Revealed: A Hype PR and Eye Candy Bookstore Anthology

by Bethany Lopez

  I’m the quintessential Southern belle.

  I’m from a small town located just outside of Charleston, South Carolina and every resident here knows me, my father, and every person that holds a branch of the Sullivan family tree. My father is a banker, accountant, and the mayor. It isn’t often that I can pass someone without hearing, “Savannah, you be sure to tell your daddy that I said hello.”

  My mother has organized every bake sale and fundraiser our church or school has had for years. She’s president of more ladies groups than I care to remember. Half of the women in this town think she’s their best friend. I couldn’t sneeze in school without my mother hearing about it.

  And I’m their only child…Savannah Olivia Sullivan.

  S.O.S. It’s fitting, really. The international distress signal.

  I’m a hot mess.

  So, yes—I know right from wrong. But, to me life isn’t black and white. There’s a whole hell of a lot of gray and I’m perpetually stuck in it.

  Chapter Two

  Deep breaths.

  You got this.

  Leaning against a cool metal locker just outside of my classroom, I give myself an internal pep talk.

  My last class of the day is giving me an ulcer, I swear.

  Sighing, I release a rush of unsteady air before turning to open the old wooden door that’s probably been opened by every Sullivan to pass through the halls of our town’s small high school.

  Plastering a smile on my face, I enter. My Louis Vuittons, that cost way more than my measly salary could ever afford, click across the tiled floor. Just another reminder that I don’t belong here in this place where everyone knows everyone and nothing ever changes. I should be in New York City or LA—somewhere bigger, better.

  Heck, I probably shouldn’t even be a teacher. Yet, the job opportunities for women in this community are slim. A vast array of choices wasn’t a luxury I had when choosing a career path.

  “Buenos Días, Clase!” I greet the students with a wide smile, wiping my palms against my gray pencil skirt. I ignore the dark brown eyes that I know are staring at me from a desk in the first row. My acute awareness of him never lessens.

  “Buenos Días, Señora Sullivan,” they chant back with less enthusiasm.

  To say my father wasn’t pleased when I chose to become a Spanish teacher is an understatement. But, as a seventeen-year-old fresh out of high school, something about the language of love called to me. Additionally, it’s required for every student who graduates from this high school to take a year of foreign language. And seeing that the only foreign language that’s offered is Spanish, I have pretty good job security.

  I begin passing out the “pop quiz” that I warned the students about yesterday amidst a collection of obnoxious groans. Surely I wasn’t this whiny when I was in high school? I hope Mr. Breyers, my principal, doesn’t choose this moment to give me my final evaluation for my first year of teaching. I will probably be knocked a few points under the “fostering a joy of learning” category.

  I’ve tried everything I can think of to help my students enjoy this class, but despite all my efforts, the majority of them continue to act like spoiled little assholes. Can I say that about students? Eh, probably not. But, it’s true regardless. I would have never been so disrespectful to my teachers. I get that most of them couldn’t care less about learning this language, but they could pretend. I’m their teacher and by extension that should earn me respect.

  And now…at the ripe old age of twenty-two…I’ve turned into my mother.

  The hilarity of that thought brings a smile to my face.

  “I’m happy to see you, too,” a deep voice says from the desk where I just absentmindedly placed a quiz.

  My smile instantly morphs into a scowl. I ignore the comment and take a step toward the desk behind him. His hand darts out to grab my wrist and a small gasp rushes out. My gaze darts from my wrist to his face and back again. I can’t allow my focus to linger on his features too long. His chocolate brown eyes, long dark lashes, and wide smile suck me in every time. And the day old scruff that creates a delicious shadow across his skin…I can’t even acknowledge that.

  Closing my eyes, I steel the nerve to say something to him…something “teacherly,” whatever that could be. But, before I speak he lets me go. I continue down the last row, stack of quizzes in hand, without a backwards glance. What an ass.

  The students hand in their completed quizzes. Then, in this day of technological advances where most students are taught using iPads, Smart boards, and PowerPoint presentations…I use actual chalk to write verb conjunctions on the blackboard. As I talk to myself in front of the class, answering my own questions that none of my students seem to know the answer to, I can feel his stare on my back. After eight months of it, I’ve gotten pretty good at ignoring him. When I do turn toward the students, I focus on those in the back.

  The bell rings and most students have rushed out of the door before I can finish saying, “Have a nice weekend.”

  Plopping into my desk chair, I let out a groan as my head falls back to face the ceiling.

  “Don’t worry, their disinterest stems from their loathing of the actual subject more than their dislike of you.”

  I scoff and allow my gaze to meet his. “Thanks for that, Jackson,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “Just go.”

  “Have I told you lately how insanely beautiful you are?”

  I scan the room nervously.

  “It’s just me and you, babe.” His sexy lips turn up into a smile.

  “Stop it,” I huff out.

  “You know I can’t,” he shakes his head. “When it comes to you, I have no control.”

  “Well, find some.” I slap my palms against my desk and stand. “Listen, it’s the end of a very long day in an even longer week of what is probably the longest most torturous year of my life. Please. Just. Go.” My voice raises an octave as I fight back the tears that are threatening to spill out.

  Jackson reaches out and grabs my hand from across the desk. I feebly attempt to pull my hand from his grasp as his soft lips kiss the top of it.

  “Have a great weekend, Savannah.” His voice, all husky and seductive, does something crazy to my insides.

  “It’s Señora Sullivan,” I say weakly as I watch him, and I’m ashamed to say—his perfect ass, exit the room.

  Chapter Three

  “They hate me, Maddie,” I say over the loud country music as I take another sip of wine.

  Madison Tate has been my best friend my entire life. We’ve essentially lived parallel lives from the moment we were born, a mere month apart. Every step of my childhood from baby beauty pageants to Miss Teen South Carolina competitions have included Maddie by my side. We’re complete opposite in looks—she’s light skin, blue eyes and blonde hair, where I’m tan, dark hazel eyes and brunette—but, we’re identical in spirit. Both only children of highly respected parents in this town, she’s the only one that truly understands me. The other difference between us though is that her parents, though influential in this community, are much more easy going than mine.

  “They don’t, Savvy. They just hate Spanish.” She shrugs.

  “I’m beginning to despise it, too. The language of love brings me so much hate,” I sigh before gulping down the rest of the liquid in my glass.

  “Another?” Maddie waves across the bar to our server, motioning for another round of drinks.

  “I can’t. That was my third.”

  “It’s Friday night. Four glasses of wine is completely acceptable.”

  “You know my mother will hear about it.”

  “So what? You’re of age. It’s not like you’re dancing naked on the bar. I think it’s okay,” she says with an air of annoyance. “Sav, you need to move out of that house. Seriously. You’re an adult with a real job. Your parents need to loosen the reins a bit. Don’t you think?”

  “I know,” I say on a sigh. “You’re totally right. You know how they are with their gu
ilt trips, though. You still want to get a place together?”

  “You know it,” Maddie clinks her glass with mine.

  “I just need to get through this school year and then I’ll move out. Yet, I don’t know how I’m going to make it another month of teaching, let alone a lifetime. I suck.”

  “You definitely need some more wine,” Maddie chuckles. “You don’t suck. They always say your first year of teaching is the hardest. Next year will be better.”

  “It has to be.”

  “If not, you can always come and join the family business,” she raises her wine glass and with a scrunch of her eyebrows and a lower voice, says, “Tate Realty, where our goal is to make your dreams come true.”

  I let out a loud laugh, “Your dad knows how cheesy that is, right?”

  “I’ve told him,” she shakes her head with a chuckle. “Apparently over-the-top cheesiness sells.”

  “I’ll be right back.” I hop off my chair and head to the restroom.

  When I exit the bathroom, my mind’s hazy, but happy as I think about how fun it would be to live with Maddie. I gasp as arms wrap around my waist and pull me toward the back of the dark hallway.

  Blood rushes through my veins as my heart pounds beneath my chest. A firestorm of emotions crash down around me, yet the fiercest of them all is lust. I don’t have to see the man behind me to know who it is. I feel him. Breathe him. Know him. Like I have almost everyday for the past eight months.

  When we’ve reached the end of the hallway, he turns me in his arms as my back hits the wall. His gaze takes me in, leaving a trail of heat over every inch of skin it touches. He lifts his hand to my face and brushes his thumb across my cheek. I raise my hands to stop him, but he takes them both in his, and lifting them above my head, he holds them in a viselike grip against the wall.

  “Jackson,” I say in a pant, my voice betraying me.

  “Savannah,” he answers, his eyes searching mine.

  “Let me…you can’t…what are you doing here?” I stutter, trying to calm my racing heart.

  “I saw you come in here. I needed to see you. You drive me fucking insane, Savannah,” he says, his voice raspy as unadulterated want burns in his eyes.

  “I’m your teacher,” I breathe out. Dueling emotions weigh heavily on my mind. I’ve never wanted something so bad as I do Jackson and yet I’ve never feared anything as much either.

  Jackson has the power to destroy me, my career, and my family.

  “Let me go,” I whisper.

  “Let me kiss you,” he pleads, moving in closer so that his body is pressed against mine, allowing me to feel his heat.

  “I’m your teacher,” I choke out again, all other words escaping me.

  “I’m nineteen, Savannah. Three years stand between us. That’s nothing,” he says so close to my face that I can feel his warm breath on my skin. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I’ve thought about you night and day for eight months now. I want you so bad that it’s physically painful. I need you.” He rocks his hips into me and I have to stop the moan from escaping my throat. “I know you want me, too.”

  He leans in and presses his lips to my neck. My knees go weak and if it weren’t for his hands in mine holding me up, I’d surely crumble.

  “No,” I whisper weakly as his lips move up to my ear.

  “I’ll make you feel so good,” he says in a hushed voice, causing all of my remaining breath to whoosh out of me.

  Realization dawns, casting light over the heavy fog of lust that surrounds me. “No!” I yell firmly, ripping my hands from his grip and pushing him away from me.

  I’m his teacher. We’re in a public place. What am I doing?

  “I’ll graduate in a month’s time, Savannah. You’re only three years older. What’s it matter?”

  “God, Jackson. It matters!” My hands clench into fists and I jump at the sound of the nearby bathroom door closing. I glare at Jackson, “It matters,” I say once more before walking away.

  “Are you okay?” Maddie asks when I get back to the table.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I attempt to say with the cheeriest voice I can muster.

  “You’re all red.” She tilts her head to the side as if to take me in.

  I wave a hand nonchalantly through the air, “Oh, the wine,” I say as if that explains everything.

  I’m dying to tell Maddie about Jackson. I tell Maddie everything. She knows every little insignificant detail about my life. Yet, I can’t even tell my closest friend this secret. No one can ever know about my attraction to Jackson because it’s wrong, on so many levels.

  Jackson and I have had months of stolen glances and cautious flirting. He finds a way to touch me almost every class, whether his thumb brushes over my hand as he turns in an assignment or his arm rubs against mine as he casually walks by. Anyone watching wouldn’t expect a thing, but I know, and Jackson knows—that these small moments are intentional and more than that, desired.

  I live for them.

  I count down—or at least I used to—to the last period of the day where that one second of skin contact from Jackson shoots an energy and warmth through my body, sustaining me until I can feel it again the next day.

  I’m pathetic. I don’t know how I got here, but it doesn’t change the fact that I almost let Jackson, one of my students, kiss me in the hallway of the only bar in town.

  Lately though, Jackson has become more brazen. I’m terrified that someone is going to catch on and notice; report me even. I’ve come to dread my last class of the day. Jackson’s like a ticking time bomb of lust and I know that I’m at fault for his pending explosion. I should have shut him down on day one, but honestly I thought it was all in my head for the first few months. When I finally stopped denying our mutual attraction, it was too late. We were both too far gone.

  “Do you remember that kid, Jackson Hunt?” I ask Maggie because the desire to give voice to his name over-powers me.

  “You mean the Jackson that lives in the trailer park just outside of town? Of course. Remember when we were swimming in the lake behind James Dewitt’s farm and he threw that handful of mud in my face? I think we were like twelve. Ugh, I’ve hated him ever since. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, he’s in one of my classes. I couldn’t remember if I told you,” I shrug.

  “He’s still in school?” Maggie tilts her head as if trying to figure out something. “I thought…”

  I finish her thought. “Yeah, he’s nineteen…a senior. I guess he didn’t show for his third grade year, so he had to take it again.” I leave out the fact that I obtained that information by sneaking his file and reading it.

  “Not surprising. Is he like a total ass in class? Wait. Is he the reason that you hate this year so much? Is he being mean to you?” Maggie squints her eyes, pressing her mouth in a line.

  “No, he’s actually one of the nice kids.”

  “Really?” Maggie asks speculatively. “I guess it’s good that he even made it through school. I’m surprised he’s not already a drunk like his father.”

  “I think his dad left town years ago.”

  Maggie rolls her eyes, “Probably for the best.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  Chapter Four

  I made it to another Friday and with a semblance of grace, at that. Mr. Breyers popped into my 4th hour class on Tuesday for my final observation of the year. The lesson went well and the students behaved.

  Most importantly, nothing has come from the incident in the bar last week. I consider it nothing short of a miracle that the only people that know about a student’s lips on my neck are Jackson and me. Jackson has also backed off some in class, which I’m grateful for.

  Four more weeks.

  I just have to make it another month and this school year will be behind me. Then I’ll have almost three months to get my shit together before next year. I walk into my fifth hour and greet the class with an enthusiastic smile on my face. Fake it ‘til you make it is my new
mantra.

  From the moment I enter class I can feel his heated stare, no longer tampered down the way it’s been all week. No, this is full intensity Jackson. I let out a sigh. Why? I want to cry out because I’m just so tired of it all.

  Today’s lesson consists of a review of questions that one may need to ask if they are lost in a Spanish-speaking country. This is Spanish 101…my hopes aren’t high for this bunch, but maybe they’ll be able to find their way around the next time they are partying in another country.

  “I already know cerveza, Señora. I won’t need anything else. Well, maybe condón…but, I have that one down, too,” Jeremy, a school jock, announces after I’ve explained today’s lesson. His declaration is followed by a gale of laughter.

  I want to tell Jeremy that beer and condoms will probably be the highlight of his useless life since he doesn’t remotely apply himself to his academics and his football and basketball skills, although great here where he has limited competition, are less than mediocre when compared to the talent outside of this town. But, although I know where his life is heading…he has no clue. He might as well enjoy the last month of the best years of his life. It’s sad, really.

  “Humor me, Jeremy,” I say sweetly, sporting a big smile.

  Jackson says something to Jeremy under his breath. I don’t hear what was said, but a few students around them snicker.

  Jeremy’s face turns red. His eyes bulge as he pulls back his shoulders, puffing out his chest. “Shut the fuck up, trailer trash.” He glares at Jackson.

  I hastily step into the aisle between their desks and place my hand on Jackson’s before pulling it away, “That’s enough, everyone. Let’s get started.”

  The little verbal altercation between Jackson and Jeremy tampered the waves of heat that Jackson was sending my way. But, I still feel him throughout class. I have this almost visceral connection to him; my awareness of him is instinctual. It simply exists.