Tarryn
I packed, drove, and showered quickly so I could make the morning meeting on time. I wondered if April would be there now that she seemed close to being brought on as a full-time teacher. Hopefully she would be. I’d have to decide whether to sit next to her and breathe in her intoxicating floral scent or if I wanted to sit on the opposite side of the room so I could simply gaze. Or stare. Let’s face it — I would probably stare.
The room was half-full when I arrived with five minutes to spare. A few of the teachers looked up when I came in. Their faces registered surprise, clearly not expecting to see me back so soon. I got a few nods in my direction but no one spoke. Teachers aren’t usually morning people unless they’ve had their cup or two or six of coffee. Their silence made it evident that the liquid brown drug was not yet coursing through their bodies. Or that seeing me was a little awkward, considering the state I was in when they last saw me.
April was seated on the second row, and seemed to be lost in a pile of paper on her lap. She was wearing a long-sleeve white button-up shirt, sleeves folded halfway up her forearm. Her skirt was black, and her hair was back in a ponytail. Her outfit brought to mind just about every teacher fantasy I had ever allowed myself to indulge in while growing up. Because her hair was pulled back, the pearly white skin of her neck was exposed. I was starting to have serious vampire thoughts.
I will kiss that neck, I told myself. More than once.
I had never promised myself that I would kiss the body of a married woman before, but there’s a first time for everything, I guess. There was something about her neck that made me want to claim it for my own. So Maniac Marco could go fuck himself for all I cared. Knowing what I did about him, he probably wished he could fuck himself. Arrogant prick.
I snuck my way into the third row and took a seat behind her, one seat over to her left. When I sat down, I felt like I had immersed myself in a field of lilies, her soft, sweet scent filling my nose and lungs.
Yeah, her neck is mine.
Among other things.
“Good morning,” I said, not wanting to stir her from her paper reading. But very much wanting to also.
She turned around.
“Oh, hey you,” she said with a sense of familiarity that made my nerves tingle. “Good morning back.”
All she had to do was smile and I swear I would have done anything she asked. Including commit serious crimes.
“Is this your first meeting?”
“No, I came to the meeting on Tuesday also.”
“Oh, nice.”
She lowered her head and her voice, “They are so much fun!”
This time I smiled. Sarcasm almost always made me smile.
“Why are you sitting back there?” she asked. “You’re dumb. Sit next to me.”
She patted the chair to her right and I went straight for it, like a dog being called to the side of its owner. There hadn’t even been a second thought, just an immediate response. Surely, anyone paying attention would have thought I was pathetic.
Sitting next to her brought the sensation of diving headfirst into the aforementioned lilies. She wasn’t wearing too much perfume by any means, but what she had sprayed on was severely dangerous to my brain.
The meeting better start soon or I can’t be held responsible for what I do next.
“What are your thoughts on James Joyce?” she asked as more teachers shuffled in.
Her question caught my lily-obsessed mind off-guard.
“Uh...”
“You’ve read him, yes?”
I could read the look on her face as she read the look on mine. I had never read him, and she could clearly read that on my face.
“Oh my God,” she said under her breath. I couldn’t tell whether she was mortified or repulsed.
“There are plenty of authors, April. I haven’t had a chance to get to them all!” I said, feebly trying to defend myself.
“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “No. That doesn’t fly with me.”
My mind was trying to race through a list of authors I had read, ones I thought maybe she hadn’t.
“Well, what about Michener? Have you read him?” I asked.
She looked at me with a look of incredulity. And then she laughed.
“Are you asking me if I have ever read a Pulitzer Prize winner?”
Shit.
“You’re going to have to try a little harder with me, Luke.”
God, I loved this woman.
“What about Joseph Conrad?”
More snickers.
“Heart of Darkness, Nostromo. Come on, Luke.”
The meeting started, and we had to stop. But my mind continued. I started compiling a list in my head of authors that I could try to use against her. I wasn’t about to lose this easily. I paid attention to nothing that was said during the meeting. A passing mention was made about my return, I think. But my mind was occupied.
As soon as we got out into the hallway and started our walk together to our classes, I picked up again where we had left off.
“D.H. Lawrence?”
“Lady Chatterley’s Lover. I read that in high school because I thought it would be particularly scandalous. It wasn’t what I expected.”
“E.M. Forster?”
She actually stopped when I said his name.
“Any person worth a damn has read Howard’s End. Fact, Luke.”
I glanced around quickly to make sure no one was around to hear the “damn”. Thankfully, no one was on our end of the hallway.
“Less casual swearing in the hallway, ma’am. You don’t want to get fired before you even get hired.”
“Are you going to turn me in?” she asked, and I could have sworn she batted her eyes.
“No ma’am,” I said, knowing that even though I wasn’t a blusher, I was probably blushing now. She was sultry.
“There you go with that ‘ma’am’ shit again,” she said, putting very clear emphasis on the word “shit”. She wasn’t going to back down.
“Are you normally this defiant?” I asked, wanting to jump her right there in the hallway and claim her neck and every other part of her as mine.
She shook her head, slightly.
“I guess you just bring out the best of me,” she said.
With that, she turned, and walked into her classroom, giving me a splendid look at her ass.
When did I become an ass guy? Better yet, when did I become the kind of guy who had the hots for a married coworker?
Classes may have started but that didn’t keep us from communicating. I felt a little childish for basically texting her as soon as I sat down at my desk.
Wharton...
I figured I could judge by the amount of time it would take her to answer whether or not she was looking the author up. Even if she had read it, if she took a while I would just assume so and hold it against her.
Her response was immediate.
I thought we already discussed you asking me about Pulitzer winners? ;-) Dammit. Age of Innocence.
I needed someone who hadn’t received any significant awards. Time for a curveball.
Collins.
Who?” she asked. Then followed with, Jackie Collins? Do you take me for a reader of trashy novels?
No, not Jackie. Suzanne.
I’m not familiar with that name.
This time I was shocked.
If you tell the students that, they might lynch you.
Why? What did she write?
Oh, just this little series about games. And hunger.
Huh?