by Jordan Lynde
He shrugged.
“Mr. Heywood—”
“Chris,” he corrected me.
“You can’t sleep in the same bed as me! You’re a teacher and I’m a student. It’s wrong.”
“We aren’t at school,” he responded with a frown. “And I know it’s wrong. That’s why I didn’t try anything with you.”
I stared at him, my mouth slightly open.
“Joking,” he added quickly. “But you look extremely cute while you sleep.”
My face burned and I quickly averted my gaze. He was unbelievable! He wasn’t helping my situation at all. I knew he didn’t know what my situation was, but I was falling deeper and deeper into a hole that would be very difficult to climb out of. Calling me cute was just digging it deeper. But I couldn’t deny it anymore. They were my feelings, and I had to deal with them.
Never before would I have believed it was so easy to fall for someone. Now I realized just how easy it actually was. Because I was falling for my biology teacher.
LESSON NINE
An abundant arrangement of food was set out before me when I walked into the kitchen after my shower about an hour later. I gaped in astonishment at the tempting buffet. Mr. Heywood’s smug face greeted me when I finally looked up from the food.
“Why did you make so much?” I inquired, gesturing toward the table.
“I don’t know what you like, so I just made a bit of everything,” Mr. Heywood responded with a casual shrug.
“A bit?” I choked, looking at the enormous stacks of French toast and pancakes.
“Does it not look appetizing?”
“No, that’s not it!” I uttered quickly. “It’s just . . . I didn’t know you could cook.”
Mr. Heywood chuckled, putting a hand on my shoulder and steering me to the table. He pushed me down on one of the wooden chairs and proceeded to take the seat across from me. “Surprise.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but he cut me off. “Well let’s not waste it, shall we?” he asked, reaching for a large bowl of scrambled eggs.
I nodded meekly, biting back my retort, still in shock by the enormous amount of food he had made in just under an hour. The French toast was calling my name, so I took two pieces and set them on my plate. I drizzled some maple syrup on it and used a knife to cut off a small piece. Cautiously, I put it up to my mouth, hesitating for a moment. Mr. Heywood was staring at me so I abruptly shut my mouth. He frowned.
“Are you afraid to try it?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, I’m just not comfortable eating while people are staring at me.”
He grinned. “I see.”
He put his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his hand, gazing at me more intensely than before. I glowered at him. He was doing it on purpose. I wanted to slap that stupid, sexy smirk right off his face. Wait. Sexy? I mentally slapped myself. I really couldn’t be having those thoughts. Especially after I had spent the night in the same bed with him. It was wrong. How many times did I have to tell myself that? Maybe you should just accept it, a thoughtful voice commented in my head.
Mr. Heywood’s phone suddenly went off. I knew his ring tone by heart now. I took the time that he looked away from me to stuff a piece of French toast in my mouth. It felt like I had just taken a bite of heaven. I chewed slowly and swallowed, trying to savor the taste. Mr. Heywood was still looking at his phone so I quickly shoved a few more pieces into my mouth.
When he looked back up, I was in the middle of chewing all the pieces that were in my mouth. My cheeks were blown out just like a squirrel’s when it has acorns in its mouth. Mr. Heywood snorted, trying to keep a straight face. My face flushed in embarrassment and I quickly tried to swallow the rest of the French toast without chewing. I managed to get half down before choking. Heaving, I covered my mouth with my hand, my embarrassment continuing to grow as I choked.
Mr. Heywood was in all-out laughter now. I continued to hack into my hand until my throat was cleared. Before I swallowed the rest of food in my mouth, I chewed it slowly and thoroughly. Mr. Heywood was still laughing. I glared at him.
“It’s not that funny,” I told him.
“Yes, it is,” he responded, shaking his head, trying not to laugh. “But I’m glad you like it so much.”
“It’s really good,” I admitted, looking down at my plate.
“Well, eat some other things too,” Mr. Heywood enjoined, waving his arm over the food. “I suggest trying the home fries. They are my specialty.”
I opened my mouth to say something in return when Mr. Heywood’s phone went off again. He scowled and I kept my mouth shut.
“These girls just don’t leave me alone,” he muttered, tapping away at his phone.
“Who?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Some girls from your class,” he told me with a sigh. “I gave them my phone number because they thought they were going to have trouble with their science homework. I told them they could text me if they had any questions, but they’ve been texting me about other things.”
I felt a pang of jealously in my gut, and it surprised me. Was I jealous just because those girls had Mr. Heywood’s phone number while I didn’t? That was so shallow! I wanted to grab something hard and repeatedly strike my head with it. “Um, why don’t you tell them to stop texting you?” I suggested, shoving aside my jealousy.
Mr. Heywood shook his head. “I’m not the mean teacher, remember?”
“But that’s not being mean!’ I responded quickly. “After all, you are a teacher and they are students. They shouldn’t be texting you in the first place. I don’t understand why you’d give them a personal number. Why not like, an e-mail or something?” I knew I was babbling so I quickly shut myself up, grabbing a glass of juice in front of me and putting it up to my lips before I could say anything more.
Mr. Heywood chuckled slightly. “Are you jealous?”
I coughed out my drink. The juice dribbled down my chin as I stared at Mr. Heywood’s complacent face. Just as I opened my mouth to deny his accusation, a loud pounding from the door sounded abruptly. I jumped, slopping the juice over my shirt. I groaned peeled away the wet cloth from my skin. Mr. Heywood snickered and stood up, walking out of the kitchen to answer the door. I looked around for a napkin and when I spotted one, I grabbed it and began to spot my wet shirt.
Muffled voices came from the living room as I picked up a home fry with my fork. As I expected, it tasted excellent. Mr. Heywood was a really good cook. I popped a few more in my mouth and chewed them slowly, trying to make out the voices in the other room. When I heard footsteps returning to the kitchen, I turned in my chair. Mr. Heywood came in with another man behind him.
I gawked at the man behind Mr. Heywood for a moment. He had medium-length blond hair and bright green eyes. He was exactly Mr. Heywood’s height, and had almost the same build—except this guy was a little more buff. He looked like he was only about eighteen years old!
When our eyes met, his jaw dropped. His eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head. “Holy shit,” he uttered, turning to look at Mr. Heywood. “Holy shit, Chris.”
“Shut up,” Mr. Heywood hissed, jamming his elbow into his friend’s side.
“Look at her,” the blond murmured, staring intently at me. “Hey.”
It took me a minute to realize he was speaking to me. “Hi,” I responded in a quiet voice, his intimidating look getting the best of me.
The blond man chuckled, nudging Mr. Heywood in the side. “What did you do to her?”
“Nothing,” Mr. Heywood responded, sounding annoyed with the man. “Why did you follow me into my kitchen?”
“Because I have something to tell this pretty little lady,” the blond one informed Mr. Heywood.
“How could you possibly have something to tell her if you’ve never met her?” Mr. Heywood responded with a sigh.
The blond man came over to me and squatted down to my sitting height. He grinned at me and I returned with my o
wn small, sheepish smile. He held out his hand and I took it. He squeezed my hand hard, nearly crushing me. “My name’s Jeremy,” he apprised me. “You’re Holly, right? Interesting name.” He shot a secretive smile at Mr. Heywood that I didn’t understand. Mr. Heywood gave Jeremy a flat look.
“How do you know my name?” I asked curiously.
Jeremy laughed. “News travels quick.”
“News?” I shot a look at Mr. Heywood who rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Yeah. How you got in a fight with the second in command of our gang,” Jeremy told me, smiling slightly.
“I didn’t really get in a fight with him . . .”
He laughed. “Even so, you’re in a little trouble.”
“What? Why?” My pulse increased significantly. I was in trouble? What did that mean?
“Because technically you have opposed the gang,” Jeremy explained. “And also because you were tying to help Mr. Heywood at the scene. That was reported.”
“That doesn’t have anything to deal with her,” Mr. Heywood cut in. “It’s not like they’ll gang up on her . . . she’s a girl.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Times have changed since you left, Chris.”
“They attack girls now?” Mr. Heywood asked skeptically.
“Yeah. That asshole Shawn took over now.”
Mr. Heywood shook his head in disbelief. “Shawn? Are you kidding me? They couldn’t have chosen someone worse.”
“I know,” Jeremy responded with a nod, “which is why I came to warn little Holly here.”
“Warn me about what? What are they going to do?” My eyes were wide as I stared at the pair of men before me.
“Well, they might target you,” Jeremy enlightened me. “Either as bait to lure Chris somewhere since they still have hard feelings about what happened, or for revenge for getting in a fight with the second in command.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” I responded, feeling panic beginning to course through me. “Are they going to kill me? Are they going to do what they did to Mr. Heywood? What’s going to happen to me?”
My hands were shaking now and my eyes were wide as I stared at the pair of men before me. I didn’t know a single thing about gangs! I did know, however, that they could kill people and get away with it. But they wouldn’t kill someone for just getting into a small fight, right? I tried to calm myself, taking deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Nothing was going to happen to me.
“Look! You’ve got her all worked up now!” Mr. Heywood accused Jeremy, coming over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder, and pressing it gently.
“I’m sorry, but it’s better if she knows so she can be more on her guard,” Jeremy responded, frowning at me.
“Why would they go after her, though? It’s not like she’s of any importance,” Mr. Heywood said to Jeremy. “It’s me they are after.”
“But she was with you back when you were attacked the other night,” Jeremy pointed out. “That can be misleading. For example, they could think you’re rallying people to make your own gang. Or if she was your girlfriend, they could use her as bait. Stuff like that.”
Mr. Heywood muttered a few curses. “I can’t just have a peaceful life, can I?”
Jeremy laughed. “That’s what you get after what you did.”
“What did you do?” I asked Mr. Heywood.
“I told you,” he responded smoothly.
I frowned at him. “No, you just told me why you joined. Not anything that happened or why you left.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” he replied quickly. “Eat more food.”
I frowned and put some scrambled eggs and bacon on my plate. Jeremy and Mr. Heywood went into the other room to talk in private. Scowling, I shoved the eggs into my mouth. My scowl faded into a small smile because of the taste. How could I be angry with this delicious food in front of me? But the food didn’t change the fact that now I was involved with some kind of gang. And I didn’t know how dangerous it was going to be.
Jeremy left soon after and Mr. Heywood came back into the kitchen, slumping into his seat and only eating a little food. After that he offered to take me home and I accepted. He pulled into my driveway and drove all the way to the top of it. When he stopped the car he looked over at me. “Is your mom home yet?”
“Not yet. She doesn’t usually get home until the afternoon,” I told him, unbuckling my seat.
“You’re welcome to come back to my house and I can bring you back later,” he offered casually. “I don’t mind.”
My first instinct was to say yes, but I bit my tongue. Spending the night at Mr. Heywood’s was enough. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay with him before I fell for him more than I already had. “It’s daytime now, so I’ll be okay. She’ll probably be home soon anyway,” I explained, turning to face him. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime,” Mr. Heywood responded with a shrug.
I reached out to grab the door handle when I felt a hand at my arm, pulling me back. Turning to frown at him, I found him staring back at me with a curious expression. “What?” I asked, raising a hand to my face subconsciously.
“Huh? Oh.” He let go of my arm. “Nothing. Never mind. See you later.”
“Okay . . .” I turned back around to open the door when someone standing at my front door caught my attention. “Oh no.” Lance.
Mr. Heywood laughed quietly. When I twisted around to glare at him, he glanced over at me and smirked. “Have fun.”
My plan was to quickly get out of the car and have Mr. Heywood leave as soon as possible. When he started rolling down the windows, I stared at him in horror. “What are you doing?” I hissed, reaching over and trying to shove his hand away from the window control.
He shoved my hand away and stuck his head out the window. He honked the horn before shouting, “Hey, Lance!”
Lance looked up at the car, in confusion at first. Then his expression turned to shock and then into suspicion. Finally he narrowed his eyes at me.
“You are such a jerk,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes at Mr. Heywood.
“I know,” he responded with a smug smile. “Now get out of my car.”
I heaved a heavy, irritated sigh before reaching for the door handle. Winging it open, I climbed out, and then slammed it as hard as I could. A satisfied smile slipped onto my lips when out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Heywood with an annoyed expression. Suddenly the car horn blasted and I jumped, nearly slipping on the gravel in the driveway. With my face flushing in embarrassment, I once more returned my attention to Mr. Heywood. He gestured with his hand for me to come over to his side of the car. I obeyed with the slight reluctance. He rolled down his window and I lowered my head, glancing at Lance, who was glaring at me, warily. “What is it, Mr. Heywood?”
“Be careful.”
I rolled my eyes and looked over to give him a sarcastic look when I came face to face with his serious expression. For a second I blanked, surprised by the intensity of it. All remarks in my head were gone. Why did he look so serious all of a sudden? For some reason, it made me feel uneasy. But soon his face turned into a smirk. “Aw, you look all worried now.”
“Who wouldn’t?” I demanded angrily, pulling my head back from the window. “See you later!”
“Holly, wait!”
I waved my hand at him in dismissal without looking back. I heard the sound of his car backing down the driveway. Soon, the sound of the car altogether disappeared and I sighed. Usually I didn’t mind Mr. Heywood teasing me—in fact, I secretly enjoyed it, but when it had to do with my safety, it was a different story. And since it had to do with both his and my own safety, it was a much different story. But he didn’t seem to be taking it too seriously.
“What were you doing with him?” Lance demanded when I was in earshot, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I sighed lightly. “Why are you at my house, Lance?”
“I wanted to see if you made it home safely last night,” Lance muttered,
looking down at the ground.
I grinned at him. “Aw, shucks, Lance!”
Lance rolled his eyes at me. “Anyway, back to the main topic; what were you doing with Heywood?”
“Did you bring your extra key?” I inquired, trying to avoid the subject.
“Yeah. Now stop trying to change the top—”
“Why didn’t you let yourself in?”
“Because I wasn’t going to invite myself in if no one was here,” Lance explained, looking slightly irritated.
“Well, I want to go inside now, so can we go in?” I asked, frowning at him.
He shook his head and took the key out of his pocket, handing it to me. I opened the door and sauntered in, relieved to be able to actually get inside now. Lance took the key back out of my hand and put it in his pocket.
“You’re lucky you thought of giving me an extra key,” he told me, smirking. “Otherwise you’d be locked out.”
I laughed. “I’m glad too. I always seem to lose my keys.”
“Yeah. Why don’t you—hey!”
“Hey?”
“You’re trying to change the subject again!”
I sighed in defeat. “Okay. I stayed at Mr. Heywood’s place last night because I was locked out of my house and he didn’t want me to have to sleep outside by myself. Nothing else.” I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. “We don’t have some secret affair going on, and if you think that, Casey’s been getting into your head too often.”
Lance blushed. “I didn’t think that . . .”
I chuckled and nudged Lance in the side with my elbow. “Come on, Lance! Me dating a teacher? That’s gross!”
“Yeah,” Lance responded slowly, looking more and more relieved. “You’re right. I couldn’t ever see you breaking the law by dating a teacher. And it’d just be wrong.”
I frowned slightly. It was okay when I said it, but I didn’t like when he said that it was wrong. It wasn’t like Mr. Heywood was that much older than me. It’d be perfectly fine once I was eighteen—I abruptly shook my head. I could not be having those thoughts.
“Did you eat already?” Lance asked, leading me to the kitchen. “I can make you something if you want.”