by Hazel Parker
If I had to take an educated guess, I think both of us recognized the attraction between the two of us, but neither of us wanted to be the one to pull the trigger. Neither of us wanted to be overheard, and neither of us wanted to take the gamble and the risk.
So, what would Sensei the club member do?
Actually, don’t ask that; he’s the overly cautious one.
What would Alyssa have you do?
“Well, perfect,” I said, looking at my phone. “Miss Ross, I appreciate your time. I’d like to talk more to you about this, and other matters.”
Courtney arched a single eyebrow. It was the perfect response.
“Do you have my phone number down there?”
“Yes, I do for all parents.”
Good. That means we can maintain appearances here.
“Call me tonight or tomorrow if you have a moment. I would love to ask a few more questions but don’t want to take up all your time tonight.”
Courtney leaned back in her seat, hands folded in her lap, nodding.
“That sounds delightful, Mr.… Vance.”
I laughed as I knew she’d had to make the effort to use my first name.
“Doesn’t have to be about Alyssa,” I said with a wink before I stood up and left.
Around me, the conferences continued to buzz. I saw one set of parents adamantly talking about grades with a science teacher, an older lady who seemed almost bored by the conversation. I saw a long line for what looked like one of the math teachers, a man who looked about Trace’s age. I even saw the school principal from afar.
But at this point, I had gotten what I needed. I’d talked to Courtney, I’d implied that I was interested, and then I had walked away.
Even as I headed for my bike and removed the kickstand, I still wasn’t sure if what I was doing was a good idea. I’d largely acted just in the moment. If I sat back in a detached frame of mind, I would probably recognize that I still wasn’t ready to date.
But Alyssa’s conversation the night after her play, along with seeing Splitter take off with Amber to Hawaii, had given me a kick in the ass. The conversation with Courtney at the play had almost been an organic thing; she really was attractive, and while I called it practice after the fact, it wasn’t necessarily anything I had preplanned. Alyssa and Splitter, though, had given me the proper boost.
I just had to hope this was the right decision. Any interaction with Courtney—or anyone else, for that matter—had the potential to all unravel at any moment, especially if anything happened that involved Olivia, such as going to her grave again or in looking at photos of us. A part of me wondered if I needed to remove her from my life to create room for a new woman.
But among all the non-negotiable things in my life, that was at the very top. I could never forget Olivia, and I could never do anything but honor her memory.
That didn’t mean, though, that I couldn’t take the initial steps to put myself out there.
And as the engine of my bike came alive and I leaned forward, ignoring the glares from other parents, and I smiled.
Chapter 6: Courtney
Is this really something that I’m ready for?
Parent-teacher conferences had just ended, and I was at home on the couch, holding my phone with my computer open to the side. On the computer was a Google spreadsheet with one simple bit of data—the names and phone numbers of all the parents of students at Green Hills High School.
And, with just the click of a button, I quickly found “Vance Newhouse” and had his number right before me.
This is stupid.
Stupid crazy.
But do you think Alyssa would have said that to you if she didn’t think her father would go on a date with you? Do you think Vance would have talked to you the way he did if he wasn’t available?
Still, no amount of rationality was going to work at that moment, most especially since I still hadn’t felt anything for anyone since Nathaniel died. And I’m not sure I could have picked a worse starting point than a student’s father. At least it’s not the student himself. Talk about a disaster of a nightmare—not to mention gross!
It wasn’t unheard of for a teacher to date a student’s father. In fact, many teachers had their own kids in their classes; this wasn’t journalism where conflicts of interest had to be transparent and open. It was just a reality of teaching that it happened sometimes.
Still, I knew I had to be cautious. I already had fears of my reputation being ruined by my drinking; the last thing I needed was for a reputation as a daddy chaser to take hold as well.
At least you only have Alyssa for one more quarter. So if it goes sour, it’ll be over relatively quickly, and then you can move on. Try to date normally in Green Hills.
If that’s even possible, really.
I dialed Vance’s number in my phone, suddenly very easily able to empathize with the awkward teenagers who just gawked at their particular romantic interest, not very good at the art of subtlety or courtship. It was so easy to smile and tell Nathaniel what I liked about him or loved him, and even when we first met in college, it had been relatively easy to make happen. But now, put me in a spot where I had to call another man whom I met through, let’s be honest, a high school?
Those same shaky hands, that same “will I say the right thing,” the same nerves all returned in full force.
I hit call before I could change my mind. I still couldn’t believe I was doing this.
The phone rang once with no answer. I was tempted just to hang up right there, to pretend that this call had never taken place, except Vance would see I had called him. It was better to stay on the line, and—
“Hello?”
His deep voice filled the phone. I gulped.
“Hey, Vance, this is Courtney Ross, Alyssa’s—”
“Oh, yes, Courtney! How are you? Are you single?”
Wow, we’re getting right to the point, huh?
“I’m good and…yeah. Why do you ask?”
I swear I could hear Vance audibly lift a bunch of weight off of his shoulders.
“Isn’t it obvious by now, Courtney?” he said. “I think that you are a fascinating and lovely woman, and I would like to take you on a date sometime this weekend. Is that something that you would be interested in?”
“Yes, I would like that.”
I said the words before, again, I could contemplate them. I figured it would do some good for me to get out there; who knows, maybe it would even help my want to drink.
The one thing that I did notice, though, was Vance seemed almost overly deliberate when he asked me out, as if he had chosen his words too carefully and practiced them over and over again. It didn’t make me want to change my mind, but from the free-flowing Vance I had seen at the conferences and the theatrical production, it did seem a bit… odd.
Probably just as nervous as you were. Remember, he’s taking a big gamble by asking out his daughter’s teacher, too.
“Excellent,” Vance said, and just like that, he was back to being in a casual, easy-going state. “I can pick you up?”
“Yes!” I said before I suddenly remembered something. “Just, not on a bike if you can help it. I hate bikes.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding incredibly disappointed on the phone—but only momentarily. “Not a problem. I have a car that I can pick you up in. Any requests for the date, Miss Ross?”
“Please, call me Courtney; all my teenage students call me Miss Ross.”
We shared a good laugh at that. I suppose on many other women, calling her “Miss” would’ve been seen as a sort of old school flirtation, but on me, it just made things very awkward. Thankfully, not the bad kind of awkward though.
“Any other teacher names I should avoid tomorrow night?”
I guess that’s when we’re doing it, huh? Well, I don’t have anything else lined up, so I guess that’s what it’s going to be.
“Teach would be the only other one. Courtney will be just fine.”
�
�Alright, teach Miss Ross.”
“Stop!” I said, laughing.
We’re already hitting it off. You are something, Vance.
“I had to, just once,” Vance said, his tone implying he was grinning heavily. “So back to the original question. Any requests for the date?”
I paused. I didn’t know if it was a good idea to say that we needed to avoid alcohol this early. It felt like revealing something too personal about myself, like I had just confessed that I had cancer. Truth be told, I’m not even sure I admitted I was an alcoholic to anyone except those at my weekly meetings in AA. I know that people had said I needed to be more open about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit.
Not when my job depended on such a squeaky clean public image.
“How about someplace with dessert, maybe,” I said, deflecting the topic by picking the exact opposite. “I don’t really do much for drinking so perhaps a quiet restaurant?”
That… was commonly said, right? People wouldn’t suddenly start to get suspicious for that request, right? I didn’t think anything would come of it. And if Vance did get annoyed by such a request, maybe that would have said enough about him that I could have gone the other way and left things behind.
“I think I can arrange that,” he said, much to my relief.
I noticed then that my heart was definitely pumping faster. If that wasn’t a sign that I really wanted this, nothing was.
“Perfect,” I said.
A gentle silence fell between us. I think both of us had to register the fact that this date was going to happen; I was actually going to go out with Alyssa’s father. I wonder what Alyssa will say when she finds out. She’s either going to be incredibly proud or shocked that it happened, maybe even a little embarrassed. Either way, not going to say anything to her; I’ll let her say something.
“So, would seven in the evening work?” he asked. “I figure that’ll give you the time to get home from school—God, that sounds weird, but you know what I mean—and change and get ready?”
I giggled at his little line. He was cute.
“Seven works great,” I said. “I’ll text you my address tomorrow when I get home.”
I wanted to avoid him surprising me by waiting for me outside when I got home. I may have been willing to take this gamble, but I still had to take some steps to protect my privacy.
“Perfect,” he said, his voice practically a growl. He did have quite the sexy voice. “This is happening, Courtney. Good times will be had. I will see you at seven.”
With that, he hung up, only allowing me to get in a brief “sounds good.” It was a bit abrupt, and it left me wanting more. Maybe it was by design, then.
I had been curious to see what my immediate reaction would be once this call ended. I figured that it would say a lot about my readiness to date.
Well, at that moment, my mind felt joy. My body felt warm. I didn’t even crave a drink of alcohol. I felt desired, I felt chased, and I felt… normal.
I felt like a woman.
Damnit, Vance. You have me like no one else has in years.
* * *
I normally stayed at the school a couple of hours on Friday to get a jump start on some work like grading and lesson prep. All of the students—and many of the faculty, as well—were in a rush to get the hell out on Friday as soon as they could. As a result, it meant that the best time to get work done, the best time to avoid distractions, was Friday.
But this particular Friday, there was none of that happening. I spent much of my waking time thinking of the date that was to come that evening, a healthy nervous wreck as I wondered what would go down. I had said I wanted sweets and no alcohol, and he was game for that. Would he take me someplace with great desserts? Would he take me to an ice cream or candy store?
And more importantly, how would we click? Could we let down our guards about being on a date? Could we flirt with each other? Or would it be something that sounded good in theory, but in practice, it all went to hell?
It was made even more difficult by the fact that Vance didn’t text me all day except for early in the morning, just affirming he was on for the evening and looking forward to it. I’d hoped that he’d keep a steady stream of conversation going, but instead, he’d mostly just gone silent. It made trying to teach and stay focused a real pain in the ass.
I sat in my chair for about thirty minutes before I just gave up and said fuck it. I couldn’t do work on the computer without checking my phone every five minutes. I would’ve thought that after the seventh time doing it that I would’ve realized Vance wasn’t going to text me until I gave him the address, but I couldn’t help how much I kept checking.
Finally, though, I got home to my apartment around four in the afternoon and sent him the text. It was almost hilarious how quickly he wrote back with a thumbs-up emoji. It made me think the bastard had been watching the phone as much as I had, but just had more self-control than I did. Punk!
I was a girl who got ready pretty quickly, so I tried to kill time for the next hour just watching TV shows and reading, but naturally, it went to no avail. I thought of texting him, asking him if we could do an even earlier date than seven, but I thought that would have looked desperate. After being alone and being an alcoholic for this long, though, is that so wrong to say?
I ignored the self-loathing thought. Tonight was a night to enjoy, not a night to be overly self-critiquing.
Finally, when five o’clock came, I decided to just go ahead and do everything I had to to get ready. I put on a black top that was just the right balance between sexy and casual; jeans that were tight on me; black heels; and a light blue jacket. Though it was April, I got chilly pretty easily, so all it took was one gust of wind for me to wish I would have thrown on that light jacket.
I did my makeup in the mirror, playing top-forty songs as I did so. The music was terrible, but that was the idea; I wanted something bland and cliché in the background while I worked so I had some white noise. I hadn’t put makeup on like this in some time; school just didn’t mandate getting dolled up like this.
I put on some eyeliner that matched my eyes and hair, some blush, and made sure to work on my eyelashes. Satisfied with how I looked, I smiled in the mirror. I had done everything I could have to get myself ready; there was nothing more left to do now but hope for the best.
And, apparently, wait. It was only ten after six. Damnit, I knew I should have waited a bit.
I only had to wait forty minutes, though, because Vance texted me then to advise he had arrived a little early but would gladly wait until I was ready. I decided here that while I didn’t want to be desperate, I could surprise him a little.
I opened the door to my apartment and walked down to meet him, a huge grin on my face that I couldn’t shake as I moved down the stairs. I immediately spotted his Honda Accord, but he hadn’t spotted me yet—instead, he was texting on his phone. I decided I wasn’t going to do or say anything until I got right up to his door; I wanted to see him jump a little in surprise.
I got to the lower level and was about to knock—
And then he looked up.
“Damnit!” I said with a laugh as Vance opened the door and smiled back at me.
He looked mighty handsome—he had on long-sleeve, eggplant-colored shirt with jeans. The sleeves were rolled up, showing off some well-developed forearms that enveloped me in a hug right after.
Not only did he look good, he smelled quite nice too. Whatever cologne he had on, it had a very… piney smell to it. I couldn’t perfectly place it, but it was an utter delight to take in. I had never smelled anyone quite so good, not even Nathaniel.
And when I pulled back and looked in his eyes, he looked like he might just kiss me on the spot.
Thankfully, he wasn’t direct or that forceful enough to do that.
“Disappointed already?” he said, but he said it in a teasing tone that indicated it was anything but.
“Of course not! You look good!”
It was his bald head that made him so damn sexy; if he’d had hair, it would have looked like every other man. But the bald head and the beard on his face was the kind of thing that made you notice him in a crowd; everything else about him was what drew you in, making you unable to turn away.
“You’re ridiculous,” I said.
“And you’re very beautiful.”
“Aw, thanks,” I said with a smile, the butterflies returning to me all over again. “Shall we?”
“Of course,” he said, hurrying around to the side of the car to open the door for me.
What a gentleman! Maybe it’s just because I’m used to teenagers and their, shall we say, lack of decorum, but this is quite nice.
“So,” he said as he got in on the other side. “One question I’ve been begging to know the answer to. How do you handle all the horny teenage boys who want to hit on the hot teacher?”
I laughed at that, mostly because I had never thought of myself in that way. Green Hills High had some mightily attractive women, and while I didn’t think I was ugly, I definitely didn’t think that I was a model. But the flattery didn’t feel fake or sexual; it just felt very natural and real.
“I wouldn’t quite frame myself like that,” I said. “But thank you, though. Honestly, you just have to call them out and keep them in line. Most boys don’t like being called out in front of their peers, so when you warn them, you might get the occasional ‘ooooooohs!’ But it usually prevents it from happening again in the future.”
“Was gonna say,” Vance said with a smirk. “I never flirted with any of my teachers, but some of my classmates did. The teachers who tried to ignore it got hit on even more. The teachers who called them out on it? Those were the ones who got brownie points.”
“Because they have a little spunk, right?”
“Right!” Vance said.
I noticed how he was so much more natural in conversation than he had been before. It was our first private moment together, and I just wondered what would have happened if we had met in public, if we had met at a bar or something like that.