Rewriting History

by Missy Johnson

  “Sorry, Samantha, we both know I’m unable to offer you a ride home. Can I call your mother or someone for you instead?” I ask politely.

  She huffs and shakes her head before stalking away, leaving me standing there shaking my head.

  ***

  I walk into his room, my eyes falling on the frail frame hunched over on the bed. He’s sitting up. That’s something. He glances over, his eyes meeting mine.

  “You came.”

  I resist the urge to shake my head at his indifferent tone. Instead, I move over to the chair a few feet from the bed and sit down, pulling my legs under me. I watch as he reaches for his robe, struggling to thread his arms through. I look down, focusing on a tiny loose thread in the beige carpet, the only sound being the occasional grunt or gasp from him. I lean forward and pick up the tissue that has fallen to the floor

  “Thanks,” he mumbles.

  “So, how are you feeling?” I ask.

  He shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Not bad. The worst part is how tired I feel. The girls won’t let me do much other than rest.”

  I nod, trying to think of what else to say. “Your classes are fine. Though I do wonder about a couple of them. I don’t think I’d be surprised if they ended up on America’s Most Wanted in a few years.”

  He chuckles and nods. “There’s always a few, huh? But then they’re usually the ones who surprise you the most.” He hesitates, before adding; “You’ve been keeping away from Jill, haven’t you?”

  My jaw clenches. I knew she would come up in our conversation. “I told you I would, didn’t I?” I snap.

  “Eli,” he sighs. “Why don’t I believe you? You have no idea what kind of trouble you’re setting yourself up for. You can’t have a relationship with Jill when you’re a teacher at the school. Jesus Christ, why are you setting yourself up to get a bad rep against your name? I’m telling you... this will ruin your hard work.”

  I laugh. I can’t believe this. I can’t have this conversation with him again.

  “Look, I have to go.” I stand up and rub my jaw, working hard to stem my anger. “I’ll drop by in a few days,” I mutter.

  He nods, eyeing me with suspicion. He accused me of lying to him and I didn’t bother to address that, because at this point I don’t care. Whatever he thinks of me and Jill, I just don’t care. He lost the right to have input in my life a long time ago.

  Why is it so hard for me to have a civil conversation with Dad? Things are worse now that he knows about Jill. The fact that I ended things doesn’t matter. I was still with a student, and for whatever reason he thinks he’s better than me now? He’s fucked up so many things in my life, and no matter what I do I just can’t get past that. Whenever I’m near him it’s a constant reminder of the hell he put both me and Mom through for someone a year or two older than me.

  Maybe I’m so angry because the reason I hate him so much is something I’m doing myself, with Jill. I’m a fucking hypocrite.

  I hear the door open and close and Mel sits next to me. She glances at me, worried, and places a hand on my shoulder.

  “What’s wrong, Eli? It’s more than Dad, isn’t it?”

  “It’s nothing that won’t sort itself out,” I mutter. Can you imagine Mel’s reaction if I told her how deep I was with a student? The psychologist in her would have a field day with that one.

  “Are you having money problems? I can lend you money if you need it,” she offers.

  I laugh. God, if only it were money troubles.

  “No, I’m not having money issues. It’s girl troubles.” Letting out a breath, I look back toward the street. “I like her so much, but I’m not sure how things will be perceived. That’s what is bothering me.”

  “If there’s anything I’ve learned about relationships, it’s that you’re never going to make everybody happy. The best advice I can give you is to do what’s best for you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks. If you love this woman, let her know that and hold onto her. Fuck what everyone else thinks.” She wraps her arms around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze.

  I regret not spending more time with my sisters.

  ***

  “Hey, Mom.” I speak through the phone with my mouth full of cold leftover pizza.

  “Eli, so good to hear from you—although I taught you better than to talk with your mouth full, didn’t I?” Mom laughs. “I miss having you home. How’s my boy?”

  “Good. How are you?” I ask, realizing how much I miss her. After looking after her for so long, we have an extremely strong bond. “How’s Kenny? Did he take you away for your anniversary?”

  “He sure did. He took me to Hawaii and we stayed in this beautiful hotel. It had its own private nude beach and everything. It was so much fun.” She giggles.

  “Way too much information, Mom,” I groan, closing my eyes. That is an image I never want in my head again. “But seriously, I’m so glad you had a great time.”

  “What’s happening with you? How’s work?”

  “Yeah, it’s all right.” I sigh, because I can’t believe I’m about to ask her this. “Can I get your honest opinion on something, Mom? I really don’t know what to do.” I’m not sure asking Mom for her advice is a good idea, but I’m going to roll with it, because at least I know there will be no judgment.

  I fill Mom in on Jill, and she stays silent the whole time.

  “After what Dad did to you, I made a promise to myself that I’d never be like him. This whole debacle is tearing me up.” I let out a big sigh. “I mean . . . I didn’t even meet her as a student, and that’s what makes this so hard.”

  This conversation is embarrassing. It’s not the sort of talk you have with your mother.

  “I think she’s it for me,” I state with finality.

  Mom is quiet for a good moment. I give her time to let it sink in.

  Finally, she speaks. “I don’t know what to say. I mean, the right thing for me to say as your mother is to stop seeing this girl.” She pauses. “But I can tell how much you care about her. Do what makes you happy Eli.”

  Do what makes me happy? Jill makes me happy, there’s no doubt about that. Her advice nearly mirrors what Mel told me. Talking to Mom definitely gave me more perspective on what to do. I feel much better now.

  Lying in bed, I flick through the photos on my phone. I come across the photo I took of Jill at the Spanish restaurant. She didn’t see me take the photo. Her head is turned to the side and her big eyes are trained on the artwork on the wall. Her hair is flowing over her shoulder and her mouth is slightly open as she bites on one side of her bottom lip. She’s so beautiful. Her plump lips beg to be kissed and bitten, and that mouth screams to be ravished.

  Pulling my hardened shaft out of my boxers, I start stroking the tip slowly, imagining myself fucking Jill’s mouth. I throw my head back on the pillow and close my eyes, my breathing getting quicker.

  Tightening my grip and working my full length, I think back to when we were alone in my office. That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. She looked so young and innocent as I grabbed tightly on her hair, forcing my dick down her throat and the way she stared up at me as she swallowed my load . . .

  “Fuck yes,” I moan as I release onto my stomach.

  I’ve made the decision that I need to patch things up with Jill. I can’t be without her. To see her around school every day and not be able to touch her is hell, but to not be with her after school and on the weekends—it’s fucking unbearable.

  We just need to be careful.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jill

  “The American Civil War lasted from 1861 to 1865. Seven Southern states declared their succession from the United States . . .” I’m not focused and am thinking about our argument. We’ve only texted since I left his house on Sunday night. I was so mad—absolutely livid would be an understatement—and I still am.

  How can he just switch our relationship on and off when it’s fucking convenient? He’s supposed
to be the mature one, but it isn’t feeling like it.

  “Jill,” Eli’s voice booms through my daze.

  Perking up, I notice Eli looking at me with a frown. The entire class has their eyes on me. “Sorry, I missed your question,” I say. Jesus, Jill . . . focus.

  “I asked, in 1880, which president opposed the expansion of slavery into US Territories?”

  “Abraham Lincoln,” I reply quickly.

  Eli sports a small smile and continues his lesson, questioning other students. Thank God I had read the book Battle Cry of Freedom by C. Vann Woodward, which we were required to do over the break.

  My phone is sitting in between my thighs, and it vibrates. I position my laptop so no one will see me checking my message—especially Eli; I don’t want to give him reason to focus on me.

  Alice: Hey bitch face. I’m coming to see you this weekend. Get ready to par-tay!

  The text has made my day. I miss Alice, and having her here will give me the chance to tell her every little detail. She may act like she works in a whorehouse, but really she gives good, level-headed advice and always seems to know just what to say.

  I make my way to the hot section of the cafeteria, where the lady behind the counter places soup on my tray. I thank her with kind eyes and grab a chocolate muffin, and then take a seat at a table with no students seated at it. I reach for the muffin I know I shouldn’t be eating and begin to unwrap it.

  “Hey Jill, you sure you wanna do that? You look like you’ve packed on a few pounds. You’re not pregnant, are you?” Jamie yells from behind me. Students laugh and I lift my finger and flip him the bird, pretending his words don’t get to me.

  Fucking asshole.

  Out of nowhere, a female voice yells back, “Jamie, tu es completement débile. Remember the time you tried to fuck me but couldn’t get it up? If she is pregnant, I think we could all be pretty confident the baby isn’t yours, no?”

  His dark eyes narrow on her, then me, before he stalks off, flinging his whole tray into the bin. Sophia slides into the seat next to me. I stare at her, shocked that such venom came from her, and I’m wondering if what she said about them hooking up is true. My mouth must be hanging open, because she rolls her eyes and laughs.

  “Jill, close your mouth. You will catch the flies,” she says slowly, her accent thick.

  I turn to face her, still in shock. “What did you call him?” I giggle.

  “A moron.” She waves her hand.

  “Thank you for sticking up for me. I usually just ignore him.”

  “Don’t ignore him—stand up to him. He’s not worth your time.”

  “What happened?” I ask curiously. “Did you really—”

  “Gosh no, give me some credit.” She laughs. “Even I have standards, yes?” She shrugs dismissively, but I can tell she’s holding back on something—especially from the way Jamie stormed off. “His whole family is not nice people, but he can’t treat you like that.”

  I would love to stand up to him, but I don’t know what he knows about me and Eli.

  It’s unnerving and I don’t want to ruin our chance of being together, let alone anyone’s career. But then I think, this is Jamie. If he did know something, surely he’d have used that to his advantage by now.

  “Do you want to come to a party on Saturday night? I was invited by this boy that I quite like.” Sophia breaks off part of my muffin and puts it in her mouth.

  “I would, but my best friend is here for the weekend and we’re spending Saturday night together,” I say, glad I can use Alice as an excuse. I’m not really the party kind of girl—especially after last time.

  “Well, bring her along. We all like to party, yes?” God, I love her accent. Her big blue eyes grow wide as she smiles, waiting for me to answer.

  I sigh, because I can tell she really wants me to go and I hate the thought of letting her down. “Sure, why not?” I give in. “I’ll run it past Alice.”

  I already know for a fact that Alice will be up for a party. She is the queen of having fun. I’ll probably spend most of the night alone once Alice sets her eyes on some guy to screw her senseless—she’s been especially horny since starting at boarding school.

  ***

  We sit on the grassy area above the bleachers, watching a group of seniors play football. Eli is out there too, and for once I can watch him without worrying that someone is going to notice.

  Sophia shakes her head and laughs. “Just tell him you want to talk. I’m sorry, but you’re both acting like little children.”

  I know she’s right, but the problem is we are both stubborn. I look up and see him staring at me. I look away, focusing back on tearing little blades of grass out from the ground beneath me. I hate fighting with him, but I can’t handle this on-again, off-again bullshit. Either he’s with me or he isn’t. It’s that simple.

  Five minutes later, my phone buzzes. I look up and see that Eli has gone from the field.

  Eli: I want to see you tonight. I miss you. I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t want us to be over; I just need to be careful.

  Me: I don’t like fighting either, but I’m not someone that is going to follow you around like a dog and jump on your lap when it suits you. You can’t train me.

  Eli: That’s not what you are. Is your Mom working? I’ll come around. I just need to go and see Dad first.

  Jamie pops into my head and I cringe. After Sophia stood up for me, I’m sure he’ll be out for my blood. I can’t risk Eli coming to mine.

  Me: No, text me when you’re home and I’ll come to you.

  Eli: Okay. Also—I fucking hate the way other guys stare at you. The way you were lying on the grass with your friend . . . it took everything for me not to come over and devour you.

  I grin, because I love hearing that he’s as jealous as I am.

  ***

  Mom left this afternoon for a work conference and I have the whole house to myself for the weekend. Through Sophia, I also learn that Jamie is away all weekend at football camp. I text Eli that he can come over and quickly tidy the house.

  Dirty thoughts start racing through my mind of us having sex in my parents’ kitchen. On the sofa. Against the hallway wall. In the shower. Oh God, I’m going to be worn out just thinking about it all before he even gets here.

  God help me if he decides he still wants to put our relationship on hold.

  A knock sounds at the door and I jump up from reading a magazine on the kitchen table. My stomach has butterflies in it from excitement. I haven’t had Eli’s touch for five days and it’s killing me.

  From the moment I open the door, the lust between us is palpable. I am like a moth and he is the flame.

  “Hey,” I say. There’s a nervous tension in the air, and I know he feels it too.

  “Hey yourself,” his husky voice replies. He walks inside and closes the door with his foot. I sigh as his hands caress the sides of my face as he presses his forehead to mine. He is so warm. I’ve missed him so much.

  “I’m trying to stay away but I can’t,” he says, pained. “Why does it have to be this fucking hard? I just want to be with you and say fuck it to everything else.”

  I’m so glad I’m not the only one that feels this way.

  I grab his hand and mine and pull him through the hallway and up the stairs to my bedroom. He doesn’t hesitate when I open my bedroom door. Clearly we’re on the same page: sex first, talk later.

  I walk over to my bedside table and turn on a lamp. He’s still standing in the doorway, studying my room. I watch him as he takes everything in. Next to the balcony door is my queen-sized bed with white antique tables on each side. Above the bed is the large, bright contemporary oil painting that Alice painted for my birthday last year.

  I walk over to the door and close the long-draped curtains, a deep purple with gold embroidery that matches my bedding. He walks toward me slowly, not taking his eyes from mine until he is standing in front of me. My heart races.

  He reaches out and tu
cks a strand of hair behind my ear, and then he leans down and gently kisses my cheek. He releases my long hair from the constraint of its ponytail, sending it falling down my back. My heart swells at his tenderness.

  “I’ve missed being able to kiss you,” he whispers.

  I whimper as his lips touch mine, electricity pulsating though my veins. His fingers cradle my neck as he tastes me, every action tender and slow as if he wants to savor every moment.

  He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms curling around his neck.

  Slowly, he walks us over to the bed, laying me down gently in the middle.

  “Tonight I want to take my time. I want to devour you slowly,” he whispers, his dark eyes burning with desire.

  Unbuttoning my blouse, he motions for me to lift my hips and he gently tugs my pants off and discards them on the floor. I’m lying here in a silk bra and a matching thong, exposed and ready for him. My body tingles in anticipation as I wait for him to continue.

  He leans over me and his head moves toward my stomach. Hands on my waist, he places soft, sweet kisses around my torso, inching upward to my breasts. I gasp as his mouth moves over my bra, his tongue trailing over the soft skin of my breasts before settling his mouth over mine. I smile, my legs curling around his waist, his erection pressing against me. I don’t feel the need to hurry this.

  We kiss—and only kiss—for a long time. There is something so sexy about knowing what’s coming, the buildup to the moment. His eyes haven’t strayed from mine and I feel as if he’s seeing me in a whole different way.

  My hands move under his shirt, massaging his skin as he rocks against me gently. I slowly lift the shirt up, and he places me on my feet to let me take his shirt off completely. Throwing it on the floor, I peck light kisses all over his chest.

  His body is warm and his sexy, spicy scent invades my nostrils. With my forehead over his heart and his arms wrapped around me—this is what home feels like.

  Trailing my hand down toward the button, I unzip his jeans and they fall to the floor. Taking his hardened cock in my hand, I rub him against my core, which is still protected by my underwear.