See Me After Class

by Quinn, Meghan

  “You tell me—right here, right now—who is your Mr. Darcy?”

  I roll my eyes. “As if that’s even a question. Colin Firth.”

  “God, I knew I liked you. If only Kiera Knightley was Elizabeth when Colin was Mr. Darcy. Talk about dream cast.”

  “My heart would have been moved.” I laugh.

  “Mine too.” Jason studies me and then leans forward. “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Uhh . . .

  Dottie chimes in, tapping his ring finger. “I understand your passion has overcome you, but remember, you’re married.”

  Jason huffs and turns toward his wife. “Not for me. Jesus. You think I worked as hard as I did to win you over just to throw it away like that?” Jason looks at me. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “I was thinking she’d be perfect for Walker.”

  “Walker Rockwell?” Gunner asks just as Arlo and Romeo join the group. Lindsay and Dylan are late, so we’re waiting to break out the badminton until they get here.

  “Yeah,” Jason says.

  “Walker, as in . . . the catcher for the Chicago Bobbies? Your rival team?” Romeo asks this time.

  “Uh, yeah. Is there any other Walker I might know?”

  Gunner and Romeo both give me a glance and then turn back to Jason. “She’s too feisty for him.”

  “Feisty is what he needs,” Jason says. “The guy is in need of some happiness in his life. Greer would be perfect.” Facing me, Jason asks, “How do you feel about blind dates?”

  And just like that, I can feel Arlo’s heated gaze.

  This just got exponentially more awkward.

  “She loves them,” Stella answers for me, completely oblivious to the war playing out in my head. Only an hour ago I was being turned down by Arlo Turner. And now I’m being set up? With a professional baseball player, nonetheless.

  Normally I’d be ecstatic, but I’m still feeling . . . blah about everything with Arlo.

  I thought maybe I’d made more of an impact on him, that he’d consider the idea of a relationship, but he didn’t even flinch. He could not have distanced himself quicker.

  Which means he isn’t right for me.

  He’s not the man I should be spending my time or thoughts on.

  “Do you love them?” Arlo asks standing from the right of the table, holding an IPA close to his chest.

  My eyes connect with his, and I swear I spot a flash of vulnerability, but it’s gone before I have time to dissect it.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “I’m not opposed to them, as long as the match is good.”

  Arlo’s jaw clenches, and I realize he’s not happy about this.

  Well, guess what, buddy? You had your chance. I’m worth more than a short-term, directionless fling.

  With a renewed sense of courage, I say to Jason, “Tell me more about Walker.”

  * * *

  “What kind of game are you trying to play with me?” Arlo says when I set a few plates in the sink and rinse them off.

  The rest of the group is outside playing badminton. Dylan and Lindsay are finally here, and they’re having a blast.

  Watching Gunner with his son has surprised me. He’s fun and has a good head on his shoulders, but he morphs into a different person around Dylan, and it’s incredibly sweet to watch. And the look Dylan gives Gunner when he encourages him—God, my heart can’t take it.

  “I’m not trying to play any games with you, Arlo. That’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

  “You spent half an hour talking about Walker. You’re telling me that was unintentional?”

  “What does it matter?” I ask, turning toward him and gripping the edge of the counter. “You don’t want a relationship. I do. Walker apparently does, or at least something like it. Why shouldn’t I ask questions about a potential date?”

  “It matters because I’ve had my mouth all over your pussy.”

  I laugh. “Okay, so that means you’ve claimed me? Get a life, Arlo.” I push past him, but he grips my arm, halting me in place.

  “I don’t have claim over anything you do. But be goddamn respectful in my house.”

  I flash my eyes up to his. “Respectful? It’s not like I was humping the table, telling Jason to bring the meat to me now. I asked a few questions. And if we’re going to talk about being respectful, try not getting me off with a vibrator while our boss is only a few feet away.”

  I pull my arm away, and I’m about to walk away, but then say, “And you have no right to even an ounce of anger over this situation.”

  “I know,” he says curtly.

  “Then back off.”

  He takes a step away and I head to the backyard, where I find Romeo hoisting Stella up on his shoulders and parading her around the yard. She has a huge smile on her face, and I honestly wonder when those two are going to hook up, or if they’ve hooked up already.

  “They’re cute,” Dottie says, coming up next to me.

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Are they together?”

  I shake my head. “Not that I know of.”

  “They should be,” she groans. “Ugh, before Jason, I was never this girl, the one who would look at two people and think how romantic it’d be if they were together. Jason has ruined my jaded heart.”

  I chuckle. “I could see how something like that would happen. He’s quite the catch.”

  “He’s quite the handful,” Dottie counters. “And seriously, if you don’t want to go out with Walker, let me know. I’ll let Jason down easily. He can be pretty aggressive when he puts his matchmaker hat on.”

  “Aggressive and persuasive.”

  “Very much so, and honestly, I got the feeling that maybe something was going on between you and Arlo.”

  “What?” I ask, trying to act as cool as possible. “Why would you think that?”

  “Just the looks you two gave each other while we ate. Seemed like there was something there.”

  I chew on the side of my cheek, my mind a fuzzy mess of uncertainty at this point. “There’s nothing there,” I answer. He’s made that quite clear.

  “Huh. Could have fooled me.” She lifts her drink to her lips as Dylan and Gunner perform a game-winning dance on the badminton court, while Romeo sulks next to Stella, who is patting him on the back. “Walker is a sweetheart, though. Rough around the edges, but I think you’d like him. Plus, you guys have the whole athlete thing in common, something I could never relate to with Jason.”

  “Were you guys close in college?” I ask. I found out they went to the same college earlier.

  Jason, Gunner, and Romeo were all in the same graduating class. Jason went the long haul, while Gunner and Romeo for various reasons hung up their cleats and became teachers. But they’re still very close.

  That much is obvious from the playful banter they have with each other.

  “Me and Jason?” Dottie laughs and shakes her head. “No. I admired him from afar but never did anything about it. It wasn’t until years later that we reconnected, and not by my doing, but thanks to my meddling friends.”

  “Oh, I love meddling friends, as long as they’re not meddling with my life.”

  “Agreed. Acting as a meddling friend, now that’s a good time. Which reminds me . . . about Walker.”

  “You’re starting to sound worse than Jason.”

  “I only ask because Jason is going to pester me the entire way home about whether I think you’ll give Walker a chance. Save me the grief of the ‘I don’t knows’ and give me an answer.”

  “And, as we learned, he’s annoyingly persistent.”

  “Exactly.”

  Laughing, I see Arlo move around from the corner of my eye.

  Why not go out on a date with a professional baseball player? For all I know, we might actually have a great connection.

  “Dottie, if you think Walker is interested in a long-term relationship, then, yes, I’ll go on a blind date with him. I’m not a fling
girl. I hadn’t realized how vital that was to me until recently. So, if you see potential, then, yes, I’ll go on a date with him.”

  Dottie clutches her chest. “Oh, God, Jason is going to cry. You have no idea how much this will mean to him.”

  “I think as long as Walker doesn’t cry, we’ll be okay.”

  * * *

  “Impressive résumé.” Keeks flips through her phone. “Offensively, he’s been a key component for the Bobbies over the last few years. Although, it seems that the past two years he’s struggled to achieve the same batting average.”

  “Who cares about the batting average? Look at his pictures,” Stella says, also on her phone. “Hubba-hubba. Love the whole dark and mysterious look.”

  “Can you two please stop?” I say, picking away at the couscous meal I made for myself last night while meal prepping. The recipe sounded good, but the finished product needs a little help.

  “Ah, I recognize your conjecture. His facial structure quite accurately resembles those of a Greek demigod. I would hypothesize a precise merger of Apollo and Zeus.”

  “Well, mazel tov to Apollo and Zeus for birthing Walker, their human child.” Stella sighs. “I haven’t been able to catch the last few games.”

  “Although a boring sport to examine, I wouldn’t mind scrutinizing an inning or two just to observe how authentic these pictures are, as well as see the man squat.”

  “You want to see him squat?” Stella asks.

  “For scientific purposes, of course.” Keeks adjusts her glasses, but the stain on her cheeks gives her away.

  “How are things with Kelvin?” I ask, wanting to send her a gentle reminder that she is, in fact, involved with a man.

  “Kelvin Thimble caressed my breast last night,” Keeks says, eyes still scrolling through her phone, acting as if the information she just delivered isn’t mind-blowing to me and Stella.

  “What?” Stella asks, setting her phone down.

  “Uh, we’re going to need a lot more information than that. Like, where were you, what were you doing, were you naked, or was it above clothes?”

  Keeks looks up from her phone and glances between the two of us. “Is this one of those gentlelady showdowns where we speak of one’s sexual prowess and conquests?”

  “Yes,” Stella and I say at the same time.

  “Ah, I see.” She sets her phone down, folds her hands together and says, “Kelvin and I participated in a sexual rendezvous last night, masqueraded as dining in his motor vehicle for an experiment. Given that we both lacked sexual partners in our teenage years, we were never granted the chance to act with promiscuity in Lovers Lane. Feasting on burgers from the burger king himself, Kelvin asked point-blank if he could hold my breast. Given the variables of the night, I conjectured there was no night like tonight for Kelvin Thimble to, in street terms, cop a feel. With ketchup-coated hands, he reached out and pressed his palm to my breast.”

  Oh, dear God.

  “How was it?” Stella asks.

  Keeks adjusts her glasses again, clears her throat, and says, “An inner carnal beast erupted from the bowels of my soul, and before I could figure out where it originated from, my tongue was haphazardly licking Kelvin’s mouth while his ketchup-covered hand clutched at my hair.”

  Too much detail . . . way too much detail.

  “I tapped into my reptile brain. Arousal spiked, milkshake was scattered over Kelvin’s lap, and I used it as lubricant for—”

  “I think I’m good with the rest,” I say, cutting her off. “Really, I can imagine where this went.”

  “I can’t,” Stella says. “What did the milkshake lubricate?”

  If she says vagina, I’m going to die.

  “The coarse wool of my skirt over the corduroy of his dress slacks.”

  My nostrils flare, and I beg the high heavens to please help me not make a grossed-out face.

  “Well, that’s . . . an interesting mesh of fabrics,” Stella says.

  “The milkshake assisted with the velocity of friction.”

  Just then, the door to the teachers’ lounge opens and Kelvin walks in, Arlo close behind him. I haven’t spoken to Arlo since Sunday, even when passing each other in the hallway. Apparently, now that he’s no longer pawing after me, there’s no need for interaction.

  “H-hi, Keiko,” Kelvin says nervously with a giant smile. He gives her a short wave.

  “Kelvin, pleased to see you. Were you able to remove the milkshake from your corduroys successfully?”

  “Indeed. They are quite clean.”

  “Wonderful. I was just conversing—”

  “About Greer’s date with Walker Rockwell,” Stella cuts in, shooting Keeks a warning look, and for the first time since I’ve known the girl, she understands the social cue. No need to embarrass poor Kelvin Thimble. No, we can just throw me under the bus in front of Arlo instead.

  In their defense, they’ve no idea anything has been happening between me and Arlo.

  “Who’s Walker Rockwell?” Kelvin asks as he shifts closer to Keiko.

  Arlo walks to the fridge and answers for everyone, “The starting catcher for the Chicago Bobbies.”

  “Oh.” Kelvin looks over his shoulder. “I d-don’t follow sports much. Bobbies is baseball, right?”

  “Yes,” Stella says. “And he’s dreamy, Kelvin. They’re going out Saturday night after his day game. Want to see a picture?”

  “Oh, sure,” Kelvin says, leaning over.

  Stella flashes him the screen just as I hear Arlo crack a soda open behind us. I keep my eyes on Kelvin, not wanting to give Arlo any reason to think that I care he’s in the room.

  “I’ve seen his face around Chicago. H-he was on a billboard near a comic book store I frequent.”

  “Dark Night Comics?” Keeks asks.

  “Indeed. Do you frequent there?”

  “On the occasion.”

  “Maybe we can go this Friday.”

  “I’d enjoy that. Maybe we can share another milkshake.”

  “Just don’t spill it,” Stella mutters, and I kick her shin under the table.

  “T-too bad your date is Saturday night. We could have gone on a double date,” Kelvin says.

  “Well, you can always change your date to Saturday,” Stella suggests, and I kick her under the table again. This time, she glares at me.

  “You know, I think Walker would probably just like a one-on-one at first. Double date later.”

  “If there is a later,” Arlo mumbles, walking by.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.

  “It means, he might not like you. Focus on the first date, then the second.”

  “Hey, of course he’s going to like her,” Stella says in my defense. “Greer is a catch. Just because you find her repulsive, doesn’t mean other men will.”

  “Thanks,” I sigh.

  “We’ll see,” Arlo says, pushing through the door and leaving.

  “God, what crawled up his ass and died?” Stella asks, leaning back in her chair.

  “According to the circumference of the anus, there are quite a few creatures that could have—”

  “Metaphorical, Keeks. Christ,” Stella says, pressing her hand against her forehead.

  “Ahh . . . but if it wasn’t metaphorical—”

  I stand. “You know, I should get back to my classroom before the bell rings. It was a lovely lunch. Thank you.” I turn to Kelvin and say, “Good seeing you, Kelvin.”

  “Y-you, too.” He awkwardly smiles and then helps Keeks stand. It’s a sweet gesture, one I’m sure Arlo has never made in his life. He’s better at laying people down where he wants them rather than lifting them up.

  Another reason why I’m going on this date. A change of pace. A way to get my head in the right space.

  A moment to be treated like a lady. And maybe a moment where I get a sense of a happy, relationship-filled future. Maybe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  GREER

/>   Greer: I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  Stella: Don’t. You brushed your teeth.

  Greer: That’s not helpful.

  Stella: That’s solid advice. No one likes puke mouth.

  Greer: Stella, please . . .

  Stella: You know, when I befriended you, I didn’t think you were going to be a high-maintenance friend, but boy, was I wrong. *Sighs* You know that dress is killer on you. The red is fantastic and your boobs look spectacular. I’m quite jealous of your rack. And of course, your hair and makeup are on point. He’s going to think he just hit a home run.

  Greer: Baseball lingo, really?

  Stella: Did it work?

  Greer: A little.

  Stella: Good, now knock him dead.

  With a deep breath, I stick my phone in my pocket and head toward the restaurant, walking around the corner and running straight into Arlo Turner.

  Startling back, I clutch my purse to my side and say, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  He holds up a bag of food. “Picking up dinner. You?”

  My eyes narrow. “You know exactly what I’m doing.” I glance around. “Were you just waiting around for me to show up? That’s creepy, Arlo.”

  “I have better things to do than stalk you, Miss Gibson.”

  “So, you’re saying this is purely coincidental?”

  His eyes eat me up as he scans over my dress and pause briefly at my exposed cleavage.

  “No, I’m here with Gunner and Romeo.”

  All of a sudden, they both come out of the restaurant and say, “She’s not here—” Their voices fade when they spot me. “Oh, there she is,” Romeo says. “We were just—”

  “Spying on me?” I say, hand on my hips.

  “No . . .” Gunner says. When I stare him down, he answers, “Fine, Jason sent us to see how the initial greeting went. We dragged Arlo with us, hoping we could use him as a spy, because Walker would know what we’re doing. But he refused to go inside the restaurant.”

  The bored, I told you so look on Arlo’s face makes me want to punt him in the leg.

  “Well, I don’t want you here. You’re going to make it more awkward, so leave.”