Stirred Up

by Isabel Morin

  “You know the guys talk about you all the time. They think you’re hot, and they say a lot of nasty stuff.”

  Cheryl looked up from the quizzes she was grading and tried not to show how floored she was.

  “Does that upset you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sara shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “I’m sorry you have to hear that, but it’s okay. It’s pretty typical for teenage boys.”

  “Is that why you wear such lame clothes?” Sara asked. As soon as the question was out the girl’s eyes grew wide, horrified by what she’d said. “God, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry…”

  “It’s all right,” Cheryl said, smiling. “You’re right. I do wear less flattering clothes on purpose. I don’t want to draw attention to myself in that way. But obviously that doesn’t stop boys from talking.”

  “Nothing stops them,” Sara said, her voice tight. “They do whatever they want.”

  “You’re dressing differently than you used to,” Cheryl said, her voice quiet. “Are you doing it so no one will notice you?”

  Sara was looking at the floor now, but slowly she nodded her head.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?” Cheryl asked.

  She made no move, sure the girl would flit away like a terrified bird. But as she watched, Sara’s lip started to quiver, then her chin, and soon her whole body was shaking so hard, nothing could stop the sounds that tore from her.

  Cheryl put her arms around the sobbing girl, her only thought to comfort and protect as Sara went to pieces.

  ***

  Jason stopped outside his classroom, staring in shock at the sight that greeted him. As usual he’d headed to the teacher’s lounge ahead of Cheryl, who’d taken to hanging back a few extra minutes with Sara. He’d only come back because he’d forgotten his grade book.

  Now he stared, dumbfounded, as the normally silent, wraithlike girl sobbed her heart out in Cheryl’s arms. As heartbreaking as it was, he knew enough to tell it was a good thing, some kind of breakthrough. Not wanting to intrude, he backed away and quietly closed the door so that no one would see inside, then headed outside where he could think in peace.

  Cheryl had done it. Sara trusted her enough to let go. But then, he shouldn’t be surprised. Cheryl was warm-hearted and tender, patient and determined. She was amazing. She’d always been amazing, and he couldn’t believe he’d ruined things between them over what she did to earn a living. She could take her clothes off every day in front of the whole world and she’d still be as classy and strong and smart as ever. But he’d been too dumb to see it, too bent out of shape when his idealized crush turned out to be a real person with struggles and demons of her own.

  He’d never stopped wanting her, but now he realized he was still crazy about her. Which made it all the more painful to think about the damage he’d done. It might not ever be possible to get back to where they’d been before their fight. But whether they did or not, he needed to be a good friend. If he couldn’t manage that, nothing else mattered anyway.

  When he got back to his classroom students were already trickling in. Cheryl hurried in a minute later, apologizing as she took her seat in the back of the class. There was no time to talk, then or before the end of the day, but her sad eyes tugged at him all afternoon.

  When the last bell rang he stood out in the hallway, keeping his eye on the chaos until everyone had filtered out. When he returned to the room Cheryl was still sitting in the back, staring off into space.

  “Hey there,” he said, taking a seat next to her. The urge to hug her was so strong he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I saw you with Sara earlier. You want to talk about it?”

  “She finally broke down and told me pretty much what we’d suspected. Tim’s been harassing her since they all moved in together, and it’s been getting worse. After she’d cried awhile I got her to go to Mary’s office. Mary called her mother, and she and her husband are coming here for a meeting at five o’clock.”

  Her shoulders sagged and she looked weary to the bone.

  “That’s pretty intense. How are you holding up?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine,” she said, waving her hand as if that were no matter. “But my day’s not over yet. Sara begged me to come to the meeting, and I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. I don’t think I’ll actually have to say anything, but she wouldn’t agree to do it unless I went.”

  “She trusts you,” he said.

  She only smiled, but he could see she was torn up. Her mouth turned down the tiniest bit, and her hand shook as she toyed with her pen.

  “You did great, you know. She’s lucky to have you. We all are.”

  “No, I…I just…” she looked flustered by the comment, like she wasn’t used to people complimenting her.

  “You have a couple hours until the meeting. Want to grab a bite to eat?”

  “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know you’ll be fine,” he said. “Humor me anyway.”

  “Well, if it’ll make you feel better,” she said, a smile curving her lips, and without warning his heart started to beat harder.

  Once outside he led her to his motorcycle.

  “Oh, I figured we’d go someplace nearby,” she said, looking surprised.

  “We could, or we could take a nice ride down the highway and check out a diner that’ll blow your mind.”

  She rolled her eyes at this but laughed, taking the helmet without protest. Already she looked more relaxed, so he knew he was right to get her away for a bit. He tried not to think about the way her thighs cradled his hips, or the light floral smell she carried with her.

  He headed south, taking the scenic route in order to be on the highway as long as possible. Twenty minutes later he pulled up to an old-fashioned diner and held the door as Cheryl walked in. Only a few tables were filled since it was that odd time between lunch and dinner. A woman behind the counter told them to sit wherever they liked, and Cheryl picked a booth by a window.

  “So this is going to blow my mind, huh?” she teased, turning the wheel on the little jukebox that sat on their table.

  It had been weeks since she’d teased and joked with him. It felt even better than he remembered. But then, that was usually the way with things you thought you’d lost.

  “I may have exaggerated a little,” he acknowledged, grinning at her. “But they do have killer burgers. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

  “Really? What did you used to listen to?”

  “Back then I made fun of the music. My parents liked it though, especially my mom. The music hasn’t changed since then, but I’ve come to appreciate the oldies. I wonder if that means I’m old?”

  He spun the wheel, letting the song choices flip over. “Here’s one. This was one of my dad’s favorites, though he always reminded us it was before his time, too.”

  Inserting a couple quarters he pressed the buttons and out came Buddy Holly’s “Maybe, Baby.”

  “I love this song,” Cheryl said. “I get to choose the next one.”

  “You can choose the rest, my treat,” he said.

  The waitress came over, but they hadn’t even looked at the menu yet. Eventually they ordered and he exchanged a few dollar bills for more quarters. Then he sat back and watched Cheryl exclaim over the music. She picked a wide and varied selection of tunes, from the fifties on up, always asking him if he liked each one. He told her yes, no matter what the song. She seemed to have forgotten all her worries for the time being, and even sang along, a little off-key, like she couldn’t help herself.

  Then the food came and all talking ceased for a time, though it didn’t take long for them to clear their plates. In fact, he would have preferred it if the service had been a little lax, since he was in no rush to leave.

  He looked at his watch and saw they had a half hour to spare before they had to get going. “Dessert?”

  She pulled the plastic menu from behind the napkin d
ispenser and turned it to the desserts on the back.

  “I could really go for a piece of apple pie, but only if you’ll split it with me.”

  “Deal,” he said, leaning back in his seat and trying not to grin like a fool at her.

  The waitress came back over and took their order along with their plates. Linda Ronstadt sang “Different Drummer” from the speaker by his elbow and Cheryl began humming along while she absently folded and refolded her napkin. The pie came and soon the only sounds either of them made were of enjoyment, though it might have been easier if Cheryl enjoyed the dessert a bit less. He could have done without the torment her little moans of pleasure set off.

  “What do you think about going climbing again some weekend?” he asked, praying it wasn’t too much, too soon.

  She glanced up at him, her surprised look turning wary, like there was some trick in what he was saying, some hidden meaning she wasn’t sure of.

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her dish and moving the spoon around without taking a bite.

  “It’ll be fun. You had a good time on the wall, and if you don’t go again soon you’ll forget everything.”

  He watched her expression, wondering what was going on in her mind, and pretty sure he wouldn’t like knowing. All the while his heart beat madly in his chest, as if he’d proposed marriage rather than a few hours at the gym.

  He didn’t breathe until she looked up, this time with a little smile. He still hadn’t earned one of her big, heart-stopping smiles, but this was a start.

  “Sure, why not? That was fun,” she said. “This Saturday, same time?”

  “I’ll come and get you,” he said, looking down at the table so she couldn’t see how pleased he was.

  She was giving him another chance. Maybe that’s not how she’d meant it, but that’s how he was taking it. A chance to start over, regain her trust, act like the guy he should have been all along.

  When the check came he grabbed it before Cheryl could so much as peek at it.

  “This is on me,” he said, pulling out his wallet and enclosing cash in the bill folder.

  “At least let me –”

  “Forget it. This is my treat. Anyway, we don’t have time to argue. I need to get you back to school.”

  “Fine, have it your way,” she grumbled. She ate a final spoonful of pie and looked up again. “This was perfect. Thank you.”

  He smiled back, glad she didn’t realize just how much he was willing to do for her. He took a different route back to the school, but it was nearly five now, so there was no time for exploring.

  They pulled into the school parking lot with a couple minutes to spare.

  “Thanks again. This was just what I needed,” she said, dismounting and handing him his helmet.

  “How are you getting in?” he asked.

  “Mary said to call her and she’d come open the door.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” he said, reluctant to leave her alone with such an intense situation to deal with.

  “Don’t be silly. I have no idea how long the meeting will go. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s Sara I’m worried about.”

  “All right,” he said, relenting. She was a grown woman after all. She didn’t need him hanging around all night. “Call me if you need to talk, though. Okay?”

  Once again he’d taken her by surprise. She stood there in the parking lot, a little frown between her brows, her head cocked slightly as she assessed him.

  “I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

  Then she smiled at him. She was still holding back, but it was genuine and warm, and he headed home high on the hope it gave him.

  ***

  “Do you have a minute, Cheryl?”

  Cheryl stopped mid-stride. She’d been hurrying out of the building after her last class, starving and anxious to get started on a paper that was due the next week. But Larry Walker was Dean of Education, so she wasn’t about to brush him off.

  “Sure,” she said, following him into his office down the hall.

  Her nerves kicked in, even though she’d done nothing that could possibly get her in trouble.

  “I won’t keep you long,” he said, waiting until she sat before taking a seat behind his desk. “I received a call from Laurie Holmes, the Henderson High principle, and she had very good things to say about you.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s great,” she said, still confused.

  “She tells me you managed to get a struggling student to talk to you about a very serious situation she was dealing with, when she wouldn’t talk to anyone else.”

  “You mean Sara,” she said. “I’m glad I could help, but I didn’t do anything the other teachers wouldn’t have done.”

  “Ms. Holmes believes you made a big difference, and she went out of her way to let us know about it. We’ve received glowing reports about your fieldwork from Jason Shaw as well.”

  “That’s great,” she said, too amazed to be articulate. “I’m learning a lot there.”

  “Everything else going well? Classes, exam preparation?”

  “Yes, thank you. I think I’m on track, though I’m still a bit nervous.”

  “That goes with the territory, I’m afraid. Just keep up the good work and you’ll be fine,” he said, getting to his feet. “I have no doubt you’ll make a first-rate teacher.”

  She could feel her face warm at the restrained praise, all the more meaningful because he didn’t often get involved with students.

  Thanking him, she left his office and continued down the hall and out into the parking lot, her heart light as she replayed his praise. And not only had he taken the time to speak to her, but the principal of Henderson High had gone out of her way to tell him her part in helping Sara.

  A few minutes ago she’d been desperate to go home and watch sitcom re-runs, but now she was wide awake and up for a few more hours of work. Getting into her car she headed for the Blackwater Café, her new favorite place to study. She worked there until nearly ten o’clock, consuming more coffee and cookies than any person her size had a right to.

  When she could no longer see straight she called it a day and packed up. Her heavy bag banging against her hip and weighing her down, she made her way through the parking lot that served the stores and restaurants on the street, wishing she could remember where she’d parked.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Cherry. Fancy meeting you here.”

  Cheryl stopped dead and turned to see a man coming towards her between a row of cars. Instantly her heart beat faster and she was about to run, but then he passed under a streetlight and she realized it was Brad, Jason’s friend.

  “Jeez, Brad, you scared me.”

  “Sorry about that, sweetie,” he said, moving closer.

  She could smell the booze on him and her instinct to flee reasserted itself. But she was over-reacting. She knew him. Then she realized what he’d called her and her blood ran cold.

  “Does Jason know what you are?” he said, moving closer. “It wasn’t until I went back this past weekend that I knew for sure it was you.”

  “Okay, so now you know,” she said, trying to move past him.

  He shifted to the side and grabbed her upper arm.

  “What’s the hurry?” he asked, moving even closer.

  Disgusted, she retreated from him only to bump up against a car. He’d basically trapped her. Still, there was no reason to freak out, was there? She was in a public place. Someone was bound to come along, especially if she screamed. It didn’t seem like screaming was required yet, but she wouldn’t hesitate if need be.

  “Get your hands off of me.”

  “Oh, please. You’re practically a prostitute, and you’re gonna act all innocent with me? What’s the matter? Should I slip you a few bucks first?”

  “What the fuck?” a man roared behind him, and Brad was yanked away from her and slammed into the next car.

  She watched in shock as Jason punched Brad in the gut and then his face, sending
him to his knees. Jason stood over him, his expression livid as Brad moaned, his hands trying to stem the blood flowing from his nose.

  “Are you all right?” he asked Cheryl, looking over at her even as he kept an eye on Brad.

  “I’m fine. He didn’t really do anything.”

  “The hell he didn’t.”

  His mouth tightened and he turned back to Brad, who was now on his knees, struggling to get to his feet.

  “Get out of here,” Jason snarled, and Brad stood up, wavering slightly. He looked surprised, as if he had no idea how any of it had happened.

  “Dude, it’s not what you think –” he began. But one look at Jason’s face and he turned and lurched out of the parking lot.

  It all seemed so surreal, Jason’s take-down of his friend so absolute, as if he felt no conflict, no remorse. Instead he turned his back on Brad, face softening as he looked at her. Then without a word he pulled her close, his strong arms wrapping around her.

  Chapter Eight

  Cheryl closed her eyes, soaking in the comfort he offered. The last time, the only time, Jason had held her was when they’d danced together all those weeks ago. Now his warmth flooded into her, and yes it was comforting, but she couldn’t help noticing how good he smelled, how big and strong he was in comparison to her.

  He’d punched a man in her defense, and her body knew it. It didn’t care about her confusion and doubts. It stirred to life, humming against him. She pulled away before Jason could feel it, rubbing her arms in an effort to soothe herself.

  “Were you on your way in or out?” Jason asked, his eyes still narrowed, assessing her like she was some car crash victim and he was on the alert for signs that all was not well.

  But all wasn’t well, so why pretend otherwise?