by Rachel Leigh
When she turns around, she sees me. I hold up a finger instructing her to wait and mouth the word please. She leans her back against the door and pulls her phone from her bag and toys with it while she waits. We both just stand there with a row of lockers between us—waiting.
There is one group still lingering, and the anticipation builds, as I just stand here with my arms draped at my side. “School’s out. Go home,” I snap.
They give me a disgusted look and the girl dressed in all black with black hair and fishnet stockings actually hisses at me. Probably casting some sort of spell on me with her eyes.
I’ll take a streak of bad luck, if they’d just get the hell out of here.
Once the hall is completely empty, I take slow steps toward her, as she drops her phone back in her bag. “Hey, Ms. Hyland.” I give the halls another once over, to be sure we are alone. “Can we go in?” I nod toward the door.
She doesn’t put up a fight; instead, she retrieves her keys and unlocks the door. Once we are in, I click the lock and take her wrist in my hand. “Come with me.”
This classroom is too open. With the see through panel on the door and the open windows. I know Mom and some of the other staff are sticking around for the remainder of the afternoon, so we can’t risk it.
We walk to the back of the classroom, to the open door of the storage room. I pull her in and shut the door behind us. It’s completely dark. Not even a sliver of light shines through, but we’re alone, and that’s all that matters.
“I’ve missed you.” I pull her close. I can hear the sound of each breath she takes, feeling the warmth of each exhale on my bare arms.
“It’s only been two hours.” Her voice holds restraint. I can tell something is bothering her.
“What’s going on? Is this about Taya?” I wish that I could see her face. Look in her eyes and see what she’s feeling—pain, sorrow, anger.
“It’s nothing. I have no place to be upset. It’s not like this thing going on between us is serious. I mean, how could it be?” She takes a step back, freeing herself from my touch.
“Don’t talk like that. First of all, there is nothing to be upset about. Taya is just a friend, we have a past, but that’s over with.”
“Sometimes the past is a lot closer than we think,” she speaks gravely.
“Not this part of my past. Taya was just asking if I would mind if her and Kip went to prom together. She asked out of respect. I’m telling you, babe, it was nothing.” I whisk her back to me. “It is kind of cute that you’re jealous, though.”
“I’m not jealous. I’m concerned.” She gets defensive, which is also cute.
“Well,” I sweep her hair to the side, gathering it in my hand on her shoulder, “you have nothing to be concerned about.” I lean closer to her creased neck and breathe out, mangling my breath on her skin. “Second of all, this is serious to me.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.” I give her the reassurance she needs, also giving it to myself, at the same time. If anything, her emotional plea has proven to me that she, in fact, feels something for me.
My lips ghost the skin of her shoulder, moving down her arm. “I want to taste every inch of your skin, explore every dark part that the sun doesn’t touch.”
“You shouldn’t say those things to me.”
“You’re right. I should show you.” I grab her leg and lift it up to my side, holding it in place.
“Show me. Show me that I’m the only one you want.” Her voice is raspy—hungry and full of need. A need that only I can satisfy.
In one quick motion, our lips crash together, and we tear into each other. I kick off my shoe, and it hits something on the shelf that crashes to the floor, the sound of shattering glass isn’t even enough to stop us. Every article of clothing is being tossed around the pitch-black room.
She takes control and pushes me up against the door. I stretch my arm down and sweep my fingers over her entrance then rub her clit in a circular motion. “You’re so wet,” I mutter into her open mouth. She swings her leg up, wrapping it around my back.
“Then do something about it.” Her nails dig into my shoulder blades. I can feel the weight of her head fall back, as she grinds herself against my hand. “Fuck me, Knox.”
She’s always been so reserved; I like seeing her come out of her shell and tell me exactly what she wants me to do to her.
I use my hand to swipe everything off the table that sits against the wall. Neither of us giving any thought to what was on it or where it landed. Picking her up by the waist, I set her on it, and she lies back, propping herself up on her elbows. My mouth finds her breast, and I suck her nipple into my mouth, making her shiver with anticipation. Teasing her other nipple, as I roll it between my finger and thumb. “Knox,” she moans, “just fuck me.”
I work my way down, sucking her into my mouth, likely leaving a trail of bruised skin. I lift her legs up, as her feet rest on the table. Wishing for just one look at her beautiful body in this darkness.
Her hands drop to the side, when I dip one finger inside her. Pressing firmly and flicking it against her walls. The sound of my hand smacking against her pussy dominating the sound of our laborious breaths.
With my head between her legs, I tease her swollen clit with the tip of my tongue, as my finger continues to find its way in and out of her. I can feel the shift in the table, as she grips the edge in her hands—the sound of her nails scraping against the plastic.
I press another finger in and suck her lips between my teeth. The anticipation of being inside her builds as my dick throbs against the table. I want to feel her from the inside, bare and uncovered. Feel her walls close in around me as I make her come undone.
“Fuck me now, Knox,” she groans, as if she read my mind.
I slide her body down so that her ass hangs off the table, and I drape her legs over my forearms. Knowing exactly where to go, I find my way inside of her. My dick engulfed in the warmth of her essence.
I want to ask if she’s on the pill, but refrain from ruining the moment. She props herself up on her elbows, and her hips buck up into me, gaining friction. I drop one leg and slide my free hand under her ass, getting a good grip, as I pound my dick in and out of her.
I can feel her convulse around me, her legs shaky and her breaths heady. A low moan escapes her, and she tightens and relaxes at the same time. I continue to drive myself through her orgasm and when I feel the drip of her down my leg, I elicit the same sounds. An electrical current rapidly moves through my veins and emits when I pull out and pump my release all over her stomach.
At least, I hope that's where it went. “Is there a light in here?” I snicker, as I reach for her hands and pull her up.
She gets to her feet, and before she moves, I press my lips to hers. “Do you believe me now?” I kiss her again, “no one else.”
“You’re starting to convince me.” She stretches her arm up and suddenly there is light.
I reach for a roll of brown paper towel on one of the shelves and unroll a couple feet of it, then wipe her down. “Such a gentleman.” She grins, taking the paper towel and balling it up. She sets it on the table, and we both get dressed.
“Ooops,” I shrug, seeing the broken vase on the floor. “I’ll grab the broom and clean that up. I hope it wasn’t our assignment for Monday. I think we’ve drawn that vase at least a dozen times this year,” I tease, and she knows it.
“What can I say, I’ve run out of ideas.”
“I’ve got an idea,” I swing her around and grip her around the waist, “How about if I come see you later?”
“I don’t know,” she hesitates. “We really should be more careful. We’ve been getting pretty sloppy. I think people are starting to suspect something.”
“So what if they are. Maybe we should just come out with it. What harm can it do? I want to show you off to the world.” Part of me knows that's not possible right now, but the other part of me says, why not. It’s not like we h
ave anything to lose. She might get some backlash from the parents around town, but her job is completely replaceable. Everyone would come around eventually.
She obviously thinks that's a terrible idea, because the next thing I know, my arms are empty, and the door is swinging open. My heavy shoulders drop, and I aggressively grab the broom from the corner, sweeping up the remains of a time with her that will forever be etched in my memory.
It isn’t until I hear the door to the hallway slam shut that I’m dropping the broom and hauling ass out there.
Is she leaving?
A dozen questions race through my mind, as I catch up to her in the hallway. Is this temporary to her? Will we ever be more than this? Am I going to lose her one day? I can’t lose her—not now, not ever.
My heart aches at the thought. In just this short amount of time, she’s become something to me. I don’t know what that something is, but it’s breathtaking. She takes my breath away by simply walking into a room. And her touch—I can’t live without it.
Am I just a lovesick puppy to her? A joke? Just a boy?
Maybe I thought it was so much more than it really was. Maybe I am just a kid with a crush.
Then why does the thought of losing her feel like a knife to my stomach? An uncontrolled bleed that only she can stop?
“Hey.” I place a comforting hand on her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom. Home. I don’t know, Knox,” she says in a disappointed tone, with her eyes locked on the squares of tile at her feet.
“Was it something I said? I’m sorry.”
“No,” her eyes shoot up, “Don’t you ever be sorry. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I can hear the echo of voices in another room. I look around to see if any witnesses are in sight. “Come back to the room and talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “No, just go for now. We will talk later. I promise.”
I don’t even fight it. I have no choice. The voices are coming closer, and Axel is waiting on me. Part of me wants to just plant my mouth on hers and be out with it, but she may never forgive me if I do that. Instead, I turn to walk away with my posture dampened and my spirits crushed. Five minutes ago, we were losing ourselves to each other.
It turns out, the only one losing anything was me.
19
Claire
I wait until his Jeep leaves the parking lot, before I walk out the door. The scalding sun reflecting off the black asphalt is hot enough to burn my pale skin in a matter of minutes.
I climb in the car and immediately roll all the windows down, making note to get the air conditioning checked before the summer heat really hits.
I look to my left, as I drive past Scotty’s, wondering if he’s working tonight. Picturing him with his cut off shirt and gym shorts, in those dirty grease absorbed sneakers. I know he thinks that I made this decision lightly, and all because of our age difference. Guilt is not something that I feel often, if ever, but right now, it consumes me.
I pull into my regular spot on the side of the road in front of the main house and hit the locks, before I get out and close the door behind me. Blakely lifts her head from the papers in her hand in front of the mailbox. “Hey Claire, how are you doing?” she asks, taking steps toward me.
“Doing well, Ms. Porter.” I keep it short. I’m not really in the mood for small talk right now. I continue down my normal everyday path, but she continues to walk beside me.
“Please, call me Blakely. Ms. Porter makes me feel old.” She chuckles, “How’s the class going? The students aren’t giving you too much trouble, I hope. I know there are some major assholes in that school.”
I laugh at her accurate assessment. “No, everything is going great. Thanks for asking.”
“And Knox, is he doing well?”
I stop abruptly. “Why do you ask?” The words fly out defensively. I don’t know how she could possibly know anything at all—unless Knox told her; they are best friends, after all.
“He’s in your class, right?”
“Oh, right. Yes, he’s doing well in class.” I sigh internally. “You have a nice day.” I wave her off, as I continue to the guest house.
“Claire,” she hollers, causing me to turn back around. “Would you like to have a glass of wine? Get to know each other a little better? We are neighbors, and we’ve never had much of a chance to chit-chat. Come on, let’s have a little girl-time”
Chit-chat is at the very top on the list of things that I try to avoid, right next to girl-time.
“I should go home. I have a pile of sketches to grade.” I point over my shoulder and lie. I don’t even look at half of what my class works on. A’s for everyone. These kids will grow up thinking they are all artists because I don’t take the time to give them honest feedback. I really need to consider finding a different job.
“Just one drink?” She flashes sad puppy eyes.
Those don’t convince me in the least bit, but to save an argument, I agree. “Just one.”
“Yay.” She beams, with an eagerness that I wish I was capable of. There are many things in her life that I wish I had. Her self-confidence, her assurance on what she wants out of life, but mostly, her freedom from her past.
I walk through the sliding glass door, that I’ve walked in and out of countless times these past couple of days, only she is none the wiser.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, as I pull the door shut behind me. The cool air inside feels refreshing, compared to the dryness of the outdoors.
“Thank you. Though, I can’t take all the credit. The kitchen was designed by my mother. Everything else I had remodeled when I took ownership.” She pulls an open bottle of wine from the refrigerator. “White wine, okay?”
“That’s perfect.”
She continues to talk, as she pours our glasses. “So tell me, what do you like to do when you’re not at work?”
“I’m very passionate about art. Many different forms. Abstract, Modern, Animated.”
“Right. Jorge mentioned that. It’s why he thought the job at the school would be a good fit for you. I happen to have the same passion. I prefer drawing and painting things we can touch, but all art is beautiful.”
“That it is.” I take a sip, savoring the rich taste, as it goes down smoothly.
“Have you met any men since you’ve come to town?”
I about spit my drink out, choking it down the wrong tube.
“Are you okay?” she asks, walking over, as if she’s about ready to begin pounding on my back.
“Mmmhmm.” I nod, through coughing fits.
Once I’ve finally got it together, she continues with what feels like an interview. “So, have you?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “I haven’t had much of a chance to mingle with the townies.”
She looks at me with speculation, “Oh really? Then who's been coming across my yard in the wee hours of the night? Hmm?”
My eyes pop out of their sockets, and I think I’d prefer to choke again than give her the reaction she’s getting from me right now. I tip my glass back and drink it down, very slowly, while thinking.
She either knows it's him or doesn’t. Either way, she’s playing it cool, so she doesn’t seem to mind. I could lie and say it's a man I met at a bar, but then she’d ask who it is. I imagine she knows every resident in Redwood, so that won’t work.
I decide to play dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I set the glass down, then grab the bottle and fill it back up.
“Ok,” her head bobs up and down, “I’ll let it go for now. But, when you’re ready to talk, I’m a nosey bitch, so feel free to fill me in.” She clanks her glass against mine, before downing the contents.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Just as I finish the sentence, my phone sounds in my bag. I reach down and pull it out and see that I have a missed call from Jorge. He begins to call again, before I can even set the phone down.
She w
asn’t lying when she said she was nosey because her head is practically touching mine and she’s leaning over to see whose name is flashing on my screen.
“I should call him back.” I stand up and grab my bag, leaving the full glass of wine in place.
“Of course,” she stands in respect to my leaving, “How do you know Jorge, anyways? I mean, I know you two aren’t a thing. It’s obvious that he’s—” she stops, as if she’s afraid to say it.
“Gay.” I finish for her, “He is, and he’s one of those gay friends that every girl needs. We met years ago in California, shortly after I finished art school. We’ve stuck together ever since.” It’s all true. I don’t mention the bits and pieces in between, but that’s irrelevant.
“How about you?” I ask, as my phone rings again. “I’m sorry, I really should get this.” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “Thanks again for the drink. We should definitely do it again, soon.”
“Anytime.”
I walk out the same way I came in and hit the answer button, as soon as my feet hit the deck.
“Claire? Are you sitting down?” Jorge’s voice comes through from the other end.
“Oh no!” I gasp.
20
Knox
I’m kicking rocks and dragging my ass, as I walk up to the warehouse. I don’t even want to be here. I have better things to do, like convincing Claire why we make sense and how I can be the man that she needs.
It’s very possible that I’m fooling myself. Can I really be the man she deserves? I can’t provide for her, make an honest woman out of her. I haven’t even graduated high school.
Self-pity consumes me, when I push the doors open and make my way to the ring.
“It’s your lucky day,” Axel singsongs, “I’m not even going to give you shit about being late this time.” He jumps off the edge of the mat. “I want answers.”
I sweep the air with my hand. “You’re crazy, man. There is nothing to tell.” The dried fluids on my dick say differently, but he doesn’t need to know that.
