to a pair of green eyes staring directly at me. Green eyes that I have seen on two occasions and have recently sparked something to life inside of me. The green eyes of my teacher who really is as hot as the surface of the sun.
“Oh my God,” I whisper to myself.
Chase straightens up when he notices that James is staring in our direction.
I can’t move.
I can’t think.
Shock.
That’s what this is. It has to be. I mean, how could he be the new teacher? There’s no way he’s old enough.
He shakes his head, moving back to his desk in the corner and picks up the seating chart, studying it profusely. I watch his eyes dart up and down, back and forth, reading the paper until locking eyes with me again.
What do I do? I mean, it’s not like we’ve done anything wrong. We’ve met twice. Both times completely innocent.
The bell rings and James writes his name on the board, using the same masculine script that was previously up there. A mixture of emotions floods me, ranging from dread to happiness to confusion to need. I stare at his back, admiring the way his dress shirt stretches across it, the flex of each muscle as he writes, and the tightness of his ass in those dress pants. I probably shouldn’t be looking at that but who can help it. The man is to die for.
“Good afternoon, students. My name is Mr. Dumont. I’m your new teacher, replacing Mr. Ward for the year.”
His voice is confident, strong, one of power and authority. And it does something inside me, stirring something up again out of the trenches, bringing it closer to the surface. I shift in my chair, hoping to not draw any attention from the person in front of the class, as well as the person seated next to me.
James picks up the seating chart and leans against the front of his desk, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Since this is my first day and we’re going to have all trimester together, I’d like to start with everyone introducing themselves around the room and saying one thing about you, anything at all. We’ll start with you,” he pauses, looking down at this chart, “Brian.”
I map out the route which the name announcing will take, making me the last one to say anything. Damn me and my need to sit in front and pay attention. Why couldn’t I have been a slacker and sat in the back row?
Each student states their name and says almost the same thing each time. I play football, I read books, I play video games and hang out with my friends. Shit, what am I going to say when it’s my turn? Hi, I run into beautiful strangers and drink coffee with them on occasion.
A tap comes to my shoulder and I realize that I was too lost in my own head to not know it was my turn to talk. Everyone’s looking at me, waiting for me to say something, including James. His eyes stay on mine as I clear my throat and find something witty to say.
“I’m Britta Fosse and I like to be organized.”
A few people laugh in the back row and I mentally smack myself. I like to be organized? What kind of an answer is that? Chase snickers to my side and I throw him a look as I hang my head in embarrassment. But James’s voice draws my head back up.
“I get it, I like to be organized too. It’s kind of my thing,” he says with a smile.
My heart melts just a little more as he eases my embarrassment by agreeing with me. But I already knew that he liked to be organized. His neatness borders on crazy like mine. He told me so during our coffee date.
Not a date.
Shit, I’m going to get in trouble if I start thinking things like that.
My eyes linger on him a bit longer before he starts going into teacher mode, picking up the textbook and having us take turns reading parts of the chapter. Of course, all the girls volunteer immediately to talk, each of them pushing their chests out a little more than necessary as they whine and wiggle their hands in the air. I roll my eyes and sit quietly, hoping to blend into the wall next to me. I don’t need to draw any attention to myself. This will already be hard for multiple reasons. One, I had an instant attraction to James, one that seemed to be reciprocated both times we’ve met. Two, he’s my teacher and now more than ever I wish it were June so I wasn’t in high school anymore.
And three, see problems one and two.
“Ms. Fosse, could you take the next few paragraphs?”
James’s voice filters into my scattered brain, making me realize that I have no idea where we are in the book.
“Um,” I start, glancing over to Chase for help. He tilts his book to the side, pointing to where I need to be and I nod my head in appreciation. James doesn’t miss our exchange when I sneak a peek up at him. The green of his eyes darken slightly and I swear they even narrow marginally.
Strange.
I read the next few paragraphs, trying to hide my nervousness that could give me away as the girl who is thinking things she shouldn’t be. Every once in a while I’ll take a natural pause and look up, only to find James looking at me. When our eyes catch he quickly averts them back to the book, making me do the same.
When the bell finally rings, I gather my things as fast as I can to make a hasty escape. Unfortunately, my book was too close to the edge and gets knocked over. I wait until the last person in my row leaves so I can crouch down and pick it up quickly.
A pair of dress shoes appears in front of me and I’m met with the piercing stare of my teacher, who is now down at my level, helping me gather my fallen items.
“Thanks,” I say, afraid to say anything else.
“You’re welcome.” Our fingers brush briefly in the property exchange, sending a shiver to run straight down my spine. Not one of pain or embarrassment, but something else entirely. Something comforting, something that deep down makes me crave his touch just so I can experience it again.
I stand quickly, smacking my head on my desk as I rise.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” he asks, reaching out but retracting his hand instantly.
I rub the abused spot and nod. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. It’s just a bump.”
All the other students have left, leaving just the two of us in his classroom.
His classroom. He’s my teacher.
I have never wanted something to be less true in my life.
A few seconds of silence pass before he shoves his hands in his pockets and sighs. “So you’re not a teacher.”
I shake my head. “And you’re not a student.”
He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Why did I find you in the teacher’s lounge on Friday if you’re a student?”
I press my books into my chest and stare at the knot in his tie, unable to make eye contact with him. “I’m a teacher’s assistant for Mrs. Davis. I grade her papers, keep her grade book, create her tests, you know, that sort of stuff.”
“Well, then that would explain it. I thought you were Mrs. Davis when I saw you back there. You look so much older than you are.”
Risking a glance, I meet his eyes and shrug. “I’m not that young either. It was my birthday on Friday, my eighteenth.”
Why did I tell him that? What business is it of his to know how old I am? He can figure that out from the class rosters if he really wanted to. I’m turning into one of those girls without even trying.
<
br /> “Happy belated birthday.”
“Thanks.”
He drags his hand through his hair and suddenly I find myself wanting to do it as well. He’s just so unlike any other guy I’ve met before. And it’s not just the fact that he’s older and more mature than the guys I hang around with. It’s something else, only I have no clue what it could be.
“Well, I better get going. Hope everything was okay on Saturday with your parents, you know, when you rushed off from the coffee shop.”
James looks up, meeting my eyes and holding me captive in their bright hue. “Listen, about Saturday. I didn’t know, I mean, there was…wow, this was not the conversation I expected to have with you today.”
“Yeah, me either.” I chew on my bottom lip and look to the left. “Out of curiosity, what were you going to say?”
He clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him.
“Honestly, I was going to see if you wanted to meet up for dinner. But obviously that can’t happen now.”
I wish I hadn’t asked him that question.
“Oh.” My voice is small and quiet.
“What about you? What were you going to ask me?” he says, moving closer.
I drag my eyes to his and debate if I really want to say it out loud.
“If we’re both being honest, I was going to ask you the same thing. Maybe not to dinner but coffee after school or meeting up somewhere.”
His face falls at the same time as mine. Whatever potential we had together is gone.
“It's a shame really. I had all kinds of plans running through my head,” he finally says.
“Yeah, me too.” I look over at the clock. “I better go.”
I turn to leave, but his voice stops me. “Britta?”
“Yes?”
He saunters over to me, looking nervously out the door. “I wish things could have worked out differently for us. But as it stands I am your teacher so we’ll just have to forget everything and pretend we’ve never met.”
“You mean pretend that you didn’t plow me over and make me bruise my butt?” I laugh, causing him to laugh with me. The deep sound echoes through my body and I briefly forget that I’m not supposed to like him.
“I’m pretty sure you were the one who ran into me.”
My smile falters as he runs his hand through his hair again, a nervous tic I’m beginning to pick up on.
“Either way, it would have been nice to see where this could have gone.”
He nods and backs away. “Take care, Britta. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Dumont.”
I walk through the door and down the hall toward my locker, my heart beating a mile a minute inside my chest. In a matter of an hour, I experienced a loss without it ever beginning. One thing I know for certain is that sixth-period geography is now my favorite class, even if it slowly kills me.
“MR. DUMONT IS SO HOT. I mean, it’s been a week and he just keeps getting better and better looking. Don’t you think?” Penny says through a bite of her sandwich.
Around and around the pencil twirls between my fingers as I’m unable to concentrate on anything, except for the electrical pulse that travels through my system whenever I think about James.
Mr. Dumont.
Fuck my life.
“He’s hot all right. Definitely not the standard for a teacher. Maybe he’s a mutant or an alien sent from another planet to study our teenage ways.”
Penny laughs. “Doubtful. However, if he is an alien he can probe me anytime.”
Her comment stirs a sudden jealously within me. This is not a typical reaction for me. This is the response of a jealous girlfriend who sees every girl in a room ogling her boyfriend as a threat. Retract the claws, Britta. He’s not yours.
“I’m sure you would enjoy something like that. And keep your voice down. Do you want to get me in trouble? Or worse, have one of the teachers overhear you and report us? I’d like to keep my assistant job thank you very much.”
“No one is going to hear us. And really, you wouldn’t enjoy having Mr. Dumont do something dirty to you? I find that hard to believe.”
A throat clears behind us and we turn in slow motion to find said teacher standing in the doorway.
“Ms. Morris, I believe lunch is to be eaten in the cafeteria. You should probably leave Ms. Fosse to do her work since she’s technically in class.”
James crosses his arms and gives her a look that begs to be challenged. Instead she gathers up her lunch, shoving it back in her bag.
“I’ll catch you later, Britt. Sorry, Mr. Dumont, it won’t happen again,” Penny says, scurrying out the door. I don’t miss the wicked smile on her face as she rounds the corner. I’m guessing she brushed up against him on her way out.
“Mr. Dumont, I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again. Please don’t let Mrs. Davis know.”
James occupies Penny’s empty chair and folds his hands in his lap. The past week has been torture for me, seeing him in front of the classroom and not being able to talk to him. Not like I want to, not like we had before we knew of our situation. What I wouldn’t give to have spent more time with him that morning at the coffee shop.
James shrugs and smiles at me. “I won’t, don’t worry.”
He leans back and my eyes trace over his features again. As if I don’t do it enough when I’m staring at him in class. Everything about him is perfect to me. His eyes are the brightest shade of green I’ve ever seen in another person. Is it a coincidence that I have a thing for green-eyed guys?
I shift in my chair, wanting to tamp down my thoughts and focus on my papers instead. “So what are you up to? Don’t you have class right now?”
He shakes his head and leans forward. The scent of his cologne surrounds me. It’s still that subtle hint of manliness which makes my eyelids flutter and my blood run faster through my veins.
“Fourth period is my lunch hour. Today I decided to spend it in my office to catch up on some work. It’s been a little hard getting used to everything around here. I try to do as much as I can at home, but I’ve fallen behind.”
I laugh for some reason, finding it funny. “Really? You always seem so put together in class, like you know what you’re doing.”
“Far from it. I’m absolutely terrified up there, but I can’t let you guys see that because you’ll walk all over me.” He diverts his eyes and I swear I see a hint of pink tinge his cheeks. “Well not you, of course, but others in the class would.”
He looks so cute when he’s embarrassed like he just admitted something that would get him in trouble, only nothing about his sentence was inappropriate.
“No, not me. I wouldn’t do that to you. But you’re right. If other kids smelled blood in the water, they would circle you in a heartbeat.”
He leans toward me some more and I stop twirling the pencil in my hand, placing it on top of the stack of papers in front of me.
“That’s why I came to find you. Could you help me?”
I swallow thickly, my throat tight with nerves. “What do you need help with?”
He points to my computer screen. “That. What program is that? I’ve been looking for something to help me keep track of scores and create tests. That’s what you use for Stacy, right?”
It takes me a minute to figure out that Stacy is Mrs. Davis, only because I hardly ever hear her first name used.
I nod. “It’s really easy. I have the disc right here if you want to borrow it.”
James looks down at his watch and cringes. “Can’t right now. I need to get ready for next period.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. “Do you think, I mean, would you be able to download it onto my computer for me so I can start using it after school? You’d be saving my life.”
“Well if it’s a matter of life and death, how can I refuse?”
His arms lift up slightly, as if he wanted to hug me but thinks better of it and stands instead.
“Thank you. I’ll give you extra credi
t for helping me out.” He gives me a sideways smirk. “Not that you need it. I have a feeling you’re going to make my job incredibly easy this trimester.”
“It’s no problem, Mr. Dumont.” I look around and frown. “Which one is your office? I don’t want to assume you took Mr. Ward’s old one and then find myself in the wrong place.”
“Sure. Let me show you.”
James motions for me to follow him through the maze after I grab the disc out of the drawer of the desk. I stay a safe distance behind him even though I want nothing more than to walk directly by his side.
“You seem to be navigating it better back here now,” I say, trying to make light conversation.
His quiet laugh reaches me back here and I close my eyes briefly at the sound. “It took me a few days, but I think I’ve finally got it down.”
“Well, that’s good. Glad you stopped getting lost and knocking down poor innocent bystanders.”
He stops outside his door to unlock it. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” He opens the door and a rush of warm air hits me.
“Never.” We walk into the small space and I quickly glance around. There are no personal touches, no picture frames, or anything else that would give me an indication of who he is. Just a few books, his computer, a briefcase, and a coat hanging on a hook. “Wow, you’ve really spruced it up in here. Going for simplistic?”
He shakes his head with a smile. “Give me a break. It’s only been a week.”
“Nope. I’m holding you to a higher standard than everyone else,” I say, taking a seat in his computer chair. It’s soft and I sink right into it. The childish devil in me keeps thinking that my ass is touching the same space his ass has been. The angel in me is gone because she’s ogling him standing behind me.
I load the disc as James leans down to hover over my shoulder. I can feel the body heat emanating from him. If I turn my head slightly, my lips will connect with his cheek.
Fuck I need to get him out of here.
“I’ll just load it onto your desktop for now. You can put it anywhere after that.”
He braces a hand against the desk and turns to face me. We’re inches apart; our eyes connecting with each other. I can feel my pulse quicken and my breathing speeds up slightly. My eyes dart to his mouth as it parts, dragging in a silent breath.
