by Ava Harrison
A boisterous laugh escapes her. “Okay, fine, a lot crazy, but in my defense it’s that time of the month.”
“TMI much?”
“Oh, shut it, you love me.” She blows me a kiss and I can’t help but laugh. This is exactly what I needed today after my phone call with my dad. “So, enough about me, what’s going on with you? Why are you pissy today? Bad day at school?”
“Not really.” How do I tell her I’m upset about my dad, confused about my relationship with my teacher, and just a hot mess in general? There’s so much hanging over me, I barely feel I can breathe. “No, things are fine. I’m just annoyed in general over school.” Her eyes narrow.
“There’s something else . . .”
“I called my dad,” I finally admit in a whisper.
Her face instantly grows more somber and she reaches her hands to grasp mine. “Still no headway on that? He still acting weird?”
“No. And yes. But what can I do?” I shrug, hoping the conversation is dropped.
“And there’s nothing else?”
“Nope.”
God, it feels so wrong to lie to her. Like I’m a fraud. If she only knew how on point she is. There is something else going on, but with him being my teacher, I don’t know how to broach the topic. A sick feeling weaves its way through my blood. God, how I wish Carson was just another guy in our school and I could tell her everything.
“Come on. There’s something else.” I shake my head no. “Lynn, I’m not stupid. Whatever is going on, you can tell me. I won’t judge you. You’re like a sister to me. Honestly, I like you more than my sister, so you’re like a sister I would actually choose. Nothing you say will make me think less about you, okay?”
“Okay.”
“When you’re ready.”
“When I’m ready. Promise.”
After eating our food, we head over to her apartment building, dropping our bags inside before we head up to the blow bar one block over. Afterward, we return to raid her closet for the “perfect weekend party attire.” The idea has me wanting to run out of the apartment and pretend I never agreed to it.
“Oh, you have to try this on.” Bridget throws a dress at me. I catch it in my right hand and lift it up to examine.
“No way.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Um, have you seen it? This is not a dress, it’s lingerie.”
“Hardly.”
“I cannot wear this in public.”
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“I can’t.”
“Can you at least try it on for me?” I roll my eyes and turn to walk toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“To change.”
“You can do it here, you know. We’re both girls,” she deadpans.
“Hell, no. You’re perfect. No way am I getting naked in front of you.” Yep. No way am I letting Miss Perfect see me naked. The only person I want to see me naked is Carson.
I shake my head. Nothing good will come from that line of thought.
I look at myself in the mirror and I gasp. This dress is scandalous; it makes me feel and look sexier than I thought possible, but it’s completely inappropriate for a party full of horny teens. This dress is for a date with a man who knows what to do with it, someone like Carson. No one can see me like this, not unless they’re planning to fuck me in it. That’s the only thing this dress is appropriate for, and I certainly have no intention of “getting any” at tonight’s party.
“What’s taking you so long? Come out.”
“No,” I say through the door.
“Get your ass out here right now or I’m breaking down the door, biatch.”
With unsteady hands, I grab at the knob, but it swings open and Bridget is standing in front of me. My arms cross my waist protectively to cover myself.
“Girl, don’t cover up. You look hot. Oh, my God. Your body looks smoking.”
“I can’t wear this.”
“You have to wear this. I’m not talking to you if you don’t. Like ever again.” Normally, I might fight harder about not going, but truth is it could do me some good. I need a breather. A distraction.
I roll my eyes. “Fine.”
“Don’t look so glum. You really do look hot, Lynn. Listen, I know you are not looking for hookups or a boyfriend after what M—”
If she only knew who I want to hook up with. I shake my head and raise my hand. “We are not talking about Matt tonight. Let’s get dressed and get this over with.” The bitterness in my tone rises like bile into my mouth.
Surprisingly though, as Bridget does my makeup, I find myself relaxing. Smiling, and by the time she applies my eyeliner, I need to keep blotting the tears collecting from my laughter. This is exactly what I need. An hour later, when it’s finally time to leave, I’m actually excited to spend time with my best friend at a high school party.
As we step out of the elevator, I’m met with a full-length mirror running down the wall. I square my shoulders. The outfit is fine.
I am fine.
Everything is fine.
This night will be great.
The party is loud and chaotic, and a mixture of cigarette smoke and marijuana lingers in the air. Bodies are everywhere. Across the room, a group surrounds a glass table, one leaning over it with a rolled up bill in their hand. I haven’t even been here five minutes and I already need to leave.
“Bridge!” Mason shouts and leans over, planting a wet kiss on her mouth. He pulls away and then heads over to where the bar is set up to grab her a drink.
“Oh, my God, Lynn, I didn’t know he would be here. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s not cheating on me, and I was just being crazy as usual.”
“See. I’m sure that’s it. Just you being nuts again.” I wink at her and she giggles.
“I wonder who he came with? Or if he’s alone.”
Matt. Shit, is Matt here? The room starts closing in. The idea of seeing him makes my stomach turn. I don’t miss or care about him. If anything I hate him, and after our last run-in in East Hampton, I have no interest in ever speaking to that asshole again.
“Lynn, sweetie, I’m sure he’s not here.” My face must have given me away.
“Who’s not here?” Mason asks as he swings his arm around her. “I missed you, babe.”
She lets out a giggle. “Cut it out, Mase. You’ll mess up my hair.” She peers up at him. “She’s nervous Matt’s here.”
“Nah, at least not yet.”
“Not yet?” Shit.
“Yeah, he had a break from class, so he decided to drive down and hang for a bit.”
“And he’s coming to a Cranbrook Prep party?” Bridget scrunches her nose.
“Well, I’m here.”
“That’s true, and I’m so happy you are.”
“Exactly how happy are you?” he asks as he nibbles at her neck.
“I’ll show you later,” she whispers under her breath.
I need to get out of here. I look around at the throng of people. She’ll never know I left. Just need to give it a few more minutes. I think back to the last party I snuck away from. God, how I wish I was at the beach again. The memories are vivid. How one night could be so awful and then turn perfect is beyond me. I grab the vodka sitting on the counter and take a swig. As the liquid caresses my throat my tension loosens, but even with my more relaxed attitude, I know I have to leave before Matt shows up.
“What up, Lynn?” Lifting my gaze, I see Lindsey from school shouting at me from across the room. I can barely hear her words over the loud beat of the music. The bass echoes and shakes the room. I head over to her, leaving Bridget and Mason still flirting with each other. When I’m close enough, she throws her arms around me and pulls me into a giant bear hug.
“Bitch, I missed you. We have no classes together. It sucks we don’t even have lunch period at the same time.”
“I know, it blows. But isn’t it an unwritten rule we can’t talk about school at a party?
”
“Hell yeah, it is,” Bridget says from behind me, throwing her arm around my shoulders. “Linds, what’s the good word?”
“Oh, just catching up with Lynn. I’m not lucky enough to see her during the day.”
“Yeah, she sucks. She has an extra history class instead of taking an easy art class with us.”
“Oh, shit. You’re in Mr. Blake’s class?” she asks.
I don’t think I can even form the word to say yes, afraid my voice will betray me, so I nod.
“Lucky girl, right? But word around town is he’s a dick,” Bridget exclaims.
“Yeah, I can totally see it, like a hot, smoldering eyes dick. Not that I have a problem with that. He’s hot as fuck.”
“He’s not a dick,” I defend. “He’s just . . . I don’t know, misunderstood. At The Kids Club, he’s different.” Bridget raises her eyebrow at me, assessing my change of opinion over the last few weeks.
“Cheers to the hot misunderstood teacher,” Bridget says, and the two take a drink. “Dude, where’s your drink?” she asks me.
“I’m good.”
“Hells to the no. Get this girl a drink. Someone get this girl something!” she hollers. As if the alcohol gods were listening, a fresh glass that I imagine is filled with vodka is placed in my hand.
“Bottoms up,” Bridget says, putting her glass up to her mouth, and I take the shot, too. The cold liquid burns on the way down, but it also works to relax me. As soon as I’m done, the glass is snatched from my hand and I’m dragged to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. Moving my body with the beat of the music, the rest of my nerves fade away. It feels good to let loose.
After about an hour of dancing, I move out of the center of the room to get air, and someone grabs my arm. Looking over my shoulder, Bridget is staring at me.
“Listen, I’m going to head out of here,” I yell over the music.
“Now? But the party just started.”
“I’m not feeling so well.”
“It’s only . . .” She peeks at her phone. “Dude. It’s not even ten. You can’t—” Her footing slips, and Mason catches her. “Fine. Go. You’re a total buzz kill anyway. Good thing I love you.”
“I’ve been hanging with you for hours,” I say, defending myself.
“Still a buzz kill.” She lifts up her drink as if that will prove her point. “Just kidding, girl. I love you. Go. Feel better.”
“Okay, I’ll call you later. Have fun.”
Taking a few more steps, my arm is yanked again and my whole body goes straight when I see who’s holding me.
Matt.
Just looking at him gives me a bad taste in my mouth. His eyes are half shut, and the smell of booze radiates off him in waves. It makes my stomach turn over and I feel bile collecting at the back of my throat. How did I ever find this guy attractive?
“Youlookhot,” he mumbles without even breaking up the words. My eyes roll of their own accord. He steps closer to me, his hand unwrapping and trailing down the skin of my arm instead. “Missyou so.” He hiccups. “Bad. Mistake to dump you.”
“But you did, and so potently, too,” I lash out.
“Want you back, miss fuc—”
Forcefully I push him off me, halting his words as he stumbles to right himself. “Leave. Me. Alone.”
Without another word, I head straight for the door, just needing to get out of there. As I make my way outside of the building, I consider hopping in a cab, but instead, I choose to walk. It’s a straight shot down Fifth Avenue and I can use the fresh air.
A few blocks later, I see Cranbrook at the corner. I only have a few more blocks until I’m home. My feet are starting to hurt, but I push through the pain as I pass the school.
“Lynn!” someone calls out amid the sounds of the traffic.
Looking up, I see Carson walking toward me. By the time he reaches me, my heart is racing so fast I fear I might pass out.
His eyes sweep across me, taking in my attire. I watch as they darken and dilate, his lips parting. “Wow,” he murmurs under his breath, so low I barely hear him.
Heat flashes across my face, down my exposed arms, and continues all the way to my toes. “Hi,” I squeak as I try to cover myself.
“Um, you look . . .” His gaze flashes over to the school behind him and he clamps his mouth shut. “What are you doing walking around at this time of night looking like that?” He looks me up and down. The blue of his eyes are dark, his jaw set harshly.
My stomach drops. First Matt implies I’m only good for fucking, and now this. “Like what? Like a slut? Is that what you mean?” My shoulders slouch forward, and I wrap my arms tightly around my waist.
“Shit.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that, Lynn. You look . . . Fuck.” He looks around again and then pulls my arm. “Come on, I’ll walk with you. Which way are you going?”
“Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to walk with me in the middle of the night, Mr. Blake?” I bite out in an overly sarcastic tone. He laughs, and the sound echoes around us, instantly lightening the mood.
“I’m doing my civic duty as a man. A woman as beautiful as you should never walk alone. So, where are we going?”
I expel a big puff of air. “Three more blocks.”
We walk the first half block in silence.
“Where were you?” he finally asks.
“A party.”
“Ah, the weekly Friday night party for Cranbrook. I remember those.” His lips lift into a smirk that makes me want to melt. Why does he have to be so damn handsome?
“Oh, yeah, I always forget you went to Cranbrook.”
“One of the reasons I was able to get a job there right out of college.” His brow furrows. “They treat their alumni rather well.” Small crease lines accent his face. “That, and my father is still a large supporter.” There’s no hiding the disdain in his voice.
“So, why were you still at school?”
“I was catching up. Didn’t want to have to work this weekend.” He shakes his head back and forth. “It’s never-ending though—damn students.” He winks as his lips turn up.
“What made you want to be a teacher?”
“I went through a rough time when I was in school. I was a real fuck up. But there was this one teacher my senior year who took me under his wing and changed my life. He helped me channel my emotions.”
“How?”
“Running. Mr. O’Brian taught history, but he also coached track. For some reason he decided to help me. He saw something in me that was worth fixing, I guess. He told me to meet him at the track after school, and the rest is history. When I’m running, I lose track of everything. It’s just me and the air hitting my face. All my troubles fade away with each drop of my feet, and I feel a euphoric peace.”
“I understand. I’m still looking for something to give me that kind of peace. I guess the closest I get to that feeling is heading out east to our house in the Hamptons and watching the ocean.”
Silence descends again as we walk the block leading up to my brownstone. Turning to the side, I gesture to the building.
“This is my stop. Thanks for keeping me company.” I halt my movements and turn to face him. For some reason I’m nervous. It’s like we’re a couple kids after a first date, wondering if he’ll kiss me while he works up the courage to make the first move. His lips tip up as if he’s thinking the same thing and I bounce from foot to foot.
“My mom isn’t home. Would you like . . . Do you want to come . . .” I pause and bite my lip.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea right now.” He doesn’t break my gaze, and the words feel like daggers against my heart.
“You don’t have to worry, she’s out of town.”
“I really shouldn’t.”
Disappointment floods me. I mentally chastise myself for being an idiot. It’s one thing for him to kiss me, another for me to think this was more. I turn to head up the stairs, but I
can’t help myself. I need to see his face one more time, so with a glance over my shoulder, I say, “Good night, Carson.” I take another step up without another word, but then I hear him cough and I peer back at him over my shoulder.
“You know what? Actually, yeah . . .”
My mouth drops open.
He smirks at me and takes a step up as my hand shakes to pull the keys out of my bag. We ascend the last steps to the door and then step inside.
The tension is palpable.
When we make it to the living room, I motion for him to sit. Positioning myself on the chair across from him, the room is completely void of sound. Neither of us speaks. In the distance, I hear the steady beat of a clock.
God, this is awkward.
My heart pounds recklessly in my chest.
Please say something, Carson, or this will be unbearable.
“Lynn, where’s your mom? At the beach you mentioned she’s never around, and well, obviously she’s not here now.”
That was not what I was hoping to discuss. At all. “Away.” I shrug.
“Yes, I can see that.” He smirks and the muscles in my face loosen. “But where?”
“Honestly, I have no clue.”
“How is that even possible?” His eyebrow rises, and I can tell he’s actually interested to hear this, so I lean back and get comfy in the chair. This might take awhile.
“She’s dating this new guy, trying to make him husband number four. He’s got a boatload of money—obviously, or she wouldn’t be with him. She goes everywhere he asks, and I’m not welcome because he doesn’t like me.” I lower my gaze to my knees and bite my lip. As much as this is my life, and I should be used to it by now, it still hurts.
“I understand.”
My head pops up at his admission. There is so much sincerity in his voice. “Are your parents divorced too?” I want to know everything about his man.
“No, my parents are a whole different type.” He bites his lower lip.
I can tell he’s trying to hold back whatever is bothering him, but I want nothing more than to tear down his walls. “I know it’s hard to speak about this stuff, but, um . . .” I meet his eyes. “You can talk to me if you like.”