Taught: A City's Secrets Novella

by B. B. Hamel

  “Lancaster. I know a thing or two about not much to do.”

  “That’s pretty much the country.”

  He laughed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was an endearing habit, and I guessed he didn’t realize he was doing it.

  “Yeah, it is. I’m pretty much a country boy.”

  “How long have you been teaching?”

  “Not long, actually. I needed a career move and gave teaching a try.”

  Teaching college courses wasn’t your typical “second career” kind of job. He must have been either incredibly talented or really well connected to get an adjunct position teaching classes without some prior experience.

  “How do you like it?”

  “Better than managing a café,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “You’re too cute to be working at a café,” I heard myself say.

  I had no idea what came over me, or what I was thinking. I probably was too busy picturing what it would be like if he stripped off my clothes in the shadows on the first floor and went down on me then and there. I wasn’t the type to fantasize about some random guy, but there was something about his proximity, the way he carried himself, and the books he read. I was attracted to him without even realizing it.

  His face broke out into a large grin, and I blushed. “Thanks, I think.” he said.

  “I mean, the people working at those places. You know what I mean?” I didn’t know what I meant, but I hoped he did.

  “Totally. I’m taking it as a compliment.”

  “Sorry, that was weird.”

  He shrugged, still smiling. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re the perfect amount of cute for a library.”

  I laughed. “Now what does that mean?”

  “Not sure, but it’s a compliment.”

  “Obviously,” I said, grinning. I felt less embarrassed, and also a little flattered.

  Part of me wanted to squeal like a teenager, and part of me was totally disgusted that I was excited by this random guy calling me pretty. It was a totally exciting and confusing moment, with the fact that we were locked in a stairwell together only intensifying everything.

  “How’d you end up working in the library?” he asked.

  “Luck mostly. I like to read, so I applied. That’s pretty much it.”

  “Fascinating story.”

  “Why’d you start teaching?”

  He looked away. “Not sure, honestly. The head of the music department is a good friend of my dad’s, so he called me after I applied, and things went from there.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense.”

  He looked at me oddly. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, teaching college isn’t really a fallback career, you know?” I said, trying to explain.

  He nodded, a small smile on his face. “You’re absolutely right. I’m really lucky.”

  “I’m sure you’re a good teacher, too.”

  “You don’t have to be a good teacher to run a college course, but it helps.”

  “I bet all the undergrad girls throw themselves at you.”

  He gave me a wicked smile at that. “Like you are?”

  “Oh yeah, you wish. You’re too old for me.”

  He looked offended. “I’m not old.”

  “What are you like, thirty?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Thirty-five.”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “You’re practically in the grave.”

  He laughed. “Okay, what are you like, fifteen? Still listening to Justin Bieber?”

  “I’m twenty-one,” I said proudly.

  I was old for my year because my birthday fell right on the line between my grade and the grade above, and my parents decided they’d rather me be older than younger compared to my classmates. I also didn’t want to admit that yes, sometimes I did listen to Justin Bieber, thanks very much. “Baby” was catchy as hell.

  “You’re practically in diapers.”

  “I’d rather be in diapers at a young age, than diapers at an old one.”

  We both broke out laughing at that, and the tension diffused. He really didn’t look twenty-seven; I would have guessed a few years younger. His face was boyish but handsome, and his clothes, although meant to evoke a serious professor-type, made him look like a kid playing dress-up. It wasn’t a bad thing actually, but it was clear that he felt more comfortable in something else, and I found myself speculating on what exactly that was. He was fit, not bulky but lean and muscular, and I could tell that he kept himself in pretty decent shape.

  “So what do you do outside of work?” I asked after the laughter died down.

  “I’m in a band. I mostly just play music and teach, I guess. I’m pretty boring.”

  “Sounds boring. What’s the band?”

  “Honest Mystery, we play like indie rock stuff.”

  “Local shows?”

  “Yeah, we have a gig coming up soon actually, this weekend.”

  “Where at?”

  “Johnny Brenda’s, if you want to come check us out.”

  It took me a second to realize he had actually invited me to see his band, which was both sweet and a little lame. Every random musician had a band, and I wasn’t sure I was interested in hearing his probably-terrible music. Then again, if he was teaching music theory courses, he had to know at least a little something about writing a song.

  “Yeah, maybe I will,” I said.

  “Cool. We go on at 10 Saturday night. Stop by if you want.”

  “So that’s all you do? Band and teach?”

  He laughed. “Yeah, pretty much. What about you?”

  Aside from working at the library, drinking wine with Lane and Dillon, and studying my ass off, I pretty much didn’t do anything. At least he had music to fall back on for an interesting hobby; I was a studying and work machine, more or less.

  “I read a lot, I guess. I hang out with my roommate, Lane. I don’t know, I guess I’m pretty boring too.”

  “Is that who’s coming to get us, Lane?”

  “No, that was Dillon, our fearless gay leader.”

  He laughed. “What’s that mean?”

  “He’s basically the social director for the three of us. I think without him, me and Lane would sit around watching The Office reruns until we died.”

  “That’s not a bad way to go. I could watch Dwight pepper spray Roy all day long.”

  “That’s like my favorite scene,” I said, genuinely surprised.

  “Seriously? It’s mine too.”

  “I love when Dwight is a normal human for two seconds.”

  He laughed. “Especially when he ruins it a second later.”

  If was weird. We had all these favorite things in common. I had never met someone I clicked with like that so quickly. He stood up and walked down a few steps, sitting with his back against the wall, opposite to me. We were pretty close together, our knees practically touching, but I was still too busy grinning about his Office reference that I didn’t mind.

  “What are your other guilty pleasures?” I asked.

  “Let’s see. Big Bang Theory, which is basically just like a typical sitcom, but I love it. Girls, Game of Thrones, and Looking are all good.”

  “I love Game of Thrones,” I said.

  “You strike me as a Tully.”

  “Oh yeah? You’re a Lannister if you’re anything.”

  “Damn right I’m a lion.”

  “So you’re cool being the villain?”

  “There are no straight up villains in Game of Thrones.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

  “You’d fit in at Westeros. It’s basically a world full of hot people, according to the show at least.”

  “Good one,” I said, and although it was the lamest compliment I had ever been given, I was oddly excited. I hadn’t been in a straight up nerdy conversation in a long time.

  “Weird how much in common we have,” he said quietly.

&
nbsp; I nodded. “It is weird. I’m still surprised I found someone else with the same taste in books.”

  “I like them long and strange, I guess.”

  “Just like you like your women?”

  He grinned. “Exactly.”

  He shifted his weight toward me, and my heart started to pound. It suddenly hit me how trapped we were, with nobody around, just this strange guy who shared the same taste in books and trashy TV as me. A really cute guy, who I was strangely attracted to, despite his cocky comments and his lame jokes. Our conversation trailed off as our eyes locked, and I felt myself spiraling down into his deep brown irises, wondering what there was to know about him, and realizing I wanted to know everything. I felt my breath come deeper as the excitement started to run up my core, and I swore he started to lean toward me. I wanted him to come closer, and felt myself tense for his boy, for his soft lips, for his taste.

  As he got nearer, and my lips parted slightly, the door below us banged open, and we both jumped, startled. I straightened my back and shifted away from him as a security guard, followed by Dillon, poked their heads inside.

  “Saved you, bitch!” Dillon yelled, and the security guard gave him a bemused look. I guessed that wasn’t his first inappropriate comment.

  “Dillon! My savior,” I said, full of sarcasm. I looked at Jim and he grinned back. I cursed Dillon for his awful timing, and wished he had showed up maybe ten minutes later than he did.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Dillon said. I stood and walked down the steps, and Jim followed.

  “Who’s this tall drink of water?” Dillon asked.

  “I’m Jim,” he said, and they shook hands. The four of us walked outside and onto a small side path along an alley. We thanked the guard profusely, and he just shrugged and walked off, probably on his way back to reading from an old paperback. Security gigs at Temple weren’t known for being high stress situations.

  We stood in the cool, dark night under the Bell Tower. I looked at Jim and wanted to say something, maybe ask if he wanted to go to dinner, but Dillon made things weird. I knew there was a moment back there between us, but that moment was suddenly gone, lost in the wash of the real world we had walked out into. Trapped in a staircase with a handsome stranger, I could let myself indulge in fantasies of my lips pressed up against his, but out in the real world I had obligations and studying to get to.

  “Well, it was nice getting trapped with you,” Jim said.

  “Yeah, you too. Let’s never do it again.”

  “Maybe see you around?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Bye guys.” He gave us a wave, and then headed off toward Broad Street. Dillon and I stood and watched him for a second, before heading off in a different direction, toward my apartment.

  “You totally want that cute ass,” Dillon said.

  “Stop, he’s a teacher.”

  “Oh fuck yeah, are you kidding me? How hot is that?” Dillon was beside himself with excitement. Part of me figured that if I weren’t into Jim, Dillon would take a crack at him regardless of whether he was gay or not.

  “He’s just a nice guy, that’s it.”

  “Coming from you, that’s practically admitting you want to carry his babies.”

  “Seriously Dillon, cut it out. It’s not like that.” I punched his arm and he laughed at me.

  “Fine, I get it, first crushes are always the most awkward. You do know what to do with a boy, right?”

  “One more word and I’m banning you from our place.”

  “Okay, okay, keep it together. I’m dropping it.”

  He changed the subject for the remainder of the walk home, and told me about a new boy crush he found on Grindr, but I was barely listening. I kept thinking back to that interrupted moment in the staircase. I thought he was leaning in to kiss me, but I wasn’t sure. More than that though, I realized I wanted him to kiss me, and wouldn’t have stopped him. It was nuts, I barely knew the guy, and had thought he was a total loser not an hour ago, but there I was suddenly ready to suck face with him. I had to pull myself together.

  As I kept walking, and Dillon kept blabbing, I realized I hadn’t smiled that much in a long time.

  Chapter Five: Jim

  We got to the bar early to set up our equipment. Andy and George came with me, and we all hoped Tom would show up, but we never knew anymore with him. We had been discussing whether or not we should replace him for weeks, and if he missed the gig, it was a done deal. Johnny Brenda’s was a really good venue, and the 10p.m. slot was the second best of the night. Granted, it was only their local bands show, but still, there were plenty of Philly bands that would have killed to get on stage that night. We were all excited and hoped that there were some talent scouts out in the crowd, but nobody was talking about it. Instead, it was all fine-tuning our gear, chatting about the list, and stressing about the crowd.

  After the amps were plugged in and the guitars tuned, I sat at the bar with George while Andy went outside to call Tom. I glanced around the crowd, thinking about Emma; I hadn’t seen her since that near-kiss in the stairwell. I had no clue what came over me, why I would invite her, or why I would try something like kissing a student. But it happened, like I was suddenly outside of myself, or at least it almost happened. I’ll never know if she would have kissed me back, but she wasn’t pulling away at least.

  I couldn’t get her out of my mind. It wasn’t exactly inappropriate, but maybe that made it more exciting. Part of me hoped she wouldn’t show up, so I could let the whole thing go, but part of me wanted to catch her eye in the crowd. I wanted to see that fucking sexy frustrated look again.

  “What’s up man?” George said, pulling me back into the night. The bar was hot and loud, partially full, but not yet packed. It was an hour before we went on, and I already felt like I needed to change into a less sweaty shirt.

  “Nothing really,” I said.

  “You seem a little off tonight.”

  “Guess I’m distracted.”

  “Well, get your shit together, it’s a big show.”

  I nodded. George was right: I couldn’t afford to obsess. We had been working hard on our songs for the past few months, and there was some pretty good buzz out there about us. A lot of it came after we changed our name from Slimmer Pickings to Honest Mystery, which I guessed was catchier or something. Still, it was a big show for us, a huge step up from the usual spots.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry about it,” I said. I was the lead guitarist and backup singer; George played bass, Andy played drums, and Tom played rhythm guitar and was the lead vocalist. If he didn’t show up, I wasn’t sure what we’d do.

  Andy slipped his way through the crowd and stood next to George.

  “Tom’s running late,” he said.

  “Fuck, he’s such an asshole,” George said.

  “What’s his excuse this time?” I asked.

  Andy shrugged. “Got a flat tire, apparently.”

  That was possible. Tom had been living with a girlfriend outside of the city, so he had to drive in to make our gigs.

  “He’d better get here soon,” George grumbled, and went back to drinking.

  I scanned the crowd again, half convinced that every cute, young girl I saw was Emma. I sighed and went back to my drink, trying to keep her smile out of my head.

  George counted us down. The lights were bright and hot, and as we began to play I felt high and exhausted all at once. We sounded good; Tom showed up and was mercifully neither drunk nor high for once in his useless life. I had to admit, though, that when he was on stage, Tom was the best front man I had ever seen. He was personable, high energy, had a good voice, and could play his instrument. He put on a show for the people, and he didn’t just strum. If he could get his shit together, he’d go somewhere, with or without us.

  I kept my eyes on the middle distance and focused on my playing. As soon as I hit the first note, everything but the songs drifted from my mind. No Emma, no money problems, nothing, just th
e rush of making music in front of people. The crowd seemed pretty into it, as far as I could tell. We powered through our first song, an up-tempo power rock anthem meant as a tribute to old school glam bands. As we hit the final note, and Tom began to banter with the crowd a bit, I looked over the faces looking back at us, and out toward the bar.

  My heart nearly stopped: sitting between a guy I recognized and a girl I didn’t was Emma. We locked eyes for a second, and I was positive she smiled, until Dillon pulled at her arm. I quickly looked away as George counted us down for the next song, and we began to play.

  I couldn’t believe she showed up. After the stairwell, I had gone back to the library every day until closing to try and run into her again, but I hadn’t seen her anywhere. I wandered around the first and third floors as well, but as far as I could tell she wasn’t working at all. It was possible she only worked Tuesdays, but I guessed something else had happened. I figured that would probably be the last of it, that I had scared her away so completely with my tactless move. I had become the creepy teacher trying to seduce a student, even if I was just an adjunct, and she wasn’t one of my direct students.

  But I was wrong, and she had come. Maybe I was still the creepy teacher, but she clearly didn’t mind it, or at least liked me enough to come out and hear the band. As we hit the bridge of the second song, my heart began to pound in my chest, and my body was flooded with even more adrenaline. My voice was featured in that part, and I suddenly found myself giving a shit about what I sounded like. I was self-conscious knowing she was out there in the crowd listening, and I wanted to impress her.

  The next few songs flew by. As far as I could tell, it went smoothly. I didn’t notice any mistakes from George or Andy, and Tom was his usual proficient self. My own playing was pretty good, although I couldn’t keep myself from dwelling on Emma in the crowd. I kept glancing out at her and looking away, trying to catch her in my peripheral vision, trying to gauge whether she was having fun or not. The crowd was reacting pretty well; people were up and dancing, which was usually a good sign. As we finished, Tom made his usual end-of-the-set jokes, which always got a laugh, and we were out. The crowd clapped and cheered, louder than I expected, and my body was drenched in sweat. My heart hammered as we moved off and into the small backstage area.