Why moths? Because they aren’t as graceful as butterflies.
I sat down in one of the leather recliners, tucking my feet up under me. I studied him while he was on the phone and unaware of my attention. His dark hair was messy, but it worked perfectly with his jeans and faded shirt. He wore a black jacket, which looked like leather. I resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.
Everything about him I wanted to touch: his hair, I wanted to run my hands through; the stubble on his jaw, I wanted to feel on my fingertips, his lips, I wanted to feel pressed against mine, his tongue invading my mouth. Oh God, he was making me wet . . .
“Ten minutes,” he said, jolting me out of my daydream. Ten minutes, what? Oh, the pizza…
“Okay. Well, we can start the movie now, anyway.”
He settled down in the armchair next to me. God, I can smell his aftershave. That citrus, woody tone mixed with the sweet scent of his sweat. Was it wrong that I just wanted to lean over and sniff him? I giggled, the mental image too funny to resist. He glanced at me, brow creased, and shook his head.
He probably thinks I’m a freak.
I had this strange habit of spontaneously laughing when I was nervous, and nothing made me more nervous than having him as close to me as he was right then. I was sure I was coming across as an immature teenager.
What was I doing, asking him to stay and watch a movie with me? And why had he agreed? Isn’t Rule One of teaching not to associate with your students outside of class? The fact that he was in my living room, his hand inches from mine, made me nervous. Moments ago this had all been a silly crush in my head, but the possibility of this actually going somewhere scared the hell out of me.
In my fantasies, I’d imagined myself taking the lead and seducing him. He’d be unable to resist my charms.
In reality? Fuck, no. There was no way I could ever make a move.
No fucking way. I felt nervous changing positions in my seat, for God’s sake. I’d never have the guts to try something . . . would I?
The doorbell rang and I jumped. Dalton chuckled as I pressed Pause.
“You can’t even handle the doorbell. How the hell are you going to handle the scary parts?” he teased, standing up.
I glowered at him as he left the room. A few minutes later he came back in, pizza box in hand, with two cans of soda. I pushed aside the books scattered on the coffee table as he set down the box.
“Here,” he said, tossing me one of the cans.
I caught it. “Thanks,” I said, sitting it on the table next to my half-full glass of Coke.
He opened the lid and presented the box to me. I picked the slice with the most pepperoni.
“I was going to go that one,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me playfully.
“Too bad. You shouldn’t have offered it to me first, then.” I shrugged, shoving it in my mouth.
“Really? I guess that’s what I get for trying to be a gentleman,” he said, his lips breaking into a grin.
I rolled my eyes at him and took another big bite, trying to ignore that beautiful dimple on his cheek that I just wanted to reach out and touch. “Get over it,” I joked, covering my mouth with my hand.
He laughed and reached for a slice. I unpaused the movie and he got right back into it, as though there’d been no interruption.
I paid more attention to him than I did the screen. I figured I could watch the movie again later. Watching him later would be a little more difficult—and creepy.
His eyes were glued to the screen as he shoved pizza into his mouth. I focused again on the fuzzy regrowth around his jaw line. Did he do that purposely, or could he just not be bothered to shave? I think that would be the thing that would annoy me most about being a man—having to shave every freaking day. It was an effort for me to wax once a month.
Downstairs, I had a basic bikini line wax and kept myself nicely trimmed. For the love of God, I couldn’t understand why girls went completely bare. There was no way in hell I’d ever be doing that. I was a wuss when it came to pain.
I cringed. Was I seriously sitting here next to my teacher, thinking about Brazilians and pubic hair? What the hell is wrong with me? God, now I was thinking about what he’d like. I bet all the chicks he had been with were smooth and bare down there . . .
Snap out of it, Wrenn!
I blushed furiously, praying to God he wouldn’t look over at me. He didn’t.
***
“Well, I have to admit that was pretty damn good.”
Dalton grinned as he stretched his legs out. “I can’t believe you hadn’t seen that before,” he said, shaking his head.
“I imagine there are quite a few classics I’ve yet to see that I should have,” I replied, running my hand through my hair. I sat forward and closed the empty pizza box. “Thanks for staying. This was fun.”
“It was,” he agreed, his gaze lingering on me, a tiny smile threatening to invade his mouth. “There aren’t too many people here that I’ve been able to be myself around,” he admitted. He sat forward, his arms resting casually on his legs. “I knew moving away from my friends and family would be hard, but it’s harder than I thought.”
“I can imagine,” I said softly. My mind flashed back to all my old friends. I hadn’t even heard from them, not since the accident.
“Of course,” he said. “What am I saying? You know exactly how I feel. I suppose you rack up a huge phone bill, too, right? Thank God for Skype is all I can say.”
“I don’t exactly have many people to call,” I replied carefully. Wow this was going downhill fast.
His face fell, and I knew he’d realized he had put his foot in it. I hadn’t planned on explaining my situation to him so quickly, but now I felt like I had to.
“I moved here because . . . because my family was killed in an accident last year. Layna is my only living relative. She had to take me.” I swallowed hard, praying he wouldn’t press me for more details.
“Shit, Wrenn. I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I said that.” He buried his head in his hands.
“You didn’t know,” I said. “Most of the staff know, but only because they were here when I came here, and Layna thought it was best they knew, considering my fragile state. The students don’t know. And I’m glad. They hate me enough as it is.”
“Maybe them knowing would give them a better insight to who you are and what you’ve been though? I’m sure they don’t hate you,” he replied, his voice soft.
I laughed. “Trust me, they do. I’m the niece of the headmistress and I don’t come from a family of big money. Add to that all the ‘special’ attention I used to get from teachers who were just trying to look out for me, and what’s to not like?” I joked. I shrugged. “Not that I care. With the exception of Kass, I’d prefer not to know any of my peers. I focus on my schoolwork and grades. That’s it. Two more months and I’m free. Less than two months. Six weeks. Thank God for extra credit and early graduation.”
He was silent for a moment. “Anyone who chooses not to get to know you is missing out. Not you. You’re unlike anyone I’ve met.” He looked up and met my gaze; those incredible blue eyes were staring right into my soul. It gave me goose bumps. This guy made me feel like I wanted to live. Really live, not just go through the motions of day to day life.
I smiled, not sure how to respond to his comment. “You’re just trying to be nice, and I appreciate that, but I know how little this place matters out there in the real world. What people here think of me, I try not to let it get me down. I just think of the future. A few more months and I’ll be in college. Hell, if it weren’t for the accident, I’d have been in college this year.”
“You would?” he murmured, his brow furrowing at the thought.
“Yes. I’m repeating my senior year because of the accident. That’s how I have enough credits to graduate midyear.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize,” he mumbled, looking up at me and shaking off whatever train of thought had been distracting him. “Anyway,
I’d better go. I can only imagine the gossip that would circulate if I was seen here when Layna wasn’t home.” He rolled his eyes and stood up, his phone shooting out of his hands and landing on the floor. We both bent down to retrieve it, almost banging heads in the process. For a second, we looked at each other. I couldn’t read his expression.
He straightened up abruptly, giving me a tight smile. “I’ll see you next week.”
Chapter Ten
Dalton
If not for her accident, she would be a college student this year.
College. Not high school, but college.
Why did hearing her say that make me want to squirm? The same reason my heart dropped when she thought I was just being nice for telling her she was special. This girl was beginning to have an effect on me.
If Wrenn had been a freshman in college when I was there, would I have . . . ?
It doesn't matter. God, why am I even thinking that? She's not in college, and I'm not back there, either. Besides, even if things were different, god knows I don’t do relationships.
I shouldn't have stayed. My intentions at first were completely innocent, and she'd given me no indication that she wanted anyone but someone to kill time with.
But the more I sat there, trying to watch that damn movie, the more my thoughts drifted to something more...inappropriate. Every shift she made on that damn seat next to me, every toss of her hair—sending another wave of her perfume my way—sent my mind into a spin. So many times I thought—fuck, I'd even hoped—that she was going to make a move. And as much as I wanted to invite her over to join me on the sofa, I kept thinking of how wrong it would be and I just couldn’t do it.
For the entire two hours and sixteen minutes of Rosemary's Baby, I had an internal battle, back and forth, of asking her to join me on the sofa, and then ripping myself apart in the debate of how I'd tell her we couldn't cross that line. My head was one big mess.
Being alone in her house while she was my student was a big fuck-up on my part, and I couldn’t let that happen again. What if someone had seen me? I’d be out of a job so fast I wouldn’t know what hit me, and I could kiss my entire career goodbye.
Besides, what the hell did I think was going to happen? How easy it had been to forget the real reason my friends had called me “Solitaire” in college: because I never spent more than one night with the same girl. I couldn’t do relationships. I’d never had one, and I probably wouldn’t—not anytime soon.
But she was different. And she had been through so much. I couldn’t deny there was a connection, not to myself. The sorrow I’d felt for her when she told me about losing her family—I’d so badly wanted to take all the pain away. That urge to protect her was going to get me into trouble. I had to be careful.
If I was being honest with myself, my career was the least of my worries when it came to Wrenn.
***
The week passed by uneventfully. I focused on my work and tried to minimize the number of creepy stares I sent Wrenn’s way during classes. Thank God most of them were when she had her head down, focusing on her work, or she’d have me up on a restraining order.
Paige and her snotty attitude toward Wrenn was beginning to irritate the hell out of me. Several times I had to bite back comments that would have been personal and downright nasty—not the way a teacher wants to react toward a student, but the way a man might protect his woman.
Wrenn, of course, handled Paige’s nastiness the same way she always did: by ignoring it and focusing on the things that were important to her. God, I admired her strength so much.
Memories of my own childhood were brought back, flashing through my head. Being picked on because of Dad’s disease had been frightening for a young kid. But even worse was the shame I felt for myself for asking him to drop me off around the corner from school, or to not attend my school events, all for fear of being picked on.
I will never erase the image of him on the day I told him I didn’t want him to come to my middle school graduation. The pain in his eyes would be something that would haunt me forever. All because a couple of assholes made fun of me because of his disability.
I’d broken his heart that day and I’d never forget how that felt.
***
The days seemed to be flying past, and by Friday afternoon I was at home, getting ready to head back over to the teacher’s lounge for a syllabus meeting. I decided to call Mom. I hadn’t spoken to her more than a week, and I knew she liked hearing from me regularly. Picking up the phone, I dialed her number.
“Dalton,” she said, sounding happy.
“Hey, Mom. How are you?” I asked, balancing the phone in the nook of my shoulder as I buttoned up my shirt.
“I’m good, honey. Just leaving work now. How’s the job going? Are you enjoying it? I hope everyone is being nice to you.”
“Work’s fine, Mom, and yes, everyone is great,” I chuckled. All she needed to know was I was fine and happy. She didn’t need the full, drawn-out story.
“Good. I told Layna to keep an eye on you, you know.”
“I’m aware of that, Mom,” I replied, amused.
“I worry about you. That will never stop, you know that. Especially when we don’t know—”
“Mom, I’m fine. Stop worrying about me,” I said, cutting her off. “I have to go, but I’ll call you soon, okay? I love you.”
“Love you too, honey.”
I hung up.
Sighing, I picked up the photo of Mom and Dad I had sitting on the desk. It was taken before he’d started showing symptoms. At two, I was supposed to have been in the photo, but wouldn’t sit still. Every image came out the same: me running away, Mom with her hands on her head, and Dad screaming after me. This was one of my favorite pictures because it reminded me how important family was.
Chapter Eleven
Wrenn
I was beginning to notice things that I knew were not just in my head: the way he kept eye contact with me for half a second longer than he did everyone else, the fact that he would find any excuse to come over to the house. We could sit and talk for hours about nothing, and everything. He was still professional, he was still my teacher, but out of class he had become my friend.
Tonight, I was going to test this. He either felt something or he didn’t, and if he didn’t, then I’d be spending the rest of the semester embarrassed as hell every time I had to walk into that classroom.
“Anyone home?” I called out, dropping my books on the hall table.
Silence greeted me. My heart thumping, I made my way into Layna’s office. I walked over to her desk and sat down, with no idea where to start. The slightest noise made me jump, because I was so sure I was going to get caught. I’d make the worst burglar.
I flicked though some papers and found nothing. The filing cabinet; nothing. The desk drawers; nothing. I was losing hope of ever finding what I needed when I saw it.
Her phone. She was forever leaving it at home. This was perfect. Her phone was the best chance of finding what I was looking for.
Picking it up, I clicked my way to Contacts and scrolled down to Reid.
And there it was. My hands shook as I copied the number into my phone. A voice in the back of my mind was screaming at me. What the hell are you doing? I clicked out of Contacts and navigated my way back to the main screen, setting the phone down exactly where I’d found it, right down to the angle it had been at.
Even once upstairs in the safety of my room, my heart was still racing. I sat down cross-legged on my bed, staring at the number. His number. Was I really going to do this? What if he brushed me off? I took a breath and dialed before I could change my mind.
“Hello?”
Oh my God. His voice sent chills through my body. I nearly ended the call. My voice wouldn’t work, and I was beginning to sweat.
“Hello?” he repeated.
“Uh, hi,” I managed. Fuck, I’m an idiot.
“Who is this?” he asked, his voice curious.
; I slapped my hand over my face. Oh God, kill me now. This was getting worse by the minute.
“It’s Wrenn.”
“Oh.” He sounded surprised. And guarded. “Can you hold for a moment?”
“Uh, sure,” I mumbled. This was going really bad. I heard the muffled sound of him talking to someone. A few seconds passed, and then the sound of a door shutting.
“Sorry. I was . . . in a meeting. Are you okay?” he sounded concerned.
I felt so embarrassed. In what stupid fantasy had this seemed like a good idea? He was my teacher, he was five years older than me, and more than that, he was hot, sexy, and capable of getting any girl he wanted. Why would he be interested in me?
“Wrenn?”
“Um, I’m sorry. This was stupid . . . ”
“What is it?” he pressed. Great. Now he sounded amused, like he thought this was funny.
Kill me now. I sighed. I already looked like a fool. How much worse could this get?
“Psycho is playing over in Hallbrook tonight, and I wondered if you wanted to go,” I practically shouted the words down the phone. I slapped my hand over my mouth, so completely embarrassed.
“With you?” he asked, astonished.
“No, with the gardener,” I retorted.
He chuckled, probably at the thought of grumpy old Mr. Landen enjoying anything in life, let alone a movie.
“Look, I just thought it might be something you’d like to do, you know, as friends, but it’s probably a really bad—”
“Okay,” he said, cutting me off.
Huh? Did I just hear correctly?
“Okay?” I repeated, stunned. Surely I must’ve heard him wrong.
“Yes. It’s probably best you meet me there, though,” he added awkwardly.
“Yeah, sure. So it starts at seven. I will meet you there ten minutes before?”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.”
Yep. I was grinning like an idiot.
Hanging up the phone, I fell back on the bed.
Holy shit.
A wave of nausea ran over me. What the hell was I going to wear? I jumped up and ran down to the bathroom, turning on the taps as I stripped out of my uniform. After soaping myself up, I stood under the stream of water, trying to calm my nerves.
Always You Page 5