by Anthology
Arleen smirks, and I continue. “Condom or not, it’s going to happen. You can’t be naïve to the situation.” I look at the clock and realize my five minutes are almost up. “In conclusion, what I’m telling you is this: We knew about sex long before you wanted us to. Some of us chose to wait. Some of us chose to share it with the person they thought they were in love with.” I hesitate and clear my throat. “And some of us chose to be douchebags.”
I look down and state my final case firmly: “Making contraception available to us is the only responsible thing to do. Whether you like it or not.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I wish I could say I went back to the hotel room that night with a big fat trophy in my hand. Seems the judges weren’t so impressed with my stories of promiscuity and distasteful language choices.
I still say I was a bit cheated.
But it doesn’t matter because Arleen isn’t upset with me, Miss Shields isn’t on my mind every second of the day, and I actually have a new goal: college.
“I’m exhausted,” Arleen sighs, plopping down on the bed and covering herself with the comforter.
“Me too. And even though I lost the debate,” I say with an exaggerated roll of my eyes and a chuckle, “I’m glad I’m here with you.”
She smiles. “Well, it’s back to reality tomorrow. We have a nine-hour bus ride home, and it’s back to school on Monday.”
“Then I suggest,” I slide in next to her and crawl under the covers, “that we turn off the lights and pretend we’re back at the ruins.”
My kiss starts at her neck as I nibble my way up to her ear.
“It’s about damn time,” she mumbles.
“What?”
She laughs. “Well, you were in this bed with me all last night and you didn’t touch me once!” She playfully smacks my arm.
I snort. “Did you not listen to a word I said at the podium today?” I continue laughing as she wraps her arms around me.
“Yeah. I heard a few sentences. But I was more concerned with the fact that your fly was down.” She snickers.
“It wasn’t. Oh, God. Was it?”
She nods and tries to mask her smile. “Kind of discredited what you were trying to say altogether.”
“And here I thought I’d tanked the debate because I was losing my touch.”
“Oh no, Simon.” She looks down shyly. “Please don’t lose that.”
I see that familiar second-base signal as her hand wraps around mine and inches up her shirt.
No. I retreat my arms and inch away from her slowly. “Don’t, Arleen.”
Her head dips down and she starts tugging at her bottom lip. She’s frowning, and I feel another stab of guilt.
She feels rejected.
“Listen to me, Arleen. I get it. Believe me, I completely understand. Because I want to. So much. But you have to understand, I don’t want to take advantage of this—of you. I’ve waited my whole life to feel the way you make me feel, and I’m not about to jeopardize this.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I’m not ready, anyway.”
I nod and exhale deeply. “Good.”
“But can we make one more rule?”
I smirk and turn my head toward her. “Another rule?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. What’s the rule?”
“That we speak to each other at school, we continue to meet at the ruins, and you take me to Homecoming in three weeks.”
“Come on, Arleen! I was going to ask you anyway! Why do you have to make me look like even more of a dick?” I laugh.
“Well, isn’t this your first time? I’ll forgive you this once.” She pulls me back under the covers with her and giggles.
“My first time?” I stammer.
She bites her bottom lip and then gives me a small, lingering kiss. “Your first girlfriend?”
I kiss her again, but with much more intensity. I pull her closer to me, and her body warms underneath my touch. “Yes,” I say, taking a breath. “You’re my first.”
The End
Teach Me: Part 1
By
Elle Bright
History was for people who lived in the past.
At least, that’s how Savannah felt about the pointless subject. She had a plan, every step between there and medical school carefully calculated. And the only reason American Civilizations had weaseled its way into her jam-packed schedule was its ability to meet her general education requisite for her undergraduate degree.
So there she sat, the first day of her freshman year, waiting for the sixty minutes of slow torture to begin. At least she only had the ridiculous class every other day. But even that was too often for her liking.
They still had a few minutes before class was scheduled to begin and their professor was nowhere to be seen, so the mob of students around her chattered amongst themselves, regaling tales of their summer adventures and enthusing over the ‘Welcome Week’ activities the university’s Student Activities Council had planned. With an inward eye roll at their vapid ramblings, Savannah fished the massive history textbook out of her backpack, plopped it on the desk in front of her, and waited patiently for class to start.
It’s not that she didn’t like her classmates. On the contrary, she didn’t know a single one of them. She didn’t need to. For they were certain to be the same empty-headed, social-hierarchy-obsessed people she’d been surrounded by her whole life. She’d never belonged, never been one of them. People like them lived for sex, parties, and fun – the now. But much like the past, the present was of little interest to Savannah. All she cared about was the future. And thanks to a lot of hard work on her part, it was brighter than ever. All she had to do was survive her ridiculous general education requirements.
Her best friend, Julie, always teased her that she was a little, old spinster woman, trapped in a young adult’s body. Most teens might take that as an insult. To Savannah, it was an enormous compliment. She was mature for her age, responsible. She didn’t need juvenile exploits to have fun. Besides, fun was severely overrated.
The bell rang and their teacher strolled out of the office at the front of the classroom. He was a sight to be seen. Tall, with broad shoulders suited more for contact sports than academia. Casually tousled, short blonde locks the color of honey, mussed by absent minded finger strokes. And bright cornflower eyes, bluer than the clearest of skies, set in a tanned, chiseled face Michelangelo would’ve killed to paint. A face she would’ve recognized blindfolded.
Savannah nearly fell out of her chair. Jake?
Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird on a sugar high as he strode to the front of the classroom, his gait confident and relaxed. What in the name of everything good and holy was he doing there?
When she’d signed up for American Civilizations with ‘Dr. Anderson’ as the teacher, Savannah pictured ‘Dr. Anderson’ as a stuffy, old man with leather patches on his tweed jacket sleeves. Or at least a frumpy old woman with the waist of her skirt hitched beneath saggy, pendulous breasts. But no, apparently ‘Dr. Anderson’ was Dr. Jake-freaking-Anderson.
Savannah didn’t have a childhood memory without Jake in it. He’d been her older brother Preston’s best friend and partner in crime long before she’d graduated from diapers. The guy had practically lived at their house growing up. And, even though she’d only been a kid back then, she’d been head over heels in love with him for just about every single second of that time.
That was, of course, until Preston got hurt. And Jake disappeared forever.
Ten years. Savannah hadn’t seen or heard from Jake in ten long years. But there he stood at the front of her classroom, just as perfect and overwhelmingly male as she remembered. More so even. For eight-year-old Savannah couldn’t quite appreciate the raw masculinity Jake exuded. But eighteen-year-old Savannah still felt every single butterfly of youthful infatuation, only with a womanly appreciation completely foreign to her. One look at him sent those butterflies fluttering low into her belly
. Maybe ‘the now’ wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Regardless, one fact became absolutely, one hundred percent certain – history just became a lot more interesting.
***
Jake gathered his notes from his desk and tapped the stack of papers into alignment. Nervous anticipation filled him. His first day as an adjunct professor. His first class of his very own. Deep breaths. He could do this. This is what he’d worked for all those years. He’d survived years of school and a beastly doctoral dissertation. He could teach. He could make an impact. He could share his love of history with the next generation.
Adjusting the knot of his tie, he rolled his tense shoulders back and stepped out into the lecture hall. A crowd of rowdy young people in their late teens and early twenties filled the ascending rows of desks. Jake cleared his throat and waited as all heads turned his way. Young faces looked to him in expectation. He smiled, channeling all the confidence he could muster.
“Hi. Welcome to History 1700, American Civilizations. I’m Dr. Anderson. I have an exciting year planned for all of you as we discuss some of the greatest moments in our nation’s history.”
A dainty hand shot up in the front row, drawing his gaze. Jake’s eyes followed the hand to its owner and almost dropped his notes. Damn. Since when did college coeds look like that? He was a teacher. He was a professional. But he wasn’t dead. And when the stunning brunette, with big doe-like eyes and long, flowing tresses, smiled at him with the most kissable lips he’d ever seen, it was his professionalism that became history.
He cleared his throat in an effort to mask his reaction and nodded in her direction with a tight-lipped smile. “Yes, Miss…?”
He would’ve sworn the brunette’s eyes danced with laughter at his discomfort.
“Bradshaw, Savannah Bradshaw.”
Jake’s heart stalled in his chest at the name. Savannah Bradshaw.
No way. Surely he’d recognize her. After all, his ex-best friend’s kid sister had followed the two of them around like a puppy dog for years. Hell, she’d practically been a sister to him. With a shitty excuse for a home life, he’d spent more time at their house than his own. The Bradshaws had welcomed him with open arms and given him the childhood he’d never dared imagine. Until the accident changed everything. Until Preston told him to go away and never come back.
The stunning young woman in front of him couldn’t possibly be Savannah. The Savannah he remembered was gangly and awkward, a tomboy with braided hair and scraped up knees. Playing the part of big brother, he’d kissed those knees countless times. One look at those long, smooth limbs, crossed primly beneath the skirt of her sundress, made it clear those knees could not be kissed so innocently anymore. And the thoughts running through his mind were far from brotherly. More importantly, they were far from teacherly. If he hoped to claim one of the coveted tenure-track positions, he needed to get his head on straight. And not that head.
He swallowed hard in an attempt to clear the tightness from his throat. He struggled to focus on her words as she questioned the necessity of the recommended supplementary texts. Jake mentally clapped himself on the back when he successfully formulated a coherent answer and managed to dive into the syllabus without missing a step.
An attractive coed was an irrelevant distraction, one easily overcome with as little as an ounce of professionalism. But a constant reminder of a past life lost, of sins long forgotten, was not so easily dismissed. It seemed fate had a cruel sense of humor. And some history was meant to be revisited, no matter how painful.
***
Dropping her weighted backpack onto the floor next to the small built-in desk, Savannah snagged the cordless phone from the cradle and punched in the all-too-familiar number before she could change her mind. Already bone-tired from a long first day of classes, the idea of phoning home was beyond exhausting. But, she needed to make the obligatory call, so she could focus on her assigned reading without the distracting guilt not calling would surely cause.
“Hey, Mom,” Savannah greeted flatly when her mother picked up on the sixth ring.
“Hey, Vanna. How was your first day?” Her mother’s voice sounded strained and distracted, as always. No surprise there. Yet, Savannah would get an earful the next time she called if she dared skip a week. Go figure.
“It was great,” she answered half-heartedly. Not that it wasn’t. She actually enjoyed all her classes. One in particular a bit more than expected. But her mom didn’t really care. It was small talk, nothing more. No point in throwing unnecessary enthusiasm around.
“That’s nice, honey,” her mother responded absently. Savannah would bet her entire undergraduate tuition that her mother would’ve replied the same way if she’d told her she’d burnt the math building down. Nothing.
“Um… do you remember Preston’s old friend, Jake?”
Silence on the other end. No more rustling as her mother multitasked. Not even the sound of her breathing. Nothing. Now her mother was listening. Odd.
Savannah opened her mouth to press the subject, but thought better of it. It was the first time her mother had shown any interest in anyone other than Preston since the accident. Best let her take the lead.
Her mother finally exhaled a long, ragged breath.
“Yes.” The word was spoken with caution, slow and drawn out, with a question mark at the end, as though her mother was about to tiptoe through a mine field blindfolded and wanted to know if she really had to.
Curiosity piqued, Savannah pressed on. “Well, he’s my history professor.”
“Is it too late to transfer to a different class?”
“Um, why on earth would I do that? Jake is an amazing teacher. He’s so… so… passionate about the subject matter. I think I might actually enjoy this class.” Warmth flooded her cheeks at the thought of the unspoken reasons she would thoroughly enjoy every last second of history class. Her mother didn’t need to know how much she loved watching Jake pace the floor as he lectured. She didn’t need to know how the rich, husky timbre of his voice left Savannah spellbound. Irrelevant details, nothing more.
“Stay away from that boy, Savannah,” her mother snapped with more passion than Savannah had heard in over a decade.
“He’s hardly a boy, Mom,” Savannah protested, taken aback by the venom in her mother’s tone. “He’s a grown man with a PhD.”
“I don’t care if he’s the Dali Llama or the President of the United States. Jake Anderson is nothing but trouble.”
Grateful her mother couldn’t see her through the phone, Savannah gave that comment the great, big eye roll it deserved. Parents and their dramatics. “Geez, Mom. How much trouble do you really think a pre-med student on an academic scholarship can get into in history class? I have no intention of doing anything but studying and getting good grades.”
“Then I don’t see why you couldn’t do it here at home,” her mother argued for the millionth time.
Savannah sighed. ‘Because living with you and Preston was toxic and I couldn’t breathe’, didn’t seem like the smartest answer, so she stuck with the usual. “You know why, Mom. This school has the highest acceptance rate for my top medical school choices.”
“There are perfectly good schools here at home,” her mother bristled.
“I know, but I’m where I need to be,” Savannah assured her. She couldn’t bite back the retort on the tip of her tongue any longer, acerbically adding, “Come on, Mom. Be honest for a minute. You haven’t even noticed I’m gone.”
It was a low blow, for sure, but the truth of this statement twisted like a knife in Savannah’s chest. Ever since the accident, she’d been invisible in her own home. It was almost like she’d died when Preston’s truck hit that tree. But she hadn’t. She was very much alive and very much aware of her insignificance in a home that revolved around her brother’s twenty-four hour convalescent care.
“That’s not true,” her mother half-heartedly protested.
It wasn’t worth arguing, so Savannah remained silent.<
br />
“I miss you, baby,” her mother added absently.
“I miss you too, Mom,” Savannah sighed. And she did. She missed her mother with every inch of her heart. Just not the woman she’d left behind in Spring Valley. She missed the one she’d lost the night Preston lost control of his body from the neck down.
“I’ve got to go. Preston needs me.”
Savannah wanted to scream that she needed her too. But it wouldn’t do any good. And it wasn’t true, not anymore anyway. She didn’t. She may as well have been orphaned at eight years old, because she’d been on her own ever since. She’d learned to fend for herself. She didn’t need anyone or anything anymore. Savannah smiled sadly at her empty dorm room. “I’m sure he does. Tell him ‘hi’ for me. Bye, Mom.”
Click.
Savannah listened absently to the beep, beep, beep of the dial tone for several minutes before she remembered to click the end button on the phone. She stared blankly at the bare walls of her dorm. Nothing in the room. Nothing on the now silent phone line. Nothing in her life but text books and plans for the future. Emptiness all around her. Just like the emptiness inside her heart.
***
Tires squealing. Voices shouting. The moment of impact. Airbags exploding. Glass shattering and metal crumpling like paper as Preston’s prized truck wrapped itself around the tree like an aluminum can shot out of a canon. Then silence, nothing but the same innocuous song playing on the radio as it had before the crash.
Every inch of Jake hurt. But he was alive and he could feel the pain. His pulse thundering in his ears, he turned to glance across the cab at Preston. Pinned, beneath mangled metal, his best friend wasn’t moving. Slowly, Preston’s head rolled to the side to glare at him.
“You did this to me. This is all your fault,” his best friend accused, hate glowing in his dark eyes.
