His eyes stay locked on my mouth as he closes the distance between us.
He stands a foot away from me, hands on his hips, staring down at my lips.
I can hardly breathe.
I barely remember where I am.
It’s just him and me.
I swear I can hear that song that was playing when we were kissing on the dance floor.
He slowly raises his hand up. His fingertips gently curling under my jaw as his thumb brushes the side of my mouth. He pulls his thumb away and holds it up in front of my face. I stare at the pink frosting on the pad of his thumb and, without thinking, lower my mouth to it and suck the frosting off.
The sweetened strawberry flavor tastes so much better mixed with the slight saltiness of his skin.
I swallow and lick my lips.
“Jesus,” he whispers. He looks bewildered, and he’s leaning in.
To kiss me.
“Shit.” I slide out of the way, fast as I can, knocking over the paint brushes and paint trays that are drying by the sink. “Shit!” I crouch down to pick them up—because that’s the most important thing to do right now—well, the second most important thing after not making out with a guy in my classroom.
He immediately crouches down to help me pick things up.
With those sexy hands.
I’ve spent so many hours thinking about all the things I wanted those sexy hands to do to me.
They look even sexier with those leather bracelets on his wrists.
I don’t remember him having such a beautiful jawline.
I want to run my tongue all along that jawline, up to his earlobe.
I want to suck on that earlobe.
I have never been so attracted to an earlobe.
I have to clear my throat before finally asking him, “What are you doing here?”
“Ryder’s in the bathroom. I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
I drop the paint trays and paint brushes as I stand up and step away from him.
I step away from Ryder’s dad.
From Mr. Vega.
From Alex Vega.
Alejandro the sexy stranger is Ryder’s dad.
“I didn’t…” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.
“IIIIII’M HEEEEERE! Let’s talk about me!” The door opens, and Ryder comes bounding into the room.
My classroom.
That’s where I am.
Because I’m here to have a meeting with Ryder and Ryder’s dad.
The guy who rubs me the wrong way.
The guy I might have let rub me in all the right ways if he hadn’t bolted that night.
Fuck you, fate.
10
Alex
Miss Stiles is Emmy from the club.
Miss Stiles just sucked frosting off of my fucking thumb, and it’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me in a classroom, and I want to learn every single thing that pouty pink mouth can teach me.
Miss Stiles gets all the gold stars.
“Why don’t we, uhhh… Why don’t we all have a seat at Ryder’s table?” she says, straightening herself up and waving in the general direction of a cluster of desks and chairs.
“Did you already start the meeting?” Ryder asks. He is entirely too excited about this.
“Not yet,” she says, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “We were just—we just met.”
“We just said ‘hi’ to each other.”
“This is my desk!” Ryder tells me. “You can sit in Cheyenne’s chair. Right, Miss Stiles?”
“Sure.” I can tell she already regrets suggesting that we sit at these little tables and chairs.
Cheyenne’s desk is right across from Ryder’s. I pull the chair way out so my legs don’t bump up against the table, lean back, and tell them I like the room. “I like how it’s arranged. It’s really well organized.”
“I know, right?! I like it. It’s the best one I’ve been in.”
“I’m glad you both like it. It’s a work in progress.” She takes a seat next to Ryder. That skirt she’s wearing is tight, and she hikes it up the tiniest bit as she sits down. I watch as she wriggles around in the chair and smooths things out. She hasn’t made eye contact with me since Ryder walked in.
It took me a minute to recognize her. I didn’t until she called me Alejandro. It took me exactly half a second to confirm that she’s as hot as her phone voice when I saw her from behind, in that Sexy Teacher outfit.
Her white blouse is buttoned nearly all the way up, and she appears to be wearing a tight white tank top underneath it. But it’s wet in a really great place, and Miss Stiles appears to be wearing a very thin white bra underneath that tank top. He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m currently teaching my son a very important lesson in how to behave like a gentleman, even when you can see the outline of a beautiful woman’s erect nipple.
“Did you spill water on your boob?” my son asks her.
Or maybe not.
“Ryder.” I glance over at her and say, “I’m so sorry,” before leaning over to give him a great big serving of Dad Voice. “We don’t talk to women like that. Apologize. Now.”
“Sorry, Miss Stiles.” He twists his lips to one side.
She looks down at her chest and immediately grabs her shirt to hold it away from herself so it no longer clings to her perfect perky breast. I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad at my kid. But seeing her this frazzled when she’s clearly trying to take control of the situation is very entertaining. And hot. It’s weirdly hot. All that nervous energy. I have a lot of thoughts on how I can help her release it.
But I won’t think about it right now.
“I did—I spilled water. It’s fine.” She continues to casually hold that blouse away from her body. “Shall we get into it, then?” she says, still not meeting my gaze. “Into Ryder—the reason we—thank you for joining us to discuss this… Mr. Vega.”
“Thank you for including me in this discussion, Miss Stiles.”
She glances over at me finally, frowning and shifting around in her chair again.
“My dad is a director,” Ryder says. “It means he’s in charge of making movies. And sometimes TV shows and videos for songs. And he used to do things, like for on the stage—like big stages, not like the one here—but he doesn’t have time to do it anymore. He misses it.”
“Well, I’m not in charge of everything.”
You appear to be in charge of my cock lately, Miss Stiles.
“That’s very interesting. It certainly sounds like your dad does a little of this and a little of that.”
So she does remember what we talked about that night.
“It sounds like you do too.”
She clears her throat. “Back to the topic of this meeting…”
Ryder’s hand shoots up.
I can tell Miss Stiles is trying not to smile at him. “Yes, Ryder?”
“I’m sorry I sometimes forget to put my hand up before talking.”
“Well, thank you for saying that, Ryder. It would be great if you could remember to do it all the time in class. I know we all make mistakes, and sometimes we even do things that we might regret later.”
As soon as she glances over at me, I raise my hand.
“Yes, Mr. Vega?”
“Some of us do not believe in having regrets. Sometimes we receive very urgent and important calls and texts that require us to immediately go pick up our offspring. No matter how much we want to stay where we are and continue doing what we were doing with the person we were doing it with. No matter how much we may wish that things had gone a different way and think about how great it might have been if it had.”
She nudges her black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose, blinks quickly a few times before staring at me, rubbing her lips together, and pushing a few loose strands of silky blonde hair behind her ear.
I fucking love her with her hair up.
That neck.
I want to kiss that neck fro
m her collarbone all the way up to that spot just below her ear.
I want to whisper filthy, filthy things into those pretty, dainty ears of hers.
“I think I know what you mean, Mr. Vega. Sometimes we return to the scene of the crime after…taking care of other urgent business…in the hopes that we might find the person we were…engaging with…but then we just get on with our lives and remember who we are and where we are and what we’re here to talk about.”
“Good luck with that, Miss Stiles.”
I’m aware that Ryder keeps looking back and forth between us. He raises his hand again, but it takes Sexy Teacher a moment to realize it because she’s so busy frowning and staring at my mouth.
“Yes, Ryder? You know what—I appreciate you putting your hand up, but it’s really only something students have to do in class or at assemblies or detention.”
He keeps his hand up in the air anyway. “When we’re finished having a meeting, can we all go get gelato? Have you had the Pazzo kind? It’s the really best in town. Right, Dad?”
“Pazzo Gelato is amazing, but I don’t think we’re done with this meeting yet. What else would you like to say, now that you have our full attention, Miss Stiles?”
“Um. I do love gelato, thank you Ryder. But I’m still full from all that birthday cake. And I would like to keep discussing the talking in class issue.”
“Have you been to Pazzo Gelato? It’s close to our house. My dad’s house.”
“I have not. But this is a good example of what sometimes happens in class—Mr. Vega. When I’m discussing something, Ryder will often bring up an unrelated topic—often involving you and food—instead of staying focused on the lesson. Do you know that you sometimes do that, Ryder?”
He makes the most angelic cartoon face, blinking his big brown eyes and pouting. “I know, Miss Ryder. Sorrrryyy.”
“Well, in his defense, there are very few topics in this world that are as interesting as me and food. But are you gonna stop doing that, kid?”
“Yes.”
“I hope so. Because I really don’t want to have to send you to the principal’s office. But it’s important for everyone in this classroom, including me, to remember the rules and to follow them.” She looks at me, pointedly.
“It isn’t always possible or necessary to follow every rule in life, though,” I have to say. “Shouldn’t kids learn how to decide for themselves what’s appropriate in any given situation? As long as their behavior doesn’t hurt anyone—including themselves.”
Her nostrils flare the tiniest bit, and I would bet all my money that she’s squeezing her thighs together inside that tight black skirt of hers. So much tension. So much to work with here.
“Agreed. I’m certainly not interested in breeding a bunch of rule-following robots in my classroom.”
“Good to know.”
“But I myself learned self-discipline when I was in school, and I have my parents and teachers to thank for that.”
I lock eyes with her, raise my thumb to my lips, and casually suck on the tip of it, savoring the remaining taste of strawberry frosting and the memory of her pouty pink mouth on it before responding. “Did you, now?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, shakes her head, and turns in her chair so she’s facing Ryder. Her hands are clenched together in her lap now. “Ryder. I just want you and every other student in my class to respect me when I’m giving a lesson. I’m here to teach you, but I need you and every other student to pay attention to me when I’m talking and to focus on the lesson. While your dad is right—we do sometimes have to make a choice about how to behave, regardless of whether or not a rule is official or not—we also have expectations about how to behave in class. And in society. Right? We’ve talked about that since the first day of school. And when we’re in class, we’re expected to do what’s best for the class and for learning. Okay?” She doesn’t look over at me, but I hear her loud and clear.
“Okay,” my son says, watching me.
“Because, the thing is, we all have feelings. But we can’t act on our feelings whenever we want to in life. Right, Mr. Vega?”
“We can definitely wait until the time is right to act on our feelings, Miss Stiles.” I lean forward to give Ryder my full attention. “Are we clear on what Miss Stiles is talking about here, buddy? We know you’re not trying to make it harder for her to teach her class, but can you try harder to wait until the right time to talk to her about whatever you want to talk to her about?”
“How about now? At Pazzo Gelato.”
“I actually have homework to grade and tomorrow’s lessons to prepare, so…” She pushes her chair back and stands up. Her thin white blouse has dried out a bit, but it hardly matters because I have a photographic memory and I have no plans to forget what I’ve seen here today.
“We’ll have to take a rain check on the gelato, buddy. Maybe after dinner tonight. After you’ve finished your homework.”
I stand up, but not until I’m done stroking the skin above my knee through the hole in my jeans. Not because it’s itchy. Because Miss Stiles keeps staring at it.
“Good talk,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand across the table.
She purses her petal pink lips together and places her hand in mine. “Thank you for coming in.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure. I think we all learned a lot here this afternoon.”
She pulls her hand away. “Indeed. See you in the morning, Ryder.” She places her hands on her thighs, bending at the waist until she’s eye level with him and smiling warmly. “Thanks for staying after school to talk to me.”
My son does not hesitate to step in and wrap his arms around her neck, eyes closed and holding her tight.
Well, fuck me.
He really likes her.
The delicate way that she hugs him back tells me that she’s really fond of him too.
I can’t remember seeing him hug anyone like that, besides me, his mother, and his grandparents. He sure as hell didn’t hug his first-grade teacher. I sure as hell didn’t want to either.
Miss Stiles is not the piece of work I had initially taken her to be.
She seems to be taking little pieces of both of our hearts.
Whether she wants to or not.
REASONS WHY I CAN’T DATE MR. V – Emilia
1. Because I don’t want to lose my job.
2. Even if I wouldn’t lose my job because of it, it would affect the way my principal, the other teachers, the other students’ parents, possibly the other students, and most importantly the way Ryder perceives me. If they were to find out about it. It might affect the way I treat Ryder in class.
3. I’m not ready to date anyone yet. Well, not anyone I’m this attracted to, anyway.
4. I would have to spend all my money on underpants if I dated him. I’ve already changed my appallingly soaked panties five times since that annoying phone call last night, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. Not to mention the infinity panty-changes since the night we kissed.
5. Because I did not hesitate to suck cake frosting off of his thumb—in my classroom. Like some sex-starved mouth vacuum. Who does that? School teachers in pornos, that’s who.
6. Because if I got that attached to a guy who didn’t arouse me even half as much as this one does (side note: fuck you, Brent), what the hell is going to happen to me if I actually allow myself to fall for someone like Alex Vega? I can’t be trusted to mold young minds if I’m obsessing about licking sexy earlobes all day.
7. Because I’ve already broken an unofficial school rule by Googling the shit out of “Alex Vega,” and wowza, did I fall deep into an Internet K-hole. Before I knew it, an hour and a half had passed, and I wish I could unlearn that he’s a Hollywood’s Hottest Bachelor or that he’s the youngest person ever nominated for a Tony award for the direction of a Broadway play. He was co-director, but still. And I actually saw the movie he directed last year. The first week it was in theaters. Brent didn’t want to go with me, so
I went to a matinee by myself. And I loved it. It was exhilarating and soulful and fun and sexy. It never would have occurred to me to look up who directed it. But now I know.
Now I know he was a teenage actor and that seeing pictures of him with his Disney Channel co-stars makes me feel super creepy because damn, they were all so cute.
And I can’t unsee those pictures of him with his stunning ex-wife, the dancer.
Or those pictures of him with various actresses he’s dated since he got divorced.
8. Because I’ve been trying so damn hard to keep myself busy so I don’t email him. Because I just want to connect with him again, somehow. But I’m not going to. I do have some restraint. I mean, I’m trying to teach his son how to have some restraint, for crying out loud.
I’m not going to email him.
I definitely won’t.
Chapter Eleven
TO: [email protected]
FROM: [email protected]
Subject: Hello
Dear Mr. Vega,
I felt it was necessary to follow up today’s meeting, since we were not able to speak candidly in front of your son.
I would like to make it clear, if it wasn’t obvious, that I was shocked to discover that you are Ryder’s dad. I had not Googled you before, so I did not put a face to the name. Given that your ex-wife will be out of the country for several more months and you are currently his primary caregiver and family contact, I’m sure you understand that it’s important we establish proper boundaries and etiquette. Going forward, I think it would be best if we just put things behind us and pretend that we met in person for the first time today.
Troublemaker Page 7
