by Harlow James
“Thank you. That paper is heavy,” she chuckles while brushing hair from her face. I keep an eye on her from the corner of my line of sight.
“I’m Drew Phillips.”
“Olivia Walsh. Nice to meet you, Drew. What do you teach?”
“English. Been here for eight years here now. And this is…” He turns to introduce me, but Olivia beats him to the punch.
“Kane Garrison,” she spits out. “We’ve already met.”
Drew flicks his eyes back and forth between us before he raises his eyebrows to me.
“Yeah. Olivia had a little run in with some crickets yesterday morning. I rode in on my loafers and saved the day.”
She sighs with a roll of her eyes before gliding over to the copy machine to program the copies she needs.
“Crickets?” Drew asks while he gives me a look that says he’s thoroughly confused. “Good thing Kane was there to help then, I guess. Aren’t crickets supposed to mean good luck though?”
Olivia gives me a side-eye glance before pushing a few buttons. “That’s still debatable.”
I huff and then shake my head, gathering my papers that just finished on the tray at the end of the machine as I prepare to make my way back to my classroom.
“What the?” Olivia says as the paper jams yet again in the same copy machine I just used.
“Oh, yeah. We call that one Bob, as in Bob Marley, because it ‘always be jammin’,” Drew laughs while giving his best Jamaican accent.
“Well, it seemed to work fine just a minute ago. Is there some trick to this, Kane? You got your copies made. You mind helping me out here?”
I shrug and then start to walk backwards towards the door. “Well, apparently my help isn’t that impressive. Maybe you need more crickets to give you some luck with getting Bob to cooperate.”
If looks could kill, I’d be pierced by the daggers Olivia is throwing my way with her eyes.
“Here, I’ll try to help,” Drew offers just as I head out the door and back to my classroom, leaving the two of them to tackle the dreaded copy machine that haunts any teacher’s dreams at night.
Five minutes later, there’s a knock on my door as Drew pushes his way in and shuts the metal barricade behind him.
“What the fuck was that, Kane?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, playing stupid while organizing stacks of papers on my desk to prepare for my next class. Drew and I have the same prep period, and with a glance at the clock, I realize it will end in about ten minutes. And now I know that apparently Olivia has that same hour too.
“Don’t play stupid with me, man. I know you generally give off the surly, ‘leave me the hell alone’ attitude, but something’s going on here with Olivia. Do you know her or something? Did something happen yesterday morning that has you acting like a complete ass to her?”
“Besides the fact that I saved her from a swarm of crickets and she was less than grateful? Nope.”
Drew eyes me with that look that indicates he knows I’m full of shit.
“Kane, please remember that we both teach teenagers, so I know if someone’s lying to me. Give me more credit than that. What are you not telling me?”
A lump forms in my throat before I blow out a long breath and lean forward, bracing my hands on the edge of my desk. If there is anyone I can trust with the truth, it’s Drew.
“Dude… I kinda hooked up with someone Friday night…” I glance up at him with my body still hunched over.
“Okay, that’s nice. I mean, actually, that’s great, Kane. Good for you getting back out there, but I don’t understand what that has to do with Olivia…”
And then the light bulb clicks on.
“Oh, fuck,” his hands drop to his sides and then the biggest grin spreads across his face.
“Don’t smile like that, Drew,” I point in his direction as I stand up tall again. “This is all kinds of fucked up. I work with the woman now. I never would have taken her back to her place if I knew we were colleagues. You know me, I have a strict policy against that. Hell, Misty Chambers is still trying to get in my pants and it’s been three years since I started here.”
“Yeah, but Misty is Misty. She’s not very particular about who she invites in her bed.”
“No kidding. I just... hell. I actually allow myself to have fun, have sex for the first time in almost a year, and then this happens. Obviously, it can’t happen again and no one needs to find out.”
“Fuck, a year? And I here I complained that I only get it twice a week,” he jokes, but his laughter falls on deaf ears. I do not find this funny.
Drew rubs his chin in thought as he circles around my classroom, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before trying to reason with me.
“I agree no one should know, but does that mean it has to be just a one-time thing? There’s obviously something there between the two of you. She may have looked like she wanted to murder you, but all I felt was sexual tension.”
Yeah, I felt it too. The woman may be trying to convince me and herself that she can’t stand me, but all I feel is her denying her attraction. I mean, we obviously slept together already, so there’s no doubt that she felt the same way about me physically that I did about her. The woman was fire and ice, singing my flesh before offering relief in the form of a mind-numbing orgasm.
And that night I had no other thought than to accept that it was a single occurrence. But now that I know who she is and we’ll obviously be near each other, I can’t help but wonder if she’d be down for a repeat. I’m definitely not looking for a relationship, but the sex was too good to pass up again.
“Nah, I get the feeling she’s more angry that we ended up being co-workers, and then I saved her from some bugs.”
“Why is she here anyway? I mean, math teachers are scarce, especially ones that know their stuff and look like her. There has to be a reason why she took a job this far into the school year.”
Drew has a point. It’s not very often teachers change jobs in the middle of the year, or any time into a school year. Something must have happened that brought her to Emerson Falls. But no sooner do I realize that, I shove the thought from my mind.
It’s not my business. She’s not my business. I may want to fuck her senseless again, but no good can come from digging deeper than that. I learned my lesson with letting women in.
“I hate to burst your bubble, Sherlock, but I have no desire, nor the time, to figure out why she’s here,” I say, glancing up at the clock as I realize the bell is about to ring, signaling the start of our next classes.
“Well, shoot me for trying to nudge you in the right direction.”
“And what direction is that?”
Drew tilts his head at me. “Come on, Kane. It’s been three years since Natasha. I know she fucked you up, but are you going to just be alone forever because one bitch broke your heart?”
“I didn’t know you cared so much, Dr. Phil.”
Shaking his head, Drew begins to retreat from my room. “I’m not saying it has to be with Olivia—although, you could do a lot worse,” he wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I just hate to see you waste the best years of your life because you’re punishing yourself and anyone else for what your ex did to you.”
One drunken night I divulged the entire history of my relationship with Natasha to Drew. I barely remember the conversation, but I’m pretty sure I threatened him within an inch of his life if he brought it up again.
“You’d better go before I make it so you and Tammy can never have kids, Drew.”
He laughs at me while walking out of my door. “She’d kill you before you ever got the chance to touch me. Don’t be a dick, Kane. It’s not becoming of you.”
“Kiss my ass, Drew,” I fire back, just as the bell rings and students infiltrate the halls.
I know Drew is right, but fuck if it doesn’t make me apprehensive about letting a woman get further than just sex. Sex is easy. Sex is safe. I can shut off my feelings and just focus on
the wet heat of a woman clenching my dick.
But that was before Olivia Walsh sucked me in and spit me out. I wasn’t ever supposed to see her again.
Funny how the universe had different plans.
Chapter 13
Olivia
“Okay, you know it’s a school night and I had to rip the talons of my offspring off of my legs to get here, so this better be good,” Amy says as she grumbles through my front door and throws her purse on my couch. Her oldest just started kindergarten this year, which I’ve heard changes the parenting game tremendously.
“Oh, it’s good alright,” Clara declares from the kitchen where Perry, her and I are huddled around a pitcher of margaritas and chips and salsa.
“I at least made you food. And I have margaritas,” I try to soothe my friend as she makes her way into the kitchen to join us.
“No tequila for me, thanks. I think I’ve learned that lesson.”
“It’s different when you take shots. Mixed in a margarita with the combination of all the sugar, it won’t hit you as hard,” Clara pipes up while taking a long draw of the frozen concoction and then smacking her lips in appreciation.
“John had to take care of the kids on his own until noon on Saturday so I could sleep off my hangover. When I finally emerged from our room, the house looked like the Tasmanian Devil paid us a visit. I went from hungover to fully enraged. Then John and I got in a huge fight. I can’t handle that again.”
“It won’t kill John to have to play Dad once in a while, Amy,” Perry says while dipping a chip into my homemade salsa.
Amy sighs. “I know.”
“And you need a break sometimes. Don’t let one bad experience and fight with your husband deter you from getting your mommy time.”
“Fine. One. Drink,” Amy caves as Perry pats her on the back and fills up her cup.
“Okay, so spill, Liv. Why the hell are we gathered here tonight, on a Wednesday?” Clara demands as my three best friends shift forward in their stances, leaning on the kitchen counter, waiting for my answer.
I take a deep breath and then a long sip of my margarita before placing my drink down and running my sweaty palms over my leggings.
“So, you guys remember the man I was talking to at the bar before you left?”
“The lumberjack,” Clara says.
“The lumberjack?” Perry and Amy ask at the same time.
Clara nods. “Yeah. He was decked out in flannel and jeans, looking like Paul Bunyan’s long-lost son. If Liv hadn’t seen him first, I would have climbed him like the tree he probably chopped down before entering the bar.”
The three of us silently chuckle at our blunt and hilarious friend.
“Okay, so what about him?” Perry asks.
“They slept together,” Clara answers for me, as I swat her arm.
“Jesus, Clara. This is my story, right?”
“You slept with him? Was it good? Please tell me it was good,” Amy asks, more than interested in my sex life. She’s told us on more than one occasion that her and John barely have sex because they’re always tired by the time the kids are in bed. Poor girl. I almost don’t want to share how mind-blowing the sex was so I don’t make her feel bad.
Side-note: here’s a common misconception. Married people assume that single people are out having wild and crazy sex all the time, filled with multiple orgasms and abundantly attractive people. This cannot be further from the truth. Those of you who are married should know, being single sucks. My encounter with the lumberjack was pure luck, the exception to the rule. You’re lucky to get regular sex, and if you are, it’s usually in some friends-with-benefits type of situation where the sex is great, but everything else is lacking.
Single people—at least most I’ve talked to—are generally envious of married people. Remember, if you’re single, that means you haven’t found that person that you want to spend the rest of your life with yet. That person who makes you laugh and accepts you for who you are—quirks, flaws and all. The person who loves you without make-up, when you’re carrying around a few extra pounds, or when you have such bad gas, you’re running each other out of rooms from how bad you both smell.
We’re all looking for that, the person you feel so comfortable with that you can have the toe-curling sex, but still wake up to your best friend each day.
So when you hear stories of your single friends having mind-blowing sex, please know that this rarely happens. The grass isn’t always greener on the other side.
The grass is greener where you water it.
Don’t search for something beyond what’s right in front of you. There’s a reason you chose that person, so remember that and fight for it. (Solid advice from my parents who still look at each other like the other one hung the moon.)
Otherwise, you could end up in a situation like mine right now, where my incredible one-night-stand is actually my new colleague and I want to pound his face in right after he gives me a few more orgasms.
“Uh, yeah. It was good,” I say, glancing away from my friends.
“I believe you told me that hot wouldn’t even begin to describe it.” Clara opens her big fat mouth again.
Amy fans herself while Perry shakes her head with a grin.
“Okay, fine! It was the best sex I’ve ever had, okay?” I shout at my three friends before pounding my margarita.
They stand there in utter silence, waiting for me to speak again, I’m sure. Clara has a wicked grin, Perry is looking away embarrassingly, and Amy looks like she’s about to hump the counter.
“Why are you yelling, Liv?” Perry breaks the quiet before making her way around to me, placing her hands on my shoulders.
My eyes are closed, my head hung low while I find the courage to share the truth bomb dropped on me two days ago that has continued to rattle my brain.
“Because,” I say, still looking down at the ground. “I work with him now.”
Clara spits her mouthful of chips and salsa across my kitchen floor while Amy knocks her margarita over, pink slushie sliding across the granite counters.
“What?” Clara asks once she’s cleared her throat, still leaving her mess everywhere. Amy frantically searches for a towel to clink up her drink and Perry rushes to help her, sopping up the pink liquid with paper towels.
Sighing, I brace myself for explaining our encounter. “I went to work early Monday morning to finish up a few things before the kids arrived, and when I opened my classroom door, there were a bazillion crickets all over the floor.”
“Okaaaaay,” Perry drags out, motioning us all over to the couch and loveseat so we can get more comfortable while I re-live my mortification.
“I screamed when I saw them, of course… you guys know, I hate crickets.”
Amy and Perry nod while Clara rolls her eyes.
“Anyway, I screamed and then started running away…”
“That’s a bit dramatic,” Clara teases as I shoot her a death glare.
“And with my head turned, I ran into someone and almost fell over, but he caught me. When I looked up at who it was, it was him.”
“The lumberjack?” Amy asks, sitting on the edge of her seat with drool dripping from the corner of her mouth.
“Yup. Only he wasn’t dressed in flannel and jeans this time. Nope. He was wearing a dark grey button-down shirt with a black tie, black slacks, and tan dress shoes.” I distinctly remember thinking that the look of him dressed professionally could easily rival the lumberjack look. The man is downright sexy in anything he wears, apparently.
“So what happened?” Perry urges me to continue.
“Well, once we realized who each other was, he teased me about the crickets before he helped extricate them from my room. I thanked him and then told him things didn’t have to be awkward, given that we slept together before knowing we were colleagues. And then he proceeded to tell me he was fine with it, but he was more worried about me making it a big deal,” I roll my eyes before taking a sip of my drink.
“He said that?” Perry asks, her nose scrunching up.
“Yup. Said women are too emotional, so I’d better check my feelings.”
“Ugh, what a pig.”
“Then I ran into him in the teacher’s lounge yesterday and he acted like an ass when I asked him for help unjamming the copier. One of the other teachers helped me, but not before apologizing for Kane.”
“Kane? Mmmm, that’s a yummy name,” Clara points out. Believe me, when he told me his name, that was the first thing that came to my mind too. It suits him, and I couldn’t help but want to shout it while he plowed into me again.
“So, he’s being a dick. Is that really that big of a problem? I mean, you probably won’t see him that much, right? Teachers are usually so busy during the day, they rarely interact with each other,” Perry adds.
“Well, yes, and no. I mean, we will see each other at meetings and sporting events, fundraisers, and other stuff. But God! The man made me so pissed that he couldn’t just remain civil. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t have a one-night-stand and detach feelings.”
I say the words, but my heart doesn’t believe them. The truth of the matter is, even though I wanted to so badly to believe that my night with Kane was just me trying to move past Trevor and have fun, I’ve never been the type of girl to just sleep with a guy one time. I’ve always been either dating the guy or in a committed relationship. I had one one-night-stand back in college and cried for three days afterwards, swearing I would never do it again. Sex has always been emotional for me, so I don’t know why I thought that now, at thirty-one, I would feel any different. Believe me, Sunday I was nothing more than a jumble of emotions as I rearranged my classroom and then vegged out on the couch before work on Monday. I was trying to process all of my thoughts by distracting myself and eating my feelings.
But then once I saw Kane again and he started acting like an ass, I had to accept that the emotion I couldn’t put a label on, was in fact, disappointment.
I was disappointed in myself for doing something so out of character. I was disappointed in him for not being able to act like an adult about it. And in turn, I guess I felt a tad rejected, especially when he looked at me like I was a mistake.
