“I got held back freshman year since I switched schools. It was easier to start it over again.” Since we’re playing question and answer. “Why would your girlfriend be jealous of me?”
“Ex,” he corrects. “I have to get used to calling her that. She’s been my ex long before she split last night. And I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”
I smile at his answer. He’s so chaste about it, looking away. “No, come on, Mr. Ean. Tell me. Why would she be jealous of me?”
He looks at me, uneasiness all over his face. “Use your imagination.”
“I’m not very imaginative. Tell me.”
“Because you’re beautiful. I suppose that’s why. Happy now?”
My cheeks blossom with heat. I try and hide my smile but it pops through. That’s two honest smiles in one day. I’m on a roll around this man. “I’ve never been called that before.”
“Of course you haven’t. What eighteen-year-old idiot’s going to call a girl that? They’re all sexy, or hot, or ‘yo, baby, can I get your number?’” He makes movements with his hands, making me laugh. He grins. “I saw a boy the other day tell a girl she had a nice rack. A nice rack, Kaelyn. And she smiled, like he told her she was the most beautiful girl in the world. What is this world coming to?”
I sigh dreamily. “Man, I wish Brady would acknowledge my rack.”
He rolls his eyes. “Brady McAlister?”
“Yeah …”
“The Varsity football player Brady McAlister?”
I almost fall over thinking about him in his uniform. Tight pants, muscles, and that sweat trail that glides down his temple. “That’d be the one.”
“Let me guess. The girl he’s always hanging all over after the games is Nessa?”
“You don’t forget anything, do you?”
“Excuse me for listening when you talk. I can pretend to listen if that’s what you want?” He looks away.
“That isn’t what I meant.”
He cups his hand to his ear. “Did you say something?” He looks at my breasts. “Nice rack. How’s that for a man?”
He’s trying to prove a point, but he’s so not himself it’s hilarious. I lean against him and giggle, laughing harder when he frowns at me. I pat his shoulder and sit up, wiping a tear from my eye. “Now that’s a real man right there.”
“Really looking for an ass beating. Seriously, Kaelyn,” he says, looking around him before he continues. “Brady’s a bit of a dipshit.”
I gasp. “Mr. Ean!”
“He is. It’s a wonder he’s passing any of his classes.” I look away, guilty, but he catches it. He catches everything. “You don’t let him copy off you, do you?”
I bite my lip.
“Kaelyn.” He grabs my chin and pulls my eyes to his. “You suffer every day over this guy and have the audacity to let him copy off you? What class are you guys in together?”
“Calculus.”
“Ever think about switching to mine?”
“I’m not leaving Brady to fend for himself.”
“Why? He’s not protecting you. You think he doesn’t know how you feel? Men are idiots, but we know when a woman likes us. I can guarantee he’s planting bugs in Nessa’s head, and watching you both go in circles. Has it all but wants a little bit more.”
I yank my chin free. “Brady isn’t like that at all.”
“Do me a favor? Tomorrow in class ask to copy his homework. Let’s see what he does for you.”
“Do me a favor too?” I shoot back. “Tomorrow find somewhere else to sit.” I get up to leave but he grabs my hand, and I yank on him when I rush away. “What?” I demand meanly, seething into his eyes.
“Say ‘bye’ nicely.”
“What?”
“I’m sick of women running out on me. Just say: ‘Goodbye, Mr. Ean. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Humor me,” he snaps impatiently, dropping my hand.
“Goodbye, Mr. Ean. I’ll see you tomorrow. Is that better, Julian?”
He raises his eyebrows at his first name. “Sure, Miss Jefferies.”
Damn it. He knows my last name. He probably looked me up. “I have to go.”
“Of course you have to go. You all have to go.” He gets up and brushes his backside off. “Well, I have to go too.”
I notice what he’s wearing then. Those damn dark blue slacks. I study how they drape over his hips, smoothing around his perfect ass. They hug his thighs as well, highlighting every curve and feature from the waist down. His dark gray shirt is untucked from his slacks and rolled up at the sleeves. His hair’s styled like it was at dinner and his jaw is smooth and stubble free. I bet he’d look amazing with a beard.
When he turns around, I’m still standing there. My mouth is dry for some reason. I am immobile.
He walks past me and opens the side door. “I thought you had to go?”
I slip past him and enter the music hall. “I do, Julian.” I get a thrill out of saying his first name. It makes him less in charge somehow, and more my equal. I have no equals, and inside I cling to the idea that I do for a few minutes.
Together we walk down the hall. He’s in front and I’m slightly behind him. I refuse to stare at his ass, but damn it, I can’t help it. Those pants are incredible. No wonder all the girls talk about them. When he walks, he makes it worse. I watch his back under his gray shirt. I can see the muscles there move as he does. I picture running my hands over it the way I did Brady’s, digging my nails into his flesh, and for one second I don’t want to think about Brady. It’s the first time in years where I’ve purposely pushed him out of my thoughts. I just want to think about Mr. Ean. And the thought is so wrong, so not me, I force my gaze from his body.
As if he knows I’m ogling him, he looks over his shoulder at me.
“What?” I clear my throat.
He doesn’t say anything. He smiles privately and keeps walking. Am I beautiful? Did he mean that?
When we get to the intersection in the hall he heads right without a word, and I continue straight. But I stop and watch him until he gets to his door. He stops too and looks down the hall at me. Before he goes in, I catch him smiling to himself.
I smile to myself as well. Because Mr. Ean is a total babe and he thinks I’m beautiful.
Does Brady think I’m beautiful?
“You’re so hot, Kaelyn,” he’d whispered in my ear when we had sex in the back of his truck.
Losing my virginity to him was the highlight of my pathetic life. And yet the following Monday he showed up to school with Nessa. My life had been hell since. I know he used me. I’m unwilling to admit it most days, but today is a day where I can accept that Brady McAlister manipulated my feelings. In calculus, we’re friends, like we were before we had sex and he started dating Nessa. Everywhere else we are silent enemies. He ignores me, almost to the point of pain. Everything Brady has done to me is to the point of pain. Some days I fall into it, and others like today I straddle that painful line without falling completely.
I’m starving when class starts. I haven’t eaten since last night. It’s like this most days. Bruce doesn’t like me eating his food, and since he takes every dime I’ve made so far, my only chance to eat is the free meal I get at work. It’s a good thing I work five days a week or I’d starve. After a few more classes with vain teachers and clueless classmates, I make a dash for my locker.
At first, it’s like at the end of every day. I pick the books I’ll need for homework, and stuff my backpack with them. But today I have this impulse I never had before. I deny myself for as long as possible.
Then I give in.
Only for a minute, I appease.
I peek down the hall and spy Mr. Ean hanging out near his door talking to Carmen. I watch the way she toys with her hair and can’t stop looking up at him from under her lashes. But mostly I watch him for a reaction. He doesn’t give her one. It’s as if he’s bored and being nice. I can sense his irritation from here, the way his shoulders tense, and yet he still has a sweet smile
on his face.
I decide to save him. I slam my locker and zip my bag, weaving through the bodies for his classroom. “Sorry I’m late,” I announce.
He frowns at me, but he’s a smart man and catches on fast. He smiles at Carmen and pats her shoulder awkwardly. “We’ll talk more about the test tomorrow. Kaelyn’s got some making up to do.”
By the look she gives him, she wants to do some making up too. “Yeah, okay. Bye, Mr. Ean,” she mumbles, crestfallen. She gives me an envious look before walking away.
“Get in there,” he orders gruffly, pointing at the classroom.
People look at me sympathetically as if I’m in trouble. I bite my lip and ignore the sting. If I smile my cover’s over. He closes the door behind him. When it’s locked, he leans against it and takes a deep breath.
“Long day?” I guess.
“The longest. Thank you.” There’s a grateful glint in his eyes.
“She has a crush on Mr. Ean. Don’t be too hard on her.”
He groans and pushes away from the door. “What does she think? I’m going to reciprocate? She’s sixteen.” I smirk, earning a glare. “Oh, it’s just so funny to you, huh?”
I let out a laugh, unable to hold it anymore. “Yes. A little.”
He takes a seat at his desk and runs a hand through his hair. “You can hang out in here if you want. I’ve got a ton of homework to grade. Plus, it’s either this or go home and deal with Layla.”
“Can I?” I sound way more excited than need be and rush to explain myself. “Going to the library every day to do my homework can be a pain.”
“Why can’t you do it at home?”
“Trust me. The less time I spend at home the better.” I take a seat in the front row, ignoring his concerned gaze.
“Well,” he says slowly. “You can come here after school every day. I’m here until four most nights.”
“That would be great. Thank you.” My lips lift in a genuine smile. Somehow having an alternative to Bruce and Mandy makes it marginally easier to breathe.
He doesn’t smile back. “I talked to Nessa.”
Uh oh. “She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?”
Mr. Ean turns his computer on and looks at the screen as he talks. “More like a liar. She says you’re the one who instigated the fight, and that if you don’t stop, she’s going to the principal.”
My anger is swift and my fear swifter. “I told you not to say anything.”
He continues as if I didn’t react. “I told her I knew otherwise. Which pissed her off. I’m not afraid of her anger. What is she going to do to me? I told her I knew she was bullying you and that if she didn’t stop the principal would be on my side when it came time for punishments.” He looks at me sideways. “Forgive me.”
I stomp to the door, but it’s locked. I can’t get out. I’m trapped in here with Mr. Ean. I turn around and fume. “What did she say next, Julian?”
“A few choice words and I dragged her to the office. I’m the adult,” he insists gruffly, patting his chest. “Everyone at this school acts like they can be my friend because I’m not fifty years old. I am a teacher. She can’t talk to me that way.”
“What did she say?”
“Doesn’t matter. I wasn’t bothered by what she said to me. I was bothered that she thought she could say it at all. She got suspended for a day.”
I close my eyes in dismay. “Mr. Ean,” I moan. “I told you to leave it alone.”
“I’m meeting with her parent’s tomorrow night. I was thinking you could come.”
My eyes flash open. “Absolutely not!” I shout. “Are you crazy?” I try the lock again, forgetting I’m trapped. “Let me out of here.”
“Sit down!” he orders darkly. He’s not messing around. “You can’t live your life being afraid of people. She’s not going to keep messing with you with me around. I promise. Please sit down?” He makes his voice softer.
I sit petulantly.
“Do your homework.”
I ignore him, and stare, burning him the way Layla did last night. Our eyes drill into one another. Gray and dark blue, electrical like a bolt of lightning between us. Eventually, I release him and grab my homework, working silently. Fifteen minutes’ pass without a word. He taps away at his computer and makes occasional marks on his worksheets. His cell rings once but he silences it, staring at the phone in sadness before returning to his computer.
As I work, I feel his eyes on me. His gaze is unlike most. It’s so heavy and warm, a pressure settling in the room. I squirm in my seat, eyes cast on my paper. Plus, I’m still pissed. I don’t want to engage.
“What are you working on?”
I continue my calculus homework without responding.
“You’re ignoring me? I can’t stand it when women ignore me. It drives me crazy. Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry enough to allow you to get hurt. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
I write my answer so hard I rip my paper. “Shit,” I hiss, eyeing his tape dispenser.
He picks it up and shakes it temptingly. “Answer me, and I’ll let you have it.”
“I could just take it.”
“I have at least eighty-five pounds on you. I’d like to see you try.”
“You know, it’s times like this when I realize you’re not much older than me.” I cross my arms over my chest.
He grins, unbothered, or really bothered, by my comment. I can’t tell which. “Are you insinuating I’m immature? That’s Layla’s favorite insult.” He starts to mock her. “You’re so immature, Julian. Why do I bother with you? Why do you always insist on talking so much? I’m not immature. I graduated college with my degree when I was twenty-one, went straight into teaching in San Francisco, and then when we moved here so she could be with her parents, I was suddenly immature.” He puts the tape dispenser in the middle of his desk. “Come and get it, Kaelyn.”
I rise, eyes on his as I approach his desk. They’re gray like the storm clouds that will undoubtedly pour this winter, like the sky before a hurricane. They are just so gray. When I reach for the tape dispenser he winks, like he’s granting me a favor as I reach into the lion’s den. He doesn’t technically possess warning signs like a predator, but right now with his hair all messy and his soft supple lips pursed in challenge, he reminds me of a predator. And I wonder briefly what it would be like if he pounced.
Clutching the tape dispenser to my chest, I wink back. I braved the lion and won. I walk backward, eyes never leaving his. “You do talk a lot,” I finally say, calm enough to speak.
“I enjoy getting to know people. I like hearing their answers. Can I get to know you, Kaelyn?”
I look down, taping the hole over my answer with a small piece of tape. It looks like crap, but I braved a lion for this tape and I’m not giving it up. I set the dispenser on the end of my desk. “Sure, Mr. Ean. But don’t be alarmed by my answers. I didn’t have a fluffy pink childhood.”
“I’m aware that not everyone gets pink and fluffy.”
“Did you?”
“Don’t judge me?”
I already am, but give him a reluctant nod. Somehow, I know his answer before he even says it. It’s in his eyes, in the way he regards the world; his world isn’t full of cracks.
“Yes. Doting parents, genial upbringing, and Sunday dinners. But I’ve always been aware that I was my own person, and everything I have today is a testament to that. How long have you been in the foster system?”
“My entire life.” I write my next answer softly, looking at my worksheet as I speak. “My parents gave me up as soon as I was born.”
“How do you feel about it? If you don’t mind me asking? I mean, at some point you have to make peace with it. Do you think you ever will?”
“No. Not when I have to live with creeps touching me when I get out of the shower. Not when I’m starving and have to give every dime I earn to the shower creep.” I stab at my paper, tearing it again. I give up and rip it in half, finally looking at him. “I wi
ll never make peace with it, Mr. Ean.”
He blinks.
“Julian,” he answers quietly. “Call me Julian.” He comes to me and picks up my assignment. “I can print you out another one. Mr. Tane uses the same syllabus I do.” He sits back at his desk and starts tapping away on his computer. A few seconds later, the printer spits out a fresh sheet. Retrieving it, he sets it down and holds it in place with his palm. “Go easy on this one.”
I swallow my emotions. “Still want to get to know me?”
“I would love to.”
“Why?”
“It’s who I am. And I’m wondering if anyone has ever gotten to know you. I want to. You’re … different.”
For a moment, I think Brady’s a loser and I can’t stand him, not with Mr. Ean standing in front of me with his gray eyes smoldering, looking at me like I’m different. But I remember the night we spent together, and I can’t give up Brady. Plus, Mr. Ean’s not doing this on purpose. He’s just being himself. It’s not his fault those dark blue slacks make him look edible.
I blow out a breath and nod slowly. “So, I’m like a math problem you want to figure out?”
“I’m a teacher. I have to figure things out.” He returns to his desk and his work, brows heavy as if he recalled he’s a teacher winking and standing in front of my desk telling me that I’m different, when there’s no way that’s true.
I get back to work as well, but I can’t stop staring at his face as he taps away at the computer. I trace his features the way I trace Brady’s. The fact that I’m comparing Mr. Ean to Brady is frightening me. So, I force my eyes onto my work and finish my calculus just as there’s a knock at the door.
Mr. Ean gets up and unlocks the door at the same time he opens it. Principal Hunt is standing there, potbellied and friendly. He steps into the classroom and gives me an admonishing look, probably assuming I’m in detention.
“She’s just doing her homework, Hunt,” Mr. Ean explains, laughing easily.
I smile sweetly at Principal Hunt.
He looks me over and turns his back on me. “You’ve been elected to be one of the chaperones for the upcoming Halloween dance.”
“By who?”
“By the kids. Over half of them voted for you. Plus, you’re young, you’re hip. It’ll be nice to have someone there who isn’t a grandpa like me.” He starts to do the robot. “I can only dance for so long.”
Under The Peaches (Teaching Love Series Book 1) Page 4