Under The Peaches (Teaching Love Series Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  The shrill honk of a horn tears me from the magic that is his smile. When I look over at the street, there’s a taxi idling with its lights on.

  “You called a cab?”

  “Yes. I knew you’d have to come out eventually. And we’d leave the same way we came. Together.”

  I like that idea.

  “Let’s go home.” I grab his bicep and pull him up.

  He leans on me and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m happy you’re living with me. I’m glad I get to have you so close. I don’t like it when you’re away from me.”

  “Why not?” I hold my breath.

  He laughs once, one last sad quiet fight. “Because I miss you. You know the day we met, and you went back to class, I missed you even then. I barely knew you, still barely know you, but I missed you. Right here.” He pounds his chest. “I’m terrified that someone else is going to hurt you and I won’t be there to protect you. I don’t want you to hurt.”

  I’m angry with myself. He’s pouring his heart out and all I can focus on is walking upright. “Please remember this in the morning.”

  He looks down at me as we reach the cab. He blinks. “Remember what?”

  It’s as if his admission never happened. I imagined it.

  For all I know, he’s talking about Layla.

  How can he miss me, when I am not his, when I am barely my own?

  Chapter Six

  I awake with a start.

  My hand flies to my chest and panic blurs my vision as I look around for Bruce.

  It was a dream.

  Only a nightmare.

  He was standing over me with his jeans undone waiting to finish the attack in the bathroom. When I reaffirm that Bruce is gone, and can’t know where Julian lives, I lie back and take deep breaths until I can breathe properly again.

  Last night comes back to me once I’m calm. It’s left a bitter taste in my mouth. Beer and truths left my mouth fuzzy and my heart confused. The worst part is I can remember every detail, from dancing with Jaz to seeing Julian’s tongue down Deborah’s throat. That memory makes me ill, and the residual memories don’t differ. Mostly, all I want to remember is his admission. As I lie there, I wonder if it was the alcohol talking. People do things they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time.

  Like admitting you like a student.

  Or admitting you like a teacher.

  But he sounded so sincere. It wasn’t as though he was admitting just anything. He had details in his admission, parts that made the whole so much more profound than simple words.

  My head is spinning.

  What if he truly did have feelings for me? The entire concept feels foreign. A fabrication I made up in my heart to hide the lonely parts.

  Like Brady.

  He was happening all over again.

  If I remain in bed any longer, I’ll go back and forth until I can’t think straight. At the end, I’m not even sure it matters what I think.

  I open my bedroom door, listening down the hall for signs that Julian’s awake. Last night when we got home I struggled to get him up the stairs and into his bed. He’d fallen asleep instantly on his stomach, fully clothed and smashed. I’d managed to change my clothes before I fell into my own bed. When I hear no movement, I slip into my bathroom to pee and brush my teeth. I wash my face free of makeup and then put my hair in a ponytail.

  Tiptoeing down the hall, I peek in his room. He’s still snoring on his stomach. I ease carefully on the edge of his bed and stare down at him. I push back the hair on his face delicately so I can see him better. A thrill goes through me as I touch him. At any moment, he’ll wake and catch me. He’ll know I like him more than I should. But in that like there’s confusion and rules I’m not ready to break.

  His breath puffs out and his snoring is the only sound in the room. I touch his closed eyelid, thinking about how gray and bright his eyes are when they’re open. I trace his cheekbones and his jaw, feeling the course trail of hair on his skin. His skin warms my fingertips as I continue down to his throat and pause at his shirt collar. Then I stop because I remember how sexy he looked coming out of the shower the other day. All wet and muscled …

  I leave, fanning myself as I take the stairs.

  He won’t be up for cooking this morning. I resolve myself to the duty. I fight with the coffee maker until I win, and then decide on egg sandwiches for breakfast. It’s easy, and unfortunately, I never acquired the ability to cook past peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Being left alone a lot growing up forced me to be resourceful, especially when I lived with Mrs. Gibson. She cared little for my growling stomach.

  I slather toast with mayonnaise on both sides and then top them with gooey cheese and cooked eggs. I eat my breakfast at the table alone, staring out the back window. The sun is bright this morning. It glares off the glass, warming the kitchen. When I’m finished, I bring his up, precariously balancing the coffee so I don’t spill. He’s still asleep. I put his food on his dresser and then reclaim my spot. It’s almost noon. I can’t remember what time we got in but it wasn’t late. He should be up by now.

  I shove his shoulder.

  “Mmm,” he groans.

  “Wake up. I brought you breakfast.” I shove him again.

  “No,” he groans again, turning his face away from me.

  I lean over his body, pressing my stomach against his back to see him. I put my mouth right over his ear. “Get your butt up. I slaved over the hot stove for you.”

  “Kael, get out.”

  I kiss his cheek. “Get up or I’ll keep going.” I press my lips to his stubbly cheek again, skimming my softness over his hardness. I want to keep going.

  His lips lift. “Not getting up.”

  I know in that moment everything he said last night was true. I kiss his jaw, getting on my knees so I can reach his face better. “I made egg sandwiches.”

  “Shh,” he hushes. “Egg sandwiches aren’t sexy.”

  I kiss his temple, inhaling the smell of his sweat and cologne; my mouth fills. “Is this sexy?”

  “If I say yes, will you keep going?”

  To answer, I kiss his closed eyelid. “Do you remember last night?”

  “Pieces. The last thing I remember is your face when you saw me making out with Deb.”

  If he doesn’t remember last night, why is he letting me kiss him? “What did my face look like?”

  “Probably the way mine did when you dissed me to be with Jaz.” His eyes flash open. They’re off, but this time I know why.

  Holding his gaze, I kiss the side of his nose. This close, his eyes look molten. “But I didn’t kiss him.”

  He rolls onto his back. As he does, I follow, draping across his body and resting my cheek on his chest.

  He looks down at me. “At all?”

  “All we did was dance.”

  “You call what you guys were doing dancing? If you were naked you’d have been having sex.”

  “Why does that bother you so much?” I’m baiting, I know it. But I don’t take it back.

  He touches my face with his fingers, lightly stroking my cheek. As he does, his thumb caresses my bottom lip. “Because I’m jealous.”

  “Because you like me.” I swallow hard against his thumb.

  “Because I like you,” he agrees, eyes wide open and honest. “But I know that like is wrong. Even if you felt the same way, nothing can happen because of it. I’m pushing it right now.” His thumb presses into my bottom lip, right over the slight scar from Nessa’s elbow.

  Even if I felt the same way? I can’t breathe with his finger on my mouth, or his wants reflected in my eyes. I feel sweaty. His words are heating me up from the inside out, like flames licking at my heart. “I like y—”

  He covers my mouth. “Don’t. Please, Kael. I can’t hear it.”

  I move from under his hand. “But I do.”

  He smiles sadly. “I know you do.”

  “How?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Do you wa
nt a diagram? I just know. I can feel it, see it. Some things don’t have to be acknowledged to be true. I bet you didn’t know. I bet you still don’t. I could write it out and spell it for you, and you’d still doubt it.”

  I look down, proving him right. “It doesn’t make sense for you to like me.”

  He gently grasps my chin and lifts me. “You make perfect sense to me, Kaelyn.”

  I don’t want to hear him talk about my senseless sense. “What do we do now?”

  “Nothing.” He sighs and I rise and fall across his chest. “We can’t do anything about it.”

  “Why not?” I ask sullenly.

  “Because I’m a schoolteacher. You’re a student. I can’t quit my job and you can’t drop out. Plus, that’s a huge step for two people who barely know each other. Think about it. We can’t do anything about it without losing what we have right now. I’ve been thinking about it a lot. It’s just like. As long as it isn’t love, we’re safe.” He looks away from me. “If we stop right now everything will be fine. We haven’t broken any rules yet.”

  “What do you mean by stop?”

  “This.” He reaches down to stroke my cheek again. “We can’t touch this way. Even though I can’t help myself around you. I want to touch you so badly. Feel your skin, your blush.” For proof, he grazes his fingertips over the heat in my cheeks he created.

  I close my eyes as emotions rush over me. Desire is at the forefront. Sadness is in the back. That sadness knows exactly what he means. I open my eyes and meet his. “So we go back to before we knew each other?”

  “Not that far back I hope.”

  “Good, because I need you, Julian. I feel better around you. The world isn’t swallowing me whole when we’re together.” I fear he’s not saying something we both know he needs to. “I can’t go back to dealing with everything by myself.” I know it’s risky to admit, but the fear of being alone again is too much.

  “You won’t have to. I’ll still be here. We live together,” he reminds me as if that comforts him. “No one can stop us from being friends. We’ll still talk and help each other out. We won’t lie across each other’s chest, though, and look at me with those beautiful blue eyes.” He licks his lips and winks. “I’m talking about you by the way.”

  My eyes fill with tears.

  “Don’t cry.” He holds my face against his chest. “Don’t do that to me.”

  Most of me understands what he’s saying. We only like each other. Neither one of us is going to throw everything away over the fragile word like. It could change. Like could become tolerance or something worse. But I don’t want to stop this. I need this.

  I push away from him and move to the end of the bed. He lets me go. That’s the part that kills me.

  “Eat your breakfast, Mr. Ean.”

  “Don’t act like that.”

  “It’s how I have to act. We have no other choice.” I don’t know why I sound so bitter. He’s only doing what he knows he’s supposed to. “Like doesn’t go away.” I try and get up, but he grabs my elbow and pulls me back. “It doesn’t go away, Julian.”

  “Like is a lot easier to deal with than love.” His gaze becomes desperate, pleading. “Trust me. We’ve both been burned by it. We both know how hard it can be.”

  The pain in his eyes brings me up short.

  He releases me and runs a hand down his face. “I feel like shit. Can you bring me that coffee?”

  I carry it to him silently.

  He moans in pleasure after taking a drink. “So good. Thank you. How did we get home?” In the span of second’s, he’s reproachful.

  “We took a cab.”

  He groans. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk around you. I shouldn’t do anything I do around you.” His gaze intensifies. “But I forget who I am when it’s just us. I have to constantly remind myself that I’m not allowed to feel these things.”

  I look down at my hands tangled in my lap. “So do I.”

  “And it isn’t like we had a warning. No one told me you were coming into my life. I’ve been trying not to fall for you since you walked in on me with my face in my hands. So far, I’m not doing good, Kael.”

  Over and under, my fingers fumble in my lap. It’s safer if I look at them, instead of the storm that resides undoubtedly in his eyes.

  “I knew Layla was leaving me. That was one of the hardest days of my life. Trying to hold it together in front of everyone when I knew inside I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I’d held on for as long as I could for that woman, and she was gone faster than I could blink. And I’m not going to lie. She’s still on my mind sometimes. We spent years together, but when I’m around you, I forget that I miss her. I forget that I’m supposed to miss her at all. That’s not good for you. To be a buffer between me and my pain. It isn’t fair to you.”

  In my current state, between ignoring and hanging on every word, I admit that’s what he is to me too. A shield between the hurt and me. I know exactly what he means. When I am around him, I forget to hurt, and it isn’t fair because he’s hurting too. But I can’t help it. No one warned me about him either.

  “Julian.”

  “It’s like,” he whispers. “Like and attraction doesn’t mean love.”

  What did mean love?

  “Let’s talk about something else.”

  I cross my legs and watch him sip his coffee. I didn’t want to talk about anything else, but I’d barely managed to absorb his last words, and couldn’t take anymore. “Sure.”

  “Where did your name come from?”

  No topic was safe. “My parents. They named me before they decided they didn’t want me anymore.”

  He keeps his face neutral. “Do you know anything about them?”

  “Just that they liked the name Kaelyn and their last name was Jefferies. Oh, and they didn’t want me. I know that part. Any more questions, Mr. Ean?”

  “Yes, actually. When it has to do with you I have a million.” He takes a sip, unperturbed. “Where were you born?”

  “I don’t know.” I try and remember as far back as I can. “When I was small, I remember living near palm trees, but I only lived there for a little while. The woman who raised me then was mean and she didn’t like me. That’s all I can remember.” I frown, trying to recall her blurry face, but it’s lost, like so many other memories. “The next place I know is Washington. The family before gave me to the Gibson’s when I was five. Mrs. Gibson wanted a kid, but I don’t think she could have them. No one would allow them to adopt or foster with their record. So, they took me under the radar. I lived with them until I was ten. Mr. Gibson got arrested for drug possession and Mrs. Gibson couldn’t stop snorting his stash once he went away. Mrs. Gibson’s sister-in-law, Haddie, took me in for the money. Haddie lived in New Mexico but was cold and unemotional. And then when I was thirteen, Haddie won a lawsuit from a land deal her grandfather had. She didn’t need my checks from the state anymore, so she gave me to her brother Bruce and his wife Mandy in Savannah so they could collect the checks for me. She bailed out to Florida. And now I’m here sitting across from you. I’ve never told anyone that before.”

  He stares at me for a long time. Finally, he shakes his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that might be the saddest damn story I’ve ever heard.” Pity and sadness settle in his eyes. “I’m thankful that you’re sitting across from me. In fact,” he continues, taking a slow sip. “I’m so thankful I’d dance if I could.”

  “You’re not a bad dancer,” I note petulantly. “Did you have to dry hump Deborah on the dance floor?”

  He winks at me. “Did you have to let Jaz grind against you?”

  I wink back. “No.”

  He eyes me as he takes another drink. “Back to you. Give me one good memory you have of the past.”

  I look down. There were none, except for when I first went to live with the Gibson’s, but that short happy time faded faster than a smoke ring from Mr. Gibson’s cigarette. “I only have good memori
es since I met you.” I don’t mention that before Julian it was only Brady.

  “Kael,” he whispers.

  “Too much?”

  “No. I wouldn’t be able to get through losing Layla if I didn’t have you. I’ve known you for far less, and you’ve made me feel things she never did. I know what it feels like to only feel good things around another person.”

  I watch his mouth. I want to taste his words. Savor their sweetness, their emotion. No one’s ever spoken to me like I was worth something. Julian does it all the time. “What do I make you feel?”

  He smiles privately and shakes his head. “Tell me why you dissed me and maybe I’ll think about it.”

  He was really bothered by that. “I’m sorry I did that. I was so mad that you were all over Deborah. I don’t like her. Stay away from her,” I growl.

  He drinks his coffee calmly. “We need to work on your anger. You go from mad to sad in one second.”

  I lean away, trying to be calm. “Are you going to keep seeing her?”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “I don’t know how this’s going to work. I’m supposed to be okay with like and friendship?”

  “It’s all we can have. Look, up until last night, I didn’t think I could even have this. So, for right now I’m perfectly satisfied with acknowledging that I feel more. Later isn’t that far away.”

  Is it fair to ask him that? If all we can be is friends, then why can’t he be with other women? Even if the idea makes me want to scream, puke, and rage, it’s what’s fair. He’s only been fair to me. “I don’t want you to be with other women, but I’m also not going to stop you. You deserve to. You’re an amazing man.”

  “How fair of you.” He doesn’t look happy. “Why’re you doing that?”

  “Because we can’t be together.” I cringe, but he’ll understand.

  “I’d love to be with you. Because I can’t, you think I want to be with other women? That’s not how this works.”

  “Women like you. It’s going to be hard to tell them no.”

  He smiles a little, taking a long drink. “Can you bring me my sandwich? I think I can stomach it now.”