Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  Holy Hell, Leo Cling’s a man, a real man: strong, forceful, full of hot, manly, succulent guys-stuff.

  Marcus nods the best he can. Leo scowls at Lauren, “And for God’s sake, get some self-respect. What’s wrong with you?”

  As he releases Marcus, Lauren leaps to Marcus’ side, supporting him, being his crutch as they start toward the gate. I don’t see it, can’t see what he sees in her. Granted, she’s beautiful with her long, naturally curly blond hair. Her bluish-gray eyes are large, perfect for mascara and shadows. Yeah, she has a body that won’t quit; I’ve never seen real boobs that large on such a small frame before. Rumor has it that she’s even had a breast reduction, gone down two sizes, yet she still has enormous breasts. Amazing. So, fine, yeah, I guess I can see what he sees in her, but she’s an idiot. Fucking dumb as a broken doorknob. So dumb. The dumbest. She sleeps with married men, how can that be a turn on for anyone? Obviously, commitment and fidelity mean nothing to either of them. I continue staring at them, watching them, feeling the tears filling my eyes, threatening to spill over.

  Seconds before Marcus gets into the car, he turns, glares at me with all the hatred and venom in the world, and says, “This ain’t over, bitch. I’ll ruin you.” Then, Lauren and Marcus get into his car, and speed away, out of my life, for good.

  Watching them drive off, Leo places an arm around my shoulder, “Miss Garrity, are you okay? Can I do anything for you?”

  At that, the tears do spill over, and I begin sobbing. My entire body trembles with sadness, with fear, and with uncertainty. I can’t control the flooding of tears. Collapsing to the ground, Leo catches me, lifting me up like I’m weightless, and takes me into the pool house. Putting me down on the couch, he walks to the kitchen, opens the fridge, and gets me a bottle of water.

  I take the water, force a smile, and try to joke, “Thanks, but I’m going to need something a little stronger than that.” I try to laugh it off, but it turns into a whimper.

  Going to the kitchen, Leo begins opening cupboards, searching for remedies to ail my broken heart and shattered ego. Finding a bottle of wine and corkscrew, he opens the bottle, filling the Merlot to the crystal brim. Putting the glass on the bar, he motions for me to come sit. He sits opposite me, just watching me. I take a long dramatic drink of my wine, wanting to hide in it, drown in it, and just curl up and die in it. Everyone’s going to know about the shambles my marriage is in.

  Everyone.

  “Want to talk?” Innocence encompasses him; he’s patient and calm. Just minutes ago he had my husband in a choke-hold. What has my life become?

  “Nothing to talk about really. Age-old story,” I say, propping my feet on the chair next to me, turning my back on him, sipping my wine. “Girl marries guy. Guy sleeps with secretary. Girl leaves guy. Secretary gets the guy.” I feel so tired, so numb—but so embarrassed. How did my life change so quickly?

  “I’m sorry Miss Garrity,” he apologizes, spinning my chair back, so I’m face-to-face with him. “I know it doesn’t count for much, but I could never imagine wanting anyone else if you were my wife. That man lost his mind,” he replies, shaking his head in wonder. “He’ll regret this; he had the world. He had perfection at his fingertips. Now, he’s just settling for damaged, used-up trash.”

  When Leo was complimentary, he always blushed and looked away, as if he’d said too much. This time though, he doesn’t; he stares at me intently—making sure I’m holding on to his every word. I am too—every single syllable of every word. “I mean it too.”

  At that moment, I decide that I was born five years too early. Apparently, all the irresistible guys that are truly worth it were born five years after me. “Thanks Leo, I appreciate that. You’re a good guy. Thanks for helping me out there.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. Dicks like that have it coming,” he explains, anger flashing on his face. “Guys shouldn’t treat women that way—shouldn’t treat anyone that way.” Dropping his head, shaking it side to side, he adds, “I just don’t get why guys like that seem to get the best women.”

  Apparently, we aren’t talking about me anymore. The faraway look on his face tells me that someone else got Leo’s girl—someone who hadn’t deserved her. I remember that he had a girlfriend in high school. Kelsey? Kelsey somebody.

  “Leo, are you still with that Kelsey?” I ask, preferring to talk about him, not about my failed marriage.

  “Kelsey Galloway? Nah, age-old story,” he shoots back at me, with a pained smile on his face. “She wasn’t who I thought she was. We broke up my first year of college.” Wringing his hands, he slowly shakes his head, indicating that she’s nothing but a painful memory. I want to convince him to tell me more; I know he’s holding back. I tell him that he can trust me, confide in me. Hell, he just uncovered the most personal aspect of my life.

  “I guess I can disclose. You just told me something painful and personal. It’s only fair,” he concedes.

  Reluctantly, Leo relays the details of what happened with Kelsey. They’d dated their entire junior and senior years of high school. She was a nice girl, cute in a quirky way, extremely smart. They took things slowly, deciding that they were waiting until marriage (or until at least their engagement) to have sex. They spent the summer before college together every day. Leo wanted to let go of their vow; he wanted her, really wanted her in every sense of the word. It was getting harder every day to not have sex with her. He’d felt like she’d been teasing and tempting him all summer long.

  Once college started, he was at Miami, she at Cincinnati. He thought it was perfect that their colleges were so close together. They spent many weekends together, the temptation getting harder and harder. Finally, one day, nearly the end of their freshman year of college, she’d called him and told him that the next weekend she wanted him, was ready to take their relationship to the next level. He blushed telling me the next part of the story. His honesty’s so raw.

  I coaxed the rest of the story out of him. He had a hard time finding the words, barely able to make eye contact with me. It didn’t seem as if he was embarrassed, but as if it was still hard for him to talk about. He’d been carrying this pain, this heartache, with him for years.

  Ever since his senior year, he had been studying sex and the ways to make it better, more pleasurable for everyone. He wanted to make sure everything was perfect. He wanted to make sure he knew as much about sex as he knew about all other subjects he studied. Leo knew exactly what to do, how to do it, and where to do it. He couldn’t wait to finally apply his textbook knowledge to his actual girlfriend. An upperclassman buddy of his had gotten them a hotel room in Cincinnati. Leo pulled out all the stops. He had champagne, strawberries, room service, and bought her a beautiful nightie. He remembered music, bubbles for a bath, candles, flowers, everything. He wanted their first time to be special, memorable, wonderful. He even admitted bashfully that he had single-handedly taken care of himself a few times, to ensure that she enjoyed the evening for a prolonged period of time.

  When Kelsey arrived at the hotel, she took one look at him, at the room, at everything and just lost it. Sobbing, she admitted that she had slept with numerous men at college and had given her virginity to a stranger at a party. Leo was devastated. He’d loved and cherished her so much. She begged for forgiveness, which he quickly granted. After some talking, kissing, caressing, she began to undress him, and remove her own clothes. Leo looked at her, despite how much he loved her, he knew then that she wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to give himself to her; she didn’t deserve him. He stopped her. They talked for a while, ate their cooling dinner, and then he took her back to her dorm. He said that they stayed friendly, but not close. Apparently, she’d gotten pregnant her senior year, didn’t finish her degree, and married the father. They were living in Mason, Cincinnati, somewhat happily.

  Smiling awkwardly, he adds, “Ah well, I’ll know better for next time.”

  Obviously, I know what he means, but I refuse to believe my ears. Leo’
s textbook hot—like Webster’s definition of in the raw flesh—hot. “Um, Leo, do you mean that you never, like since then, got to, you know?”

  Holy shit, did I really just ask my student that?

  “Nope. I forced myself to get really into school and crew. I didn’t want get hurt like that again. I just steered clear.” God, it sounds like he’s making a confession—to me of all unholy people. His remorse and shame is evident.

  “Leo, I think that’s fine, wonderful even. Waiting is great. More people should take sex so seriously.” Suddenly feeling very guilty for my recent escapades with Briggs, I break eye contact with Leo, hiding my embarrassment. I’m going to have to stop that nonsense with the Dark Fantasy. Nothing good can come of it, anyway.

  “Uh… no… Miss Garrity, I’m not waiting. Believe me. I just haven’t put much effort into women since then. I figured I’d finish school, get a good job, buy a house, get settled, and then start looking for the perfect woman. Someone I could trust, who wouldn’t just crush my heart for sport.” Damn, this kid is so certain of his future, of his plans. I should take lessons from him.

  “Well based on what you told me earlier. You’re moving right along your checklist.” I’m proud of him, rather inspired by him to be honest.

  “Yep, now I just need to find my perfect woman, someone who knows how fragile the heart is and how easily it can be broken.” He looks at me, seriously looks at me, smiles his dimpled grin and stands up. “Thanks for talking, for listening. If that bastard comes back here, let me know, okay?” Leo leans in and hugs me casually and awkwardly before he leaves.

  Alone, I sit on the chair, refilling my wine and ruminating all that had just occurred. I feel terribly for Leo. Kelsey surely doesn’t deserve Leo; he’s a great guy and deserves so much more. I should fix him up with someone. Char? Oh Christ no! She’d eat him alive. She would definitely let him try out his sexual expertise on her, though. She’d be his naked and willing guinea pig, who’d squeal all night for him. No! Char’s too much for him. He needs someone though, someone perfect.

  Suddenly, the word “perfect” rings in my ear like a giant bell slamming repeatedly into a bass drum. Leo Cling had called me “perfect” earlier? What in the world did he mean by that?

  I SPENT THE rest of the evening relaying the entire day to Char. It seemed like every story topped the one before it. I wanted to use our “Armageddon” code on her, but didn’t want to overdo it. Twice in three days was over the top. So, I settled for a lengthy phone conversation, while I finished off the bottle of wine Leo opened earlier for me. One thing is for certain, Marcus’ adultery is turning me in to a lush. I never drink this much, just another thing to be more pissed off about.

  “So, who’s it gonna be?” Char asks, excitedly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Briggs the well-hung, godlike athlete or Leo the wholesome hero? Which one are you going to sleep with first? Which one gets to forage the cobwebs and find your ‘slippery when wet’ love canal?” she questions, giggling like a school girl until she starts choking on her own laughter. Char is her own biggest fan.

  Char is totally fucking serious right now, not kidding at all. Char really believes in her heart of hearts that I have a choice to make, when there’s truly no decision to make. Briggs and I just had a little fun, teaching and learning. Leo’s our landscaper who just so happened to be at the right place at the right time.

  “Forget it Char; it’s not like that.” Knowing that she doesn’t believe me, I add, “Please don’t ever refer to my vag as a place with cobwebs that needs foraging again.”

  Char’s problem is that if she has any interest in a guy, that interest comes straight from the hot spot between her legs. “However,” I continue, “you’ll be happy to know that I’m 100% done with Marcus. When he left with Lauren today, every feeling I’ve ever felt for him was gone. Vanished. Done.” I’m not even trying to convince myself; it’s true. He’s nothing to me anymore. Nothing.

  “Who? I don’t even want to hear his prickless name again.” Char yells. Just mentioning him or Lauren puts her over the edge. I just pray that she runs into them someday, someday when I’m not around. That’ll be a story I’ll gladly listen to on repeat with a tub of hot buttery popcorn and Twizzlers.

  Later, just as I’m about to fall asleep, I decide that I’m going to lie low for a bit, get some writing done, and finish unpacking all of my junk. Rick and Dave are due to get my stuff in a few days; I have a lot to go through, some purging as well. I also need to steer clear of Briggs for a bit, give us some space. Naturally, Char thinks I’m being crazy, but there are definitely things to think about, to consider. What things? I’m not sure. I need a few days, some time alone, to figure it all out. I know I want Briggs, truly want my legs wrapped around him like vice. My body’s aching for him; honestly my body’s pissed at me for not riding him every chance I get. But, I have to be smart about this, think it through. However, it seems like that’s all I ever do lately, think about Briggs. And well, I don’t want to admit it, really don’t want to admit it, but since this afternoon, my mind has wandered a bit to Leo as well. Damn Char. Is she ever wrong? Can I ever fool her?

  THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY, I’d promised Jocelyn that I’d watch the twins, Kara and Carlee, while she got her hair done. The boys, my nephews, would be at a weekend soccer camp, so it would be a girls-only bonding day. Being a teacher, everyone always seems to think that means you’d love to babysit their kids during the day in the summer. Not true, but I do love spending time with my nieces. Six-year-old little girls are the best. They’re smart, funny, girly, and just the right amount of obnoxious.

  I got up early and ran to the store to get things to bake with them; they love baking. I stopped and picked up some new nail polishes and hair bows, headbands, and other hair accessories. I also bought all the ingredients for many different flavors of Smoothies. We love Smoothies, always have them when we’re together. I want to make sure that we fill the day with as much fun as I can fit in to the babysitting timeslot.

  Thankfully, I convinced Jocelyn to meet a friend for lunch and shop a little before coming back to get them. She always needs coaxing into leaving her kids. I used to think that she lost a lot of her identity when she became a wife and mother, but the reality is that she gained her identity when she married Rick and had four kids. She waited her whole life to be a wife and a mother. And a wonderful mother and wife she is.

  When the girls arrive, their tunnel vision only focuses on the pool. I’m powerless against the call of the water. I can’t compete at all. Makeovers, manicures, pedicures, and cupcake decorating and baking are officially losing out to the chilly enticement of the pool and the lure of the slide and diving board.

  Today is about to turn into a relaxing day by the pool, watching my fish-like nieces frolic in the water, while I bask in the sunlight. I thank God that Jocelyn is an overprotective, “danger-freak” mother and insisted that the girls take swimming lessons for four straight summers and even two winters. These girls could give Ariel a run for her money in the water. Ironically, they’re both wearing Ariel bathing suits, in different colors. Jocelyn hates when twins wear the exact same clothing. She typically “rebels” against the rules of twinsiness by dressing them in the same outfits, but in different colors. She believes that makes all the difference. Nobody can tell her otherwise.

  I grab the rafts, balls, and water noodles and throw an armful of pool fun into the water. The girls are dying to get in, but at Jocelyn’s insistence, I have to slather them in a thick coating of 500-proof sunscreen first. This coming from the same girl who used to cover herself in baby oil and lie lifeless on a raft in the sun for hours is none too shocking and annoying to say the least. Parenthood, it changes people.

  Just as they’re about to get in the water, I hear, “You should wear sunblock too.” My stomach flutters at his voice. I turn to see Leo staring solemnly at me.

  “Nah, I like the sun-kissed look.” I respond, smiling and
dismissing him.

  Either not caring or not hearing me, Leo picks up the sunscreen, squeezes it into his hands, and motions for me to turn around, “I’m not going to get into a discussion about the dangers of UV rays, sun damage, and skin cancer. It blows my mind people still don’t use this crap. It’s so easy to not die.” Leo isn’t really talking to me, more like to himself, but I do exactly as he instructs.

  Leo begins rubbing the lotion onto my shoulders and down my back. His hands are strong and firm on my soft skin. My arms pebble with goose bumps as he rubs the sunscreen in. Dumbfounded, I continue to allow him to coat my body in sunscreen, reveling in the feelings that are overtaking my body. Shivers travel the length of my back.

  Grabbing the tube again, Leo squirts more into his hands, rubs them together, and then massages the lotion into my arms, down to my wrists. The sensation is soothing and tantalizing, putting me at ease. I can’t lie, I enjoy his hands on my back and arms, even welcome it. After the incident the other day, I feel safe around Leo. I don’t move; I stand, allowing him to take care of me in the sun.

  In my reverie and relaxed state, I didn’t realize he’d gotten more lotion. When Leo begins rubbing the lotion into the back of my thighs, I quiver as his movements send waves of excitement throughout my body, especially heightening the electricity between my legs. Feeling weak in the knees, I have great difficulty standing up, trying to support my weight. He moves to the backs of my knees, a very sensitive and thrilling spot for me. Without warning or control, I sigh, more like moan at the touch of his hands. If he’s applying it, then sunscreen is about to become my new daily ritual. Holy Hell.

  Leo stands abruptly, wipes his hands on my towel, and says, “There you go. I need to go pick up the mulch.”

  And he leaves.

  Just like that.

  I feel strange, rather embarrassed by the events that just transpired. I thought that… I’m not sure what I thought, but it didn’t play out like I’d imagined. Did I imagine? Crap. I don’t know anything anymore. I decide to put lotion on the front of my body, down my legs, on my arms, and on my stomach. With the crap-ton of sunblock on my back, my tanlines will be crazy uneven if I don’t at least put some on my front. Applying the sunscreen to the front of my body is not nearly as titillating when I’m doing the application myself, I lament.