See Me After Class

by Quinn, Meghan

  “I agree. This isn’t particularly how I want to spend my night,” Arlo says. “And since I drove and I have the food, you two better be moving your asses.”

  “What are we going to say to Jason?” Romeo complains.

  “Tell him it looked like sparks flew from the very beginning,” I say, laying it on thick. “That when I walked up to him, as a greeting, not only did I smooth my hand up the lapel of his jacket, but I also pressed a soft kiss to the scruff on his face while his hand very delicately slid around my waist, just above the swell of my ass.”

  Gunner scratches the side of his face and turns to Romeo. “I think Jason would totally buy that.”

  “Easily. Romantic and detailed.” Romeo claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Gibson.”

  “You’re welcome.” I smile and start to walk toward the door of the restaurant. “And if you two need a picture, I’ll have the waitress take a candid shot of us without Walker knowing.”

  “God, that would be a dream. Thank you.”

  “Anything for you, boys.” I twiddle my fingers at them as a goodbye. “Enjoy your food.” Just as Arlo turns the corner, he shoots me a quick look, a look so devastating, so vulnerable, that I have a sudden need to chase after him.

  But I don’t.

  Why? Because he’s been an asshole all week, back to his normal self, and, if I’m honest, I think I dodged a potential bullet. Do I fantasize about him sexually? God, how could I not? As I told him, he does oral very well. But a long-term relationship can’t be all about sexual satisfaction. Apart from those sexually charged moments with Arlo, he gave me nothing. In fact, I still know nothing about him. He’s a closed book—yes, a great pun for an English teacher—and that’s not me. I want to be with someone warm and funny, an equal. Surely that’s not too much to ask for.

  This date isn’t about him.

  This is about me.

  If he wanted a chance, he had it. And if he couldn’t work out that I like openness and honesty—sharing—then again, I’m glad we’re through.

  Exhaling, I walk into the restaurant and tell the hostess I’m here to meet Walker. She takes me back to a private area immediately, where I find him hunched over at the table, on his phone, wearing a slate-gray button-up and black pants. When he spots us, he quickly tucks his phone away and stands.

  And good God is he massive.

  Tall.

  Muscular.

  Larger than life.

  “Your waitress will be with you soon,” the hostess says.

  “Thank you,” Walker responds. Holding out his hand, he says, “It’s nice to meet you, Greer.”

  Jason would be so disappointed with this greeting. I shake his hand and say, “Great to meet you, Walker.”

  Like a gentleman, he pulls out my chair, helps me into my seat, and then sits across from me.

  Immediately, I feel awkward. Not because of Walker, but because blind dates are incredibly uncomfortable.

  “I saw that you guys won your game. Congrats.”

  “Thanks.” He shifts in his chair, attempting to get comfortable.

  Okay, not much of a talker. “So, how do you know Jason? Besides the whole baseball thing?”

  “We work on same non-profit things together.” Walker picks up his menu and examines the choices. He looks . . . distressed, almost as distressed as I felt when Arlo gave me that last look. He sets the menu down and says, “Hell, Greer. I’m sorry. I . . . my head is with someone else. I don’t want to lead you on, but Jason begged me to go on this date.”

  I reach out and press my hand to his arm. His eyes lift up to mine, and I say, “Don’t apologize, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to the same thing.”

  He perks up. “Really?”

  I bite my bottom lip and nod. Although, his comment really does nothing for my self-esteem. Jason begged me to go on this date. Yep. But, I’m also glad he’s upfront and honest. “Unfortunately, even though he’s everything wrong for me.”

  Walker seems to think on that and says, “Should we talk about it?”

  I chuckle. “I mean, you’re the only neutral party I know that I could talk to about it. What about you?”

  “Same.”

  “Did our date just become a therapy session?”

  “I think it did.”

  “Does this mean we can order all the food, and dig deep into our feelings?”

  “Food, yes. Deep feelings . . . maybe.”

  “Fair enough.” I hold up the menu. “Let’s make a dent in this menu, Rockwell.”

  * * *

  “Huh,” I say, tapping my chin and lifting my glass of wine to my lips. “That’s quite the pickle.”

  “It is.” He takes a sip of his water while we wait for our food. We just shared an appetizer of ceviche, cleared that out pretty quick, but it did a good job curbing the hunger that was starting to set in.

  “And there’s no possible way she can date you unless she’s not working for the Bobbies?”

  “There’s a zero-tolerance policy for staff.”

  “Huh, and I thought my situation was bad. You have it way worse.”

  “Let’s talk about you, then.”

  “It’s the classic story,” I say waving my hand. “Girl meets boy, boy . . . fiddles around with her, girl wants more, boy is emotionally unavailable.”

  He nods in understanding. “I can see that,” he says quietly. He’s very reserved, doesn’t speak much, I’ve noticed, but what he does say usually packs a lot of punch. “I’ve been emotionally unavailable, and it has nothing to do with the girl and everything to do with me unable to break through that barrier. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t want you. Just means he doesn’t know how to want you.”

  I think back to Arlo’s expression tonight, the dejection in his eyes. “The want is there,” I say. “And this might be too much information, but he’s been very adamant about making me feel good. I have yet to do anything sexual to him. Even a kiss. Nothing.”

  Walker scratches the side of his face. “Sounds like something I’d do, but he has a stronger will than me.”

  “Why?”

  “Not wanting to give in to temptation and getting lost in it,” Walker says automatically, his eyes drifting to something over my shoulder. “One taste, one feel, and it could ruin a man like me, like him. Someone who’s holding back. He’s reserved, and there’s a deep-rooted reason. But there’s a reason why he won’t go there with you, and it’s because he sees you as a threat.”

  “A threat?” I ask, my brow creasing. “How so?”

  “Because, he’s probably spent a great amount of time putting up the wall that’s guarding his emotions, and with one look, you cracked it.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Let me ask you this,” Walker says, turning toward me completely and leaning in. “Does he touch you a lot when he gets the chance?”

  “I mean . . . yeah. He always has a hand on me.”

  “Does he leave abruptly after pleasuring you?”

  “Yes, and it’s really annoying.”

  “Do you find yourself being tracked down by him? Like a wolf to the prey? Eyes always on you?”

  “Yes . . .”

  Walker nods. “He wants to claim you but won’t let himself.”

  “Well, that’s bullshit, then,” I say, crossing my arms. “Why do I want to be involved in his emotional instability?”

  “You don’t.” Walker tilts his drink back and sets the glass on the table. “You did the right thing, walking away, going on this date with me.”

  “It’s not really a date.” I smile at him.

  “He doesn’t know that. All he knows is that you’re out with another man. A man who could possibly encroach on his territory. If I were him, I’d be pacing my goddamn house right now, vibrating with anger.”

  “He doesn’t have a right to be angry.”

  “Nope, he doesn’t. But that doesn’t mean he won’t be.” Walker shrugs. “Don’t try to think on it too much, because it won’t ma
ke sense to you. Unless you live inside our heads, it’ll never make sense.”

  He’s not wrong. Guys are weird creatures. Walker is really sweet, and despite his tough-guy façade, I like that he’s showing me inside his mind. Although, as he noted, I pose no threat.

  “So what do I do, then?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I ask as our food is delivered to our table. Walker went with the filet and a side of vegetables, while I chose the salmon on mango rice.

  He picks up his fork and knife. “Yup. Nothing. From experience, I can tell you, pushing him for more will only push him away.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? Just sit back and wait until he pulls his head out of his ass? What if he never does? I’d be wasting my time.”

  Walker pauses mid-cut of his meat and looks up at me. “Is that how you feel? Like he’s wasting your time?”

  “Is he not? Dragging me along with no thought of even exploring a relationship? That’s stringing someone along, Walker. Is that what you’re doing with your girl?”

  He sets his silverware down on his plate and moves his hand over his jaw. “No, I don’t think so. If she was teasing me like this guy is teasing you, knowing it could go nowhere, I’d be pissed off. And I certainly wouldn’t do that to her. We haven’t done anything intimate. Just work side by side.”

  “But you can’t stop thinking about her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you think there’s attraction on her side?”

  “I believe there is.”

  “So, you both are at an impasse right now.”

  “Seems that way.”

  Chuckling, I drive my fork through the salmon, scooping up some of the meat. “Aren’t we a pair?”

  He shakes his head in laughter. “We are.”

  * * *

  “Chocolate makes all the worries temporarily go away,” I say, scooping up some of the fudge from the lava cake and bringing it directly to my mouth.

  Even though he’s on a strict diet, Walker indulged tonight as well, splitting the lava cake with me. “So, what are you going to do?”

  We spent the entire night talking through our options, discussing our different situations, how we could possibly make them work or not work. How we’d feel if they didn’t work out. Would we be upset walking away? Or would we get over it? I don’t know about Walker, but I have my answer.

  “Walking,” I say, before pulling my fork past my lips again to collect any leftover chocolate.

  “You’re not going to wait?”

  I shake my head. “No. I’m glad you helped me understand his possible motives, but honestly, I’m not here for complicated. I came to Chicago to start a new chapter, to be the best teacher I can be, and to help my volleyball team win a state championship. Even though I think I could like Arlo, his mood swings are unpredictable. And . . . I’m not sure he’d ever offer a deep, emotional connection. I don’t think I’m ready to take on anything that’s going to reduce my emotional wellness.”

  He nods.

  “Does that answer scare you?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m at a stalemate with my situation. She works for the Bobbies; I’m a player. The only way we can be together is if she gives up her job, and I’d never ask her to do that.”

  “Is she willing to do that?”

  “It’s not an option,” Walker says matter-of-factly, and I don’t argue.

  “So, then . . . should we have given this a shot?”

  He laughs and so do I. “I think we’re too far gone on emotional humiliation to even consider it.”

  “I wouldn’t say what we went through was emotional humiliation. More like bonding.” I hold up my wine glass. “To new friends.”

  He smirks. “To new friends.”

  We clink our glasses and then finish our lava cake. Continuing the gentlemanly act, Walker pays for dinner even though I incessantly asked him to split it with me. He shut me up when he told me that he probably earns my entire paycheck for the year when he plays a single game. So . . . he paid.

  We gather up our things and head out of the restaurant. Once outside, I turn to him and say, “Even though this isn’t how Jason hoped for things to go, I’m really glad we went out. It’s given me peace of mind. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about this.”

  “Me neither.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I appreciate you wanting to listen.”

  “I know this may be weird, but do you want to maybe exchange phone numbers, that way we can continue to help each other if need be?”

  “Glad you asked.” He pulls his phone out. “I could use the friend.”

  “Me too. My friends are teachers or Arlo’s sister. Can’t quite communicate about this with them.”

  “Not so much.” He hands me his phone and I plug in my info. He then sends me a text and I save his contact information. “Jason is probably going to cry when he finds out we’re just going to be friends.”

  “That’s the second time someone mentioned Jason crying. Is he overly emotional?”

  “You could say that.” Walker shifts. “Would it be weird to send him a picture of us together? Maybe to ease his mind, and then I can break the news to him later?”

  “As long as you don’t tell him what we talked about.”

  “That shit’s between us,” Walker says in a serious tone. “You don’t have to worry about me mentioning that to anyone.”

  “Thank you.” I snuggle against him and say, “Let’s take that picture.”

  Holding out his phone, he turns it to selfie mode and we take a quick picture that Walker sends to Jason. His response is immediate.

  Emoji heart eyes.

  “He’s going to be crushed,” I say.

  “Yup.” He gives me a quick hug, and then we’re on our way.

  Even though it wasn’t a love connection, I still feel lighter, happier, than when I first arrived. In fact, the time with Walker has given me hope. There are good guys out there, who, like Walker, are essentially reserved. Arlo’s reserve is a deliberate choice. A controlling choice. I take a deep breath, knowing I’m going to be okay.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ARLO

  “Good morning,” Gunner says, strolling into my classroom. “How was your weekend?”

  Painful.

  Miserable.

  A goddamn agonizing two days.

  “Fine,” I answer, opening my laptop and firing it up for the day.

  “Just fine?”

  “Yeah, just fine. What do you want me to do? Perform a dance number associated with my weekend?”

  “I mean, I wouldn’t mind it.” Gunner laughs. “I took Dylan and Lindsay to the Bobbies game this Sunday. Dylan was living his best life in the box seats and went home with a massively sick belly from how much he ate, but he had one hell of a time. Pretty sure he’s going to be a Bobbie for life. Jason will try to convert him over to a Rebel, though. No doubt about it.”

  “Glad you had a good time,” I say curtly.

  “Dude, you okay? You look really tense.”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “Morning,” Romeo says, walking into my classroom as well. He sets a pastry box on my desk and says, “Stopped by Frankie Donuts this morning. Made the extra trip because they started this new donut-of-the-week promotion and I couldn’t resist this week’s.” He flips the bakery lid open, revealing the best donuts in Chicago. The smell alone makes my mouth water. “Piña colada. Coconut and pineapple frosting, yeast donut, with a cherry and coconut flakes to top it off. How I waited to eat one until now is beyond me.” He reaches in, grabs a donut, and takes a massive bite. After a few moans and groans, he says, “Fuck, this is good.”

  Gunner picks one up and says, “This isn’t on the pyramid of health we’re talking about today, but to hell with it, I’m an adult.” He takes a large bite as well and moans, then they both stare down at me, waiting for me to indulge.

  Hell, might as well, given my current state of high-level irritatio
n.

  I pick up a donut and take a bite.

  Yup, that’s good.

  That’s really fucking good.

  “I’m contemplating between putting the rest in the teachers’ lounge or keeping them for myself,” Romeo says. “After I deliver one to Stella, of course. She’d murder me if I didn’t give her first dibs.”

  “Don’t forget Greer,” Gunner says.

  “Oh, shit, I almost forgot. Guess what Jason sent me last night?” Romeo takes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through it for a few seconds before turning the screen toward us.

  On the screen is a picture of Walker and Greer, snuggled in close, smiling at the camera.

  What the fuck . . .

  “Looks like they had a great time and hit it off well. Jason tried to pry for details, but didn’t get anything from Walker, just the picture. I told him I’d ask during lunch today.”

  “He must be squealing with excitement,” Gunner says.

  “He told me he was full of emotions last night and couldn’t quite work through them.”

  “He’s such an idiot.” Gunner chuckles and they go on about Jason, but I tune them out, because all I can think about it how comfortable Greer looked in the picture.

  Are they going out on another date?

  Did he kiss her goodnight?

  Fuck . . .

  If he kissed her, I’m going to fucking lose my goddamn mind.

  I haven’t even tasted those lips.

  But that’s entirely on me.

  And even though I don’t want to admit it, I’m fucking regretful.

  I wish I knew what her mouth felt like on mine. I wish I knew what it felt like to hold her hand. To snuggle in and take a picture with her, but that emotional block is there. The one impeding me from going any further with her.

  She put a crack in it, began to knock it down, and instead of embracing it, I fled.

  I got scared.

  Worried.

  She was right to push me away. She’s someone who deserves to be cherished, worshipped. A relationship girl.

  I barely know how to be emotional with my sister, to care for her. How could I care for someone else?