by Jordan Lynde
“I put peanuts in the taco seasoning.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “What?”
He laughed, ushering me into one of the chairs. “Trust me, it’s good.”
“Okay. Can I have a fork?”
“A fork?”
I nodded. “You know, something you eat with—”
“Are you going to do that every time I repeat something you said?” Mr. Heywood snapped, frowning at me.
“You do it to me!”
He smirked. “That’s because it’s funny when I do it. You at least blush.”
“I do not!” I denied, though contrary to my words, my cheeks burned again. “But I need a fork to eat.”
“It’s a taco. You eat it with your hands.”
I ducked my head. “I need a fork . . .” I was definitely not going to eat a taco in front of him. It had to be the messiest meal in the world.
He watched me curiously for a moment before getting up from the table. Moments later he returned, handing me a fork. “A fork for the lady.”
“Thanks.” When I realized he had another fork in his hand I gave him a curious look. “Two forks?”
“I’m going to eat my taco with a fork too,” he told me, dropping into his seat. “I want to know what’s so fun about eating Mexican food with a fork.”
Mr. Heywood shrugged, stabbing his fork into the center of his taco. Some of the seasoning leaked out from under the tortilla shell. He raised an eyebrow. “Are you embarrassed to eat a taco in front of me? That’s cute.”
“That’s not it!” I countered, feeling my face heat up again.
He gave me a smug look. “You can’t lie to me, Holly.”
“Could Holly lie to you?”
Mr. Heywood’s expression was confused for a minute until he realized what I meant. Then his expression became guilty, and he dropped his gaze. For the second time, an awkward silence filled the room. After a moment Mr. Heywood sighed. “She could lie, yes.”
“So how come I can’t?” I complained, ignoring the awkwardness.
Mr. Heywood gave a low chuckle, now appearing more at ease. “Should I be worried about why you want to lie to me so badly?”
“I don’t want to lie to you,” I told him, shaking my head. “But what if I want to, like, have a surprise for you . . . or something.”
“I’ll do my best not to guess.”
“Maybe I’ll ask Holly for tips . . .”
Mr. Heywood pursed his lips at me. “I’d rather you not. Holly was a pain in the ass when she lied. I prefer you the way you are now.”
I smiled at him, not sure whether that was meant to be a compliment or not. It almost seemed impossible to lie to him. How had the other Holly managed it? Maybe she didn’t keep eye contact . . .?
“Speaking of Holly,” Mr. Heywood suddenly started, breaking my thoughts. “Remember why she was in town?”
“To hand out invitations to her wedding.”
He nodded. “Right. Well Jeremy and I both got one. I don’t really want to go—”
“What?” I interjected, my eyes widening. “Why not? Mr. Heywood—”
“Chris,” he corrected.
I rolled my eyes. “Chris, weddings are amazing! There’s cake, food, dancing, pretty dresses—”
Mr. Heywood smirked. “Pretty dresses?”
“Well yeah,” I responded, quickly averting my gaze. “You get to dress up. You should go! I’m sure Holly would really like it if you went.”
“She does want me to go.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I never said I wasn’t,” Mr. Heywood responded, his smirk widening. “You just assumed I wasn’t.”
Once more my cheeks warmed. “Sorry.”
Mr. Heywood held up his hand. “No worries. Anyway, the invite says I can invite someone and since the wedding is in New York, I was thinking it’d be okay if you wanted to go.”
“Me?” My eyes widened in excitement as I stared in surprise at him. “Really? Is it okay?”
Mr. Heywood gave me a look like he thought I was stupid. “I just said it would be okay.”
“I want to go!”
“I wasn’t going to let you say no. However, school resumes the next day so you might be tired.”
“I don’t care about that,” I told Mr. Heywood, smiling broadly. “I definitely want to go. Who’s Jeremy inviting?”
Mr. Heywood gave a half-shrug. “We were thinking you’d like Casey to come so it wasn’t as awkward. Or Lance. I’m pretty sure it’s alright for Jeremy to bring a guy.”
A laugh escaped my lips. “Lance? At a wedding? That’d be quite the sight.”
“So I take it you want to bring Casey?”
“I’ll ask if she can go,” I told him, nearly shaking with excitement. Even though it was still a month away, I couldn’t wait. Especially for the cake.
Mr. Heywood turned his attention back to his meal, mixing up his taco with his fork. “Time to eat our taco salads.”
I ignored his jibe, sticking my own fork into my taco. While he was focusing on cutting up his tortilla shell, I quickly stuffed a large piece of my taco in my mouth. Mr. Heywood abruptly looked up and I immediately slapped a hand over my mouth, flushing. He chuckled, averting his gaze.
“You’ve eaten in front of me before, you know,” he told me, taking an elegant bite of his taco. I narrowed my eyes at him. He was a guy. He shouldn’t be eating more neatly that I was.
“Not this messy,” I finally retorted when I swallowed. “I don’t want to look gross.”
Mr. Heywood scoffed. “You could never look gross, Holly. Now eat.”
Ten minutes later, Mr. Heywood had already finished eating, and was watching me intently. One of his famous smirks played across his mouth as he rested his elbow on the table with his head in his hand. Luckily for me, I was almost finished with my last taco—only two more bites.
“This could be a form of torture,” I pointed out, aiming my taco-loaded fork at him. “Stop that.”
Mr. Heywood switched hands his head was resting on. “It’s not torture. I’m just looking at you.”
“Well stop.”
“Can’t do that. You get to stare at me in class all period long. Now it’s my turn.”
“Then I’m not eating any more,” I stated stubbornly, dropping my fork.
Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. “You’re such a girl, Holly.”
“Oh? Did you want me to be a guy? Jeremy, perhaps?”
Mr. Heywood scowled at me. “I don’t even—You know what? I’m going to go choose a movie for us to watch. Finish your dinner,” he ordered, pushing away from the table.
Resisting the urge to laugh, I quickly ate the rest of my taco as Mr. Heywood left the kitchen. With the way he acted whenever I mentioned anything having to do with Jeremy and him romantically, it made me wonder. When I was done I grabbed my plate and his and placed them in the sink. Just as I was leaving the kitchen, Mr. Heywood was entering. His shoulder slammed into my face, making me take a step back in surprise.
“Sorry about that,” he apologized in an amused voice.
I rubbed my nose, frowning at him. “It’s fine.”
“Go sit down on the couch,” he ordered, going back into the living room. “I’m going to get a blanket.”
“Make popcorn too.”
Mr. Heywood raised an eyebrow at me. “You think you can order me around in my own house?”
“Yep,” I said defiantly, standing a little straighter. His intense gaze almost made me back down, but just before I gave up, he shrugged.
“Just this once,” he told me, holding up his finger. “Now sit.”
When Mr. Heywood finally made it back to the living room, he had a large, black comforter over his shoulder and a massive bowl of popcorn in the other. He sat down on the opposite side of the couch, keeping a large distance between us. Placing the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, he arranged the comforter over his shoulder so that it was covering him. Then he grabbed the popcorn bowl, flicked off t
he lights, and picked up the remote to the TV.
I stared at him flatly. His lips twitched as he turned to look at me. “Oh, I forgot you were here.”
I turned to him, crossing my arms. What was he planning? He snickered and I glanced back at him, frowning. The blanket was off him now and he was gesturing me towards him. “Come here.”
“I’m good.”
“Holly.”
After a minute-long staring contest I sighed, scooting closer. He grabbed my arm and pulled me nearly onto him. A blush made its way onto my face again as he wrapped the blanket around us. After a second I relaxed back into him, trying to calm my racing heart.
We were a couple now. This was what couples did. I couldn’t get embarrassed every time Mr. Heywood did something like this. He was much more experienced in dating than I was, so I had to keep up with him.
“This is much better,” Mr. Heywood murmured, his jaw moving on my shoulder with each word. “Isn’t it, Holly?”
“Yeah,” I muttered bashfully, my face still burning.
He chuckled. “I hope you like scary movies.”
My head snapped around to stare at him. “Wait, horror movies?”
“That’s what we are watching,” he informed me, looking amused. “Do you get scared easily?”
“No,” I lied quickly.
His smirk returned as he leaned closer to me to grab the remote off the coffee table. “If you get scared you can cling to me.”
I squared my shoulders. “I won’t get scared.”
I didn’t even know what movie we were watching, but it was way too terrifying for my liking. I wasn’t a horror-movie kind of girl. Suddenly a loud crash came from the television, causing me to jump violently.
“Holly,” Mr. Heywood hissed, pulling his hand out of my grasp. “Don’t dig your nails into my hand!”
Unable to pull my eyes away from the screen, I patted his leg as an apology
“You could have warned me!”
“I haven’t seen this before.” I gave him a flat look. He grinned. “Okay, maybe I have. But I’m not going to ruin the experience for you.”
“I’m going to have nightmares,” I complained, snuggling more comfortably into his chest, my past embarrassment long gone.
“What if I sleep beside you?”
My heart skipped a beat and for a moment I lost focus on the television. “Together?”
“Couples can sleep in the same bed without doing anything,” Mr. Heywood told me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Besides, last time you were here you slept with Jeremy, didn’t you?”
“Jealous?” I teased, even though my heartbeat was now racing with anticipation. However, I’d slept in the same bed as him before, too, so what was the difference between now and then?
He shrugged. “Maybe just a little.”
“Jeremy will sleep with you next time he’s here—”
Mr. Heywood lightly knocked his head against mine. “I didn’t mean I was jealous of you.”
A smile slipped onto my face as I turned to look at Mr. Heywood. “I know.”
He rolled his eyes. “Watch the movie.”
By the time the movie was over, I was half-asleep. Mr. Heywood gently pushed me away from him, keeping the blanket around me as he went to turn off the television. When he turned back to me, he was grinning. “Don’t usually stay up late, huh sleepyhead?” He came back over to the couch, holding out a hand to me.
When I placed my hand in his grasp, he quickly pulled me to my feet. I stumbled over the blanket and my face smacked against his chest. “I have to go to court tomorrow,” I murmured.
“You don’t have to.”
“I promised Lance.”
Mr. Heywood put a hand on my back, leading me towards his bedroom. “I know. I’d just prefer if you didn’t go.”
“I’ll be safe,” I assured him, barely paying attention to where we were going. “I think I actually want to watch Shawn get what he deserves.”
Mr. Heywood chuckled. “I’d actually like to see that as well.”
“Do you want to come with me?”
“I’d rather not step into a courtroom . . .”
I frowned slightly. “Oh, right.”
“Sorry,” Mr. Heywood apologized, removing his hand. “Want to change into your pajamas and go to bed?”
To be honest, I wanted to sleep in his clothes, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. Mr. Heywood grabbed my bag from the living room and I went into his bathroom to change quickly. When I came back, I walked in on Mr. Heywood with his shirt off. I blushed, not sure whether to leave the room or not. He noticed me staring at him and he gave me a smug smile.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing!”
“I sleep shirtless you know.”
A flashback of the first time I stayed at Mr. Heywood’s apartment whizzed by my head. “I know.”
Mr. Heywood chuckled, gesturing for me to come closer to him. “Well this time I can give you a goodnight kiss.”
My eyes widened in surprise as Mr. Heywood reached out his hand and pulled me the rest of the way to him. Before I could respond to him, his lips were already on mine. After a second he pulled away, his eyes smoldering. I frowned at him, reaching up to kiss him back. He took a step back, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“Eager, are we?”
My face burned while I opened my mouth to protest. Mr. Heywood quickly covered it with his hand, chuckling. “Kidding. But you’re tired, so I’m not going to keep you up. Get in the bed.”
“What are you doing?”
“The dishes,” he informed me, nodding his head towards the kitchen. “I’m not a huge fan of flies.”
I laughed quietly. “Can’t say I am either.”
Mr. Heywood headed back to the kitchen while I climbed into his bed. For a moment I hesitated on which side to go on. Did Mr. Heywood prefer one to the other? I finally decided on sleeping on the right side. As soon as my head hit his unbelievably comfortable pillow, weariness swept over me. I yawned, pulling up the comforter to my chin. The sounds of Mr. Heywood doing the dishes floated in the room and I focused on them, trying to stay awake so I could wait for him to come back. It didn’t work. Before I knew it, I was dead asleep, the scent of Mr. Heywood surrounding me.
LESSON forty-four
“Don’t turn your cell phone off,” Mr. Heywood reminded me for the millionth time. “Just put it on silent. Call me if you need anything.”
“I know, I know,” I responded, turning to give him a small smile. “Nothing will happen though.”
Mr. Heywood pursed his lips at me, looking worried. “Lance is waiting for you inside, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay.” Mr. Heywood looked at the café cautiously. “Text me when you’re inside so I know you’re okay. I’ll wait.”
A feeling of nervousness washed through me as I watched Mr. Heywood’s worried expression. “Stop being so nervous. You’re making me nervous.”
“Sorry,” he apologized, reaching over and taking my hand into his. “I just have this awful feeling something’s going to happen.”
A frown slowly spread across my face. “You too?” My hand gripped
his tightly. “I’d better go inside now . . .”
Mr. Heywood pulled my hand closer to him, bringing me with it. Before I could blink he had his lips against mine, giving me a quick kiss. I inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of his familiar cologne. He leaned back in again, this time kissing me a little harder, and allowing me to return it. I shifted in my seat so I could be closer to him, bringing my free hand up to his face. He let go of my hand, bringing his to my back.
A gently nip at my lip made me jump in surprise. My hand landed on the car horn, causing it to blare loudly. Immediately Mr. Heywood and I separated, my face burning in embarrassment. “Sorry,” I muttered, dropping my gaze.
Mr. Heywood chuckled, brushing my hair out of my face. “It’s alright. It’s pr
obably not a smart idea to be making out in such a public place anyway.”
My gaze returned to his face and for a minute I stared into his eyes, mesmerized temporarily. When he blinked, reality hit me and I blushed again. “I should probably go.”
Mr. Heywood nodded, gently dragging the tips of his fingertips across my jaw. “Be careful, Holly.”
For some reason terror suddenly gripped me and I reached out and grabbed Mr. Heywood’s hand as he was pulling it away. He gave me a curious look, allowing me to drag his hand back over. I swallowed nervously, trying to calm my heartbeat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently.
I shook my head, still holding onto his hand. “Nothing. I just . . . I love you, Chris.”
Mr. Heywood looked confused, but he smiled. “I love you too.”
“Um, I’m going to go now,” I murmured, blushing again. “See you . . . sometime.”
“See you sometime too,” Mr. Heywood responded with a low chuckle.
After one more, quick kiss I exited the car, hurrying towards the café. Just before I entered I glanced over my back at Mr. Heywood’s car. He was watching me, and he raised one hand in a wave. I waved back, smiling slightly before going into the small building. Warmth and smell of freshly brewed coffee washed over me as soon as I stepped inside.
“Welcome!” one of the waitresses chirped at me as I walked by.
I smiled at her in return for a moment before looking around for Lance. After a minute I finally spotted him in the far corner of the café, reading the newspaper. He looked up when I took a seat at the table, a grin spreading across his face.
“Hey Holly.”
“Morning,” I greeted, pulling his cup of coffee over. “Are you ready for this court thing?”
Lance shrugged. “Not really. My lawyer is though.”
It felt weird hearing that Lance had a lawyer. It was like hearing that a three-year-old owned a cell phone. A waitress came over to take our orders and I ordered a coffee and croissant while Lance ordered a refill and a muffin. As she was leaving my phone buzzed in my pocket.
Is Lance with you?
I made a face. It slipped my mind I was supposed to text Mr. Heywood and let him know whether or not Lance was actually here. I quickly typed out an affirmative answer and apology for not texting him sooner. A few seconds later he responded saying it was okay and that he was leaving.