Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom

by Magda Alexander

  “Okay. Tired. Happy it’s the first of the month and I get to spend time with you.”

  “Virtually.”

  “Are you aware Thanksgiving is less than four months away?”

  “Three more first of the months.”

  “Any chance you’re going to make it home during the next week? I’ve only got a week until I’m a working woman.”

  “Living your dream.”

  “Hopefully.”

  “You’ll love it. You’ll be good at it. Once you start, it’ll make the time go faster. I’m hoping school does that for me. Feels like I’m sort of wishing my life away at the moment.”

  “Lane, you’ve got to enjoy your senior year. Once you’re done, you’re done.”

  “Sounds like you’re missing your senior year.”

  “Not really. Wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t graduate early and go to Beach Week. Are you gonna call me?”

  “Are you gonna cry?”

  “Probably. But only when I first hear your voice.”

  “Send me a picture.”

  “Call me.”

  “As soon as I get the picture I want, I’ll call you.”

  “What picture do you want?”

  “You. In that sky blue lacy set of undies.”

  Chapter Eight

  First Day of School

  Lane entered his last class of the day, happy to find his buddy Lam already there, saving a seat right next to him. As first days went, this one had been a doozie. Football practice before classes had his body shutting down and craving a nap during his first two. Then he did his weight training after lunch. He was now down to one more class and then he’d be back out on the field. Hell, he’d have thought hauling bricks and digging ditches all summer would have kept him in better shape. Now that classes were starting, football practice was taking its toll. He needed to get more sleep. Like, right after practice.

  He was too tired to do any talking, so he just gave Lam a fist bump and slouched into his chair as the classroom around him filled up. He flipped his notebook open and was making some notes about a trick play he needed clarification on-details he wanted to go over with his coach-when the teacher walked in and shut the door. He glanced up as she was making her way to the center of the room.

  “Aw, fuck,” he whispered, his whole body going into fight-or-flight mode. Flight. He definitely needed to fly the hell out of here. He closed his notebook and ducked his head.

  “What?” Lam asked.

  Lane started to get up quietly. “I gotta get out of here,” he said under his breath. “Back me up, man.” Lane bent his head, held his notebook up to cover his face and quietly made for the back door. Luckily, things were still getting settled, and he managed to escape from the room unnoticed.

  “Christ,” he said as he headed in the direction of the front office. He had maybe a three-minute head start before everything blew up in his face.

  Vivi, now known better as Miss DuVal, was enjoying her first day of school as a full-fledged teacher. On Wednesdays, her schedule held only four classes, so she was easing her way into the whirlwind of high school nicely. Get this day under her belt and she’d be ready for a heavier class schedule tomorrow.

  She’d been nervous but totally prepared for her morning calculus class. The kids seemed resigned to be there. No outbursts, no spitballs. Her nerves had settled considerably by class number two, algebra, which she could teach blindfolded and with one arm tied behind her back. No nerves at all for AP Calculus, as those students were her wheelhouse, her people. She was excited about the challenge of her last class of the day, Statistics, because she’d never taught it before. Never tutored it-nothing. The principal needed her to handle it, so handle it she would. It was a condition of the offer of employment which had come in at the last minute while she was packing for Atlanta.

  She’d been so busy putting on the brakes in Atlanta, and settling back into her parents’ house, that the driving desire she initially had to break the rules and text Lane to tell him she was now gainfully employed by his alma mater died down. She’d wait. It would give her something to surprise him with on September first.

  Mr. Liskey talked her ear off in the teacher’s lounge, and she’d missed the opportunity to be in the classroom as the first students entered. She liked to greet them, somewhat individually, if she could. As the last class of the day, she knew their blood sugar was probably running low and thoughts of getting the hell out of school were running high. That was okay, because it was her plan to spend the first class dazzling them with the wonderful world of statistics and how it related to betting in Vegas. She needed something to inspire their interest.

  She walked in as the students were getting settled. There was only a low hum of conversation. The room was full, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She grabbed the class roster, determined to remember names and faces by the end of a full week. When she heard a scrape of a chair she looked up to see the tail end of a student exiting the room.

  “Wrong class?” she asked the boy next to the now-vacant desk.

  “I think so,” he said. “Probably. He didn’t really say.”

  “All right. Well, everyone, I’m Miss DuVal.” She pointed to her name on the board. “In this class, you will become enamored with statistics,” she said, hearing a bunch of grunts in reply. “How many seniors do we have in here?”

  Seventy-five percent of the students raised their hand.

  “Juniors?”

  Five.

  “Any sophomores?” she asked hopefully. None. “And freshmen,” she said, expecting no hands and getting exactly what she expected.

  “I’ve been asked to take roll every day. Give me a week to learn your names and faces and then we won’t have to go through this so formally. Please respond by raising your hand and letting me know if you can see the board and hear me from your present seat.

  “Caralee Barrett?”

  “Here. I’m fine in this seat.”

  “Thanks. Benjamin Church?”

  “Here. I’m good.”

  “Perfect. Tom Gallagher?”

  “Here. I’d be more comfortable in the back on a sofa.”

  “But I wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing your face quite so well. We’ll keep you right here. Ah, next is Mark Handelman.”

  “Here. Fine.”

  “Great. Sean Jacobs.”

  “Here. I can hear and see fine.”

  “Terrific. Ah, Lane…” Vivi stammered. What? She looked up, confused. “Lane Kettering?”

  She scanned the classroom. No response.

  Her eyes drifted toward the lone chair, fourth row center. She looked back at the name, a chill running down her spine. A young cousin?

  “He left,” came a male voice. Vivi glanced up to see that the huge, handsome, black kid sitting next to the empty chair had spoken.

  “Pardon?”

  “He left.”

  “And you are?” she asked, glancing down at her roster.

  “Lambert Somers.”

  “Lambert,” she repeated, something terrifying starting to pound in the depths of her soul.

  “I go by Lam,” the kid said.

  “Lam,” she repeated quietly. Lam, Lam, oooh! Her eyes locked with Lam’s right before she held up a finger toward the class. Right before she marched herself out of the classroom and into the hall.

  Down the long, quiet corridor was a lone figure, walking slowly with his head down. She watched him reach the end. As he turned the corner, he glanced back in her direction. Their eyes met right before he disappeared.

  Chapter Nine

  Principal Levendusky was waiting for Vivi when class let out. Somehow she’d managed to hold her shit together and teach while hoping against hope that there was some explanation other than the fact that Lane Kettering, her Lane Kettering, was now not just her love interest, but her student as well. Because the ramifications of that kept dancing through her head as she tried to play teacher.

  I’m a teac
her, dating a high school student. This is fodder for the tabloids. Ohmygod,ohmygod…

  Vivi managed to quell her growing panic and focus on the job of teaching, but the moment she saw Principal Levendusky it all came flooding back. She blinked a few times while she tried to restart her heart when he stepped into the room.

  “Are you here to fire me?”

  Mr. L., as he was affectionately called, tilted his head and brought his brows together. “No. No, we give our new teachers more than one day to make good around here,” he joked. “But it seems we have a situation I’m hoping you can help resolve.” He motioned for her to join him as they walked into the hall and toward his office. “A student came in demanding to be removed from your Statistics class. His college counselor, Mrs. Hodge, insists he needs to maintain a strong course schedule for his college applications. He’s a smart kid. He’s applying to top schools. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be taking Statistics. Mrs. Hodge and the front office have looked for another equally challenging class to put him in last period, but there’s really nothing satisfactory. He needs to be in your class, Vivi. I’m hoping you can talk to the boy and see what can be worked out.”

  “Mr. Levendusky,” she started but he held up his hand.

  “You need to talk to the boy,” he said quietly. When she looked up at him, she saw a little smile, a twinkle in his eye.

  “What did he tell you?” she asked.

  “Not a damn thing, and I pressed-hard. Lane is generally not a hothead, so him being so insistent, well…I’ve been around young people a long time, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t about Statistics. I’d like to give you a chance to talk with him first, and then I’ll join the two of you. Together we’ll figure out how best to resolve whatever is going on here.”

  Vivi sighed. She was going to lose her job. Her first-ever teaching job and she only got to experience it for one day. Lane! What the hell?

  Once they were within the front offices, Principal Levendusky allowed her to proceed down the hall to his office alone. She did so briskly, wanting to get to the bottom of this. Wanting to find out for herself just what the hell was going on.

  She opened the door, and there he was. His gorgeous shaggy head bent low as he sat in a chair at the side of the room. His chin snapped up when she entered, his green eyes dangerous and catching her off guard. Her heart fluttered as he stood and came at her, angry.

  “You’re supposed to be in Atlanta,” he accused in a passionate whisper, closing the door behind her.

  “And you’re supposed to be a senior at UNC,” she said in similar fashion. “Give me your license,” she demanded.

  He pulled his wallet from his back pocket while he stood way too close to her, his eyes never letting go of her gaze. He removed his license and held it directly in her line of vision. “My birthday. May sixteenth.” He tapped the card. “Two years apart, just like I said.”

  “You’re nineteen!”

  He gave her a quick, short nod before he put his license away.

  “I thought you were twenty-three. I thought you were at Carolina, finishing up college this year, not high school,” she cried.

  “So what?”

  “So what?” she repeated. “So what?” she shouted, incredulous. “So now I’m technically dating one of my students and won’t TMZ just have a heyday making me out to be some horrible sex offender.”

  “S.B., I hate to break it to you, but TMZ doesn’t give a shit about you. You are not a celebrity.”

  “Not now. But when the local news gets wind of this, you and I will both be celebrities and not in a good way. Oh, God,” she said, succumbing to panic. “Oh, God,” she said, reaching out, unable to breathe, tears springing to her eyes.

  “Vivi,” Lane said, catching her up in his arms and helping her to sit in a chair. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I’ve got this handled. I promise.”

  He was crouched down beside her when Vivi remembered his smell, his warm, succulent, all-male smell, and it swamped her. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and weep into his shoulder.

  “It is a big deal,” she cried, as she gave in and launched herself into his arms, sobbing against him. “It changes everything.”

  “It changes nothing,” he said, bringing her with him as he stood, running a soothing hand down her back. “I’ve pulled out of your Statistics class. You’re not my teacher. You never were. You and I were both students when we met. I’m not letting anybody twist what we have into something salacious.”

  “We have to tell the principal,” she sobbed.

  “We’re not telling Levendusky a damn thing.”

  “We’ve…we’ve got to tell your parents.” She sniffled and pulled away.

  “I’m looking forward to introducing you as my girlfriend.”

  “Don’t you understand?” she said, dabbing at her eyes, trying desperately to pull herself together. “I can’t be your girlfriend. Not while we’re both at this school.”

  “Too damn bad. We’re already involved.”

  “No one is going to stand for a student dating a teacher.”

  “Then quit.”

  “Quit? I can’t…quit.” She pushed out of his arms and walked over to grab a tissue off Mr. L.‘s desk. “When this job came up at the last minute, I burned every bridge in Atlanta. Because this job is perfect. Teaching high school math at my age, with no experience, in North Carolina. This is like the Holy Grail. I can’t quit.”

  “Well, I’d offer to transfer somewhere, but then I wouldn’t be able to play football, and I need football, S.B. I’ve got college coaches offering me places on their teams. They want to see me playing this year and getting better. I’m not gonna get the playing time I need if I transfer over to Henderson High. Their season’s already started. Our season has started.”

  Vivi felt like she’d been hit by a big wave and was caught under the surf, tumbling around, banging into the sand, not knowing which way was up. She headed for the nearest chair and sat. “Why didn’t you tell me all of this?”

  “What? Tell you that I was in high school, when you were ready to graduate college? Christ, S.B., you wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I wasn’t willing to take that chance. Not if you didn’t ask me any direct questions. And yeah, when things started getting serious I probably should have spelled it out a little clearer. But hey, we only had three days together, so I figured why ruin a good thing. You were going off to Europe, then Atlanta. By Thanksgiving I will have committed to a college and figured I’d tell you then. Figured it’d be an easier pill for you to swallow if I had one foot out of high school.”

  “You’re nineteen,” she cried.

  “Don’t you dare tell me my age has anything to do with how you feel about me.”

  She looked Lane up and down, finding it hard to believe this was happening. He didn’t look nineteen. At all. He was so big and burly, and hairy and…and tempting. She sighed. “How is it possible you’re still in high school?”

  He squatted down in front of her and started parting his hair on the top of his head, leaning in to show her something. “See that scar?”

  “Oh my God.” Vivi drew back.

  Lane brushed his hands through his hair, combing it all back into place. “I’d just started first grade when I was hit by a car.”

  “You were hit by a car?” Vivi asked, horrified.

  “Yeah.” He smiled, almost as if he was proud or amused. “I don’t remember it, so you know, don’t worry. Apparently I was chasing a ball and ran out into the street right in front of some poor mom who hit me with her minivan.”

  “Oh, Lane,” Vivi breathed.

  “Yeah. It was bad. Really bad. Head trauma. Busted hips, legs, ribs, one arm. My spine held up pretty well except in the neck area, so I was in traction for months. I was in a coma for a week or so with the whole brain swelling thing. Like I said, I don’t remember any of that. What I do remem
ber though-vividly-was a really tough year of physical therapy. Learning to walk again. Learning to speak. Pretty much starting from scratch. I missed a year of school and started first grade all over again while still doing physical therapy. Then, because I wasn’t reading well enough by the end of second grade, they decided to have me repeat that as well. My father had a real problem with me falling behind by two years. In order to placate my father, I received a special dispensation making me eligible to participate in competitive sports until I graduated. Otherwise, I would have missed the age deadline for playing football this season by three and a half months. So, thank you, Dad.”

  “No wonder you seem so much older. Going through all that trauma and therapy.”

  “And I’ll have you know I am now an exemplary reader. I’m just old. For high school. Which, frankly, has given me a total leg up in the athletics department.”

  “Yes, but it complicates things for us terribly.”

  “So what? Things were already complicated with you living in Atlanta and us only texting once a month. We’ve just uncomplicated it.”

  “They’re not letting you out of my class.”

  “It’s already done.”

  “You need a strong course load.”

  “College coaches don’t care about that.”

  “But college admissions officers do.”

  “Viv.”

  There was a knock on the door and then Principal Levendusky poked his head through. “How are we coming in here? Working things out to everyone’s satisfaction?”

  Lane snorted. Vivi stood up, smoothed her skirt, wiped under her eyes with her tissue and motioned the principal inside.

  “Principal Levendusky, there’s something we need to tell you.”

  “Vivi, please don’t,” she heard Lane say. “We can handle this ourselves.”

  “Mr. Kettering and I have a previous relationship,” she went on, ignoring Lane.

  “Call me Mr. Kettering one more time and I will describe, in complete detail, our previous relationship,” Lane growled.

  Vivi crossed her arms over her chest and pointedly gave Lane her best bossy-teacher stand-down look. Then she turned back to Mr. Levendusky.