“Okay. I…didn’t…realize this was going to be so…painful for you.”
“Can anybody hear me?”
Vivi leaned closer to the screen and started to whisper. “No. My parents are watching TV, I think. I locked my bedroom door just in case, so no. I don’t think so.”
Lane licked his lips and slid a hand over his face, trying to figure out a way to not sound like such a horny teenager. Fuck it. “S.B., if we had never met, you would have walked into that classroom today and I would have been attracted to you. Maybe I would have thought you were older than twenty-one because you’re a damn teacher. Whatever. But I would have taken one look at you, even all buttoned up in teacher clothes, and I would have started daydreaming. Fantasizing. Now, the reality is much better than that. You’re my girl, and I’m crazy about you. And, you gotta know that every night since we’ve been apart, I…I lie in bed and replay our first night together, or our second night together, or our very, very, very long third-night-and-into-day-number-four together. Until I feel…well, satisfied. Understand?”
She was blushing. Bright pink. Hand over her mouth. Yeah, she got the picture.
“So, you standing up in front of the classroom with those kinds of memories in my head…concerns me. On top of the fact that I hate the idea of being in a student/teacher relationship with you when we already have what we have. It’s weird, it’s unnatural, and it makes me feel like I’m less.”
“Less what?”
“Less. Just…less. Less in control. Less an equal partner in this relationship. Just less in your eyes.” God, he was sounding like such a fucking baby. And damn if all of a sudden he didn’t want to start crying like one too. The emotion welled up in him so fast he was afraid he wasn’t going to be able to hide it. “Viv, I’ve…I’m gonna go.”
“No,” she shouted. “Lane, please. I’m sorry. I hear you. I get it. I do. Now that you spelled it out it makes perfect sense. So, yeah. I’m not gonna be your teacher, okay?” she said obviously trying to soothe him. “Our relationship is our relationship. In my mind, you’re sitting in my Statistics class because you’re there to support me, a first-time teacher. I’m not looking at you as a student. I’m not teaching to you. I’m not calling on you. Wear sunglasses. Write a damn novel while you’re sitting in my class, for all I care. I’ll just like seeing you there. Because I’m crazy about you too. And you’re my boyfriend, even if I can’t brag about it for a while. You can give me some feedback on how I’m doing. Let me know what the kids in the class are thinking. Help me fine-tune my skills. I need that. It’ll be good for me to have you there. But, yeah, I get it. I don’t want anything to change between us either. Okay? I’m crazy for the brawny guy on the beach who didn’t take any of my shit and then picked me up and carried me into the water, saving my day, my week, my…happiness. I don’t want to date a student. I don’t. I want you. Although…I am sort of excited about dating a running back.”
Lane let out a chuckle, falling in love even as he saw the writing on the wall. “Vivi,” he whispered sadly.
“Lane, don’t. Please, don’t. Just, let’s see how it goes.”
“You’re going to be grading my papers!”
“Maybe you can grade your own damn papers while we are secretly watching Sunday Night Football together.”
“All right,” he relented. “Okay. This may work out yet. But Sleeping Beauty needs to understand what a hot-button issue this is for me.”
“Yeah. I think I got that when you told my boss you seduced me into bed and fucked me six ways till Sunday.”
“Shit. Sorry about that.”
“Might want to play it a little cooler next time.”
“Don’t play teacher with me,” he warned.
“Got it.”
“Bossy pants, I’m not sure you do, but I am willing to give it a try. Now, go…put on some clothes. I’ll see you tomorrow. In that Statistics class I’m sitting in on to give you a first-year teacher critique.”
Right. That oughta go over real well.
Chapter Twelve
It was hard to ignore the Warriors’ star running back. One, he sat in the dead center of her classroom, towering over everyone except Lam, who sat right next to him. Two, he looked terribly conspicuous wearing his sunglasses. Terribly conspicuous and totally hot in a bad-boy, I’m-king-of-all-I-survey sort of way. Three, he was her Lane, and her body hadn’t forgotten how his hands felt when they had stroked over every square, trembling inch of her. Her woozy factor shot into the danger zone the moment he sat down at his desk.
Ooookay, so now she had a very clear understanding of what Lane had been talking about.
Her heart rate sped up, her stomach was practicing specialty knot-tying, and her body had decided to go soft in all the most notorious places. She touched her brow and found she was sweating. Sweating! She reached for the water bottle on her desk and downed a swig. Unable to face him or the other students at the moment, she turned her back to the class and went to the board in a haze. This was not how she had planned to start things off today.
Then the thought seized her: Was Lane now staring at her ass? Was she going to have to teach this class with Lane staring at her rear end every day? After he’d seen her naked rear end and naked everything else? Was he sitting there, thinking about what she was thinking about up here? She felt herself go hot all over. Started feeling a little dizzy. Dear Lord, this was going to be so much harder than she thought. She literally couldn’t think outside of the fact that she and Lane had been naked together and he was sitting in the middle of her classroom surrounded by his peers.
“I’m sorry,” she said, turning and facing the class with what she was sure looked like wild eyes. “I’m just going to…ah…” She placed her hands on her desk and let her head hang. Get a grip and do it fast. “Yeah, if y’all would talk quietly among yourselves for a moment, I’ll be right back.”
As she headed for the door, she heard a hum start up in the room. Putting one leg into her bossy-teacher pants, she shouted, “Quietly,” just to prove to herself she could.
Ohhhhh…Myyyyy…God, Vivi thought as she shut the door and turned, leaning into the first locker she saw. The metal felt cool against her forehead, soothing the burn of her inflamed skin. She forced herself to take deep breaths. In. Out. She could do this, she told herself. She needed to be professional. She and Lane had already discussed this. He was here to observe. She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t up for the job. She…she-the slow breaths were helping her calm down-she could do this. For Lane. Show him she could teach, anywhere, anything, anytime. Even if he had dragged his hot football body into her classroom looking like he just rolled out of bed after their long, long night together.
That is so not helping.
She heard the rear door to her classroom open and close. Felt him move up beside her and fiddle with a lock a few feet down.
“You having another panic attack, S.B.?” he said quietly, not looking in her direction.
She nodded her head, still leaning against the locker. Feeling like she was going to cry.
She was surprised when the locker Lane had been toying with opened. “You’ve got this,” he said into it. “They’re just a bunch of high school kids in that room,” he said. “Not one of them knows a damn thing about you. And they don’t care anyway. They’re just looking forward to getting out of school today and the pep rally tomorrow night. Something like that. You need to get their minds on statistics. That’s your job. And I know you’re good at your job because I’ve heard talk from your AP Calc class. They like you. You teach to their level. You make it easy. That means,” he snickered, “you are damn good at this teaching gig. So, you can do this.”
She turned her head to look at him. “I can’t do it with you in the classroom,” she whispered.
He stared into his locker. “I’m not going to look at you. I’m not going to think about you. I’m going to be drawing plays in my notebook to talk to the coach about at practice. Ignor
e me. Do your job.”
He closed the locker and headed back in the door he came out of.
Okay, so who was the teacher now? Vivi wiped at her eyes, sucked in a couple breaths, and pinched her cheeks. She’d go in and take roll. She’d get back to her lesson plan. Ask a few of the kids why they wanted to learn about statistics. How they hoped to utilize it in their lives. Then she’d get to the lesson. She could do this. She loved doing this. This was who she was.
And after a few stutters and a couple of surreal moments, it went okay. Maybe even started heading toward well.
She was able to ignore Lane for the most part, but she did notice him smirk whenever the rest of the class would laugh and that somehow made her feel better. He wasn’t completely tuning her out. She didn’t really want him to have to do that.
When the bell rang and class was dismissed, she noticed Lane stayed in his seat while his buddy, Lam, made his way to the front of the classroom. When everyone was gone, he held out his hand and said, “I’m Lam.”
She smiled an easy smile, appreciating the gesture of friendship from her boyfriend’s confidant. “I’m Vivi,” she said, offering the same as she shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I’ve got my buddy’s back.” He turned briefly, looking over his shoulder at Lane. “Which means I have your back too,” he said, bringing his attention back to her. “I’m hard to miss, so if I’m here in the classroom with the two of you, no one is going to think anything of it, you catch my drift? I plan on being a communications major in college, so I figure facilitating communication between two people during the school day should be right up my alley. And I understand you are aware that I’ve got secrets, so, as far as I’m concerned, we are all in this together.”
“That’s nice of you, Lam. I appreciate it.”
“Here’s a note,” he said, handing her a folded piece of notebook paper. “You read it. Write whatever you want. Don’t sign any names. I don’t read it. I deliver it. Then I get rid of it. Understand?”
She nodded, sort of in awe. “Okay,” she smiled, looking over at Lane. “This does feel old school, but I like it.”
She opened the note. There was an A++ and a smiley face. She took it to her desk, pulled out a pencil, and wrote XO. Then she folded the paper and handed it back to Lam, who put it in his pocket.
“I’m probably going to stay after class most days. Maybe need a little clarification on statistics now and then. My buddy, Lane, he’ll probably stay with me too. We’re tight like that.”
“Anytime,” she said. “And Lam, thank you. For all of it.”
“No problem, Miss DuVal.” Lam smiled his big smile and wow, did she see why the girls would be after him. His whole face lit up.
“Good luck on the field tomorrow night,” she said. Vivi watched big Lam maneuver through the chairs and out the rear door. She watched Lane unwind his athletic body from the desk, books in hand, and follow Lam to the door. He took off his sunglasses, looked her right in the eye, and then blew her a kiss.
Her heart stopped, and she leaned back against her desk.
This was wrong on so many levels, but right on the only one that mattered. The level where her heart sat, trying to beat its way out of her chest.
Day 2 of her teaching career.
Day 100 of loving Lane Kettering.
“Vivi?”
Principal Levendusky’s voice startled her out of her reverie.
“Yes?” she answered, standing up straight, running a hand over her brow. Nervous she’d been caught daydreaming about Lane, she looked over to see Mr. L.‘s head sticking inside her door. “Yes, sir. Come in. Please.”
“Just wanted to check on you. See how your Statistics class went.”
“Fine. Fine.” She started to laugh and then looked at him in earnest. “It wasn’t easy. I nearly had a panic attack. But I promise I’m going to give you your money’s worth and more.”
“I’m sure you will. Mr. Kettering gave me a thumbs up, so I’m assuming you two are finding your way with this so far.”
“So far, yes. I’m sure the novelty of being in the same school all day will wear off and feel more routine than it does at the moment. I’ve also taken your advice and am seeking legal counsel so that Mr. Kettering and I are clear on where we stand with the Department of Education’s rules and regulations.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I’m sure we’ll all come to an agreeable arrangement. Frankly, right now I’m banking on that because I have a request. We are in serious need of a new faculty advisor for our cheerleading squads. Ms. Goznell in the English Department has been doing it so long now she just phones it in. And there was an incident last Thursday, surrounding the JV football opener. Suffice it to say, I need someone who is willing to be a little more hands on. And probably someone who understands better how high school girls think and what kind of trouble they can get into. I definitely need someone who understands social media. Most of all, I need someone who may be able to derail a few bad ideas before they get started.
“As the faculty advisor, you’d be responsible for overseeing practices, try-outs, and any special events in which the cheerleaders partake. When I met with the captains of the Varsity squad, I asked if they had any suggestions for an advisor. One of them mentioned you.”
“Me? How do they even know about me? I just got here.”
“Stacey Collins is in your calculus class, and she likes your style.”
“My style?”
“Those were her exact words.”
“I wonder what style she’s talking about. I’m not sure I’ve actually developed a style.”
“You have something Stacey likes. And she’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“I’m not particularly athletic. I don’t have to teach cheers or anything, right?”
“No. Nothing like that. You just oversee and direct.”
“All right. I’ll do it.”
“Terrific. Now, I’m going to throw you right into the lion’s den. The vice principal is having a mandatory meeting and will be reading them all the riot act. I’m going to walk into that meeting, introduce you as their new advisor, and then leave.”
“The lion’s den, uh?”
“Yes. You up for this?”
Vivi figured she owed Mr. L. for being so understanding. She also thought if she could handle teaching a class with Lane sitting there making every nerve in her body tingle, this would be a piece of cake.
Oh, how wrong she was.
The Vice Principal’s office was packed with girls. Twenty-two of them to be exact. And they looked scared. Really, really scared. No one made a sound as she entered in front of Mr. L. No one smiled. A few of them glanced at her, but their focus ultimately drifted to the principal.
“Ladies,” he acknowledged. “This is Miss DuVal. She’s volunteered to be your new faculty advisor. Since she has more expertise with social media than Ms. Goznell has, I’m hoping she might be able to direct you all a little better. Because in case Vice Principal Baker hasn’t made himself perfectly clear, one more incident like this, one more rumor about another incident like this, whether true or false, and there will be no cheerleading squad at Wilson. We are enjoying the benefits of a winning football team. We don’t want to overshadow that with an ugly scandal. So knock it off!”
With that, Mr. L. turned, walked out, and slammed the door behind him.
“Hmm,” Vivi said. The word scandal echoing around in her brain. “I’m coming in blind. Where is Vice Principal Baker?”
“Hasn’t come in yet,” said a pretty blonde with bright blue eyes.
“Stacey?” Vivi questioned.
“Yes. I’m in your calculus class.”
“Right. You recommended me for this job?”
“I hope you’re okay with that.”
Vivi just nodded, looking over the group of girls. Athletic, each attractive in their own way, looking just like girls did when she was in high school four years ago. Some were dresse
d down, some were dressed up. All of them wore makeup, some applying it more appropriately than others.
“How many of you are seniors?” she asked.
Seven raised their hands.
“How many juniors?”
Seven more raised their hands.
“How many sophomores?”
Six.
“Freshman?”
Two.
“Why only two freshman?” Vivi looked to Stacey.
“It’s competitive. Generally freshmen have to wait to make the squad.”
Vivi nodded.
“So, what happened?”
Everyone one of them shrunk down and looked away. Except for Stacey, who surveyed the lot of them and stepped forward with her cell phone.
YouTube was opened, and a boisterous video played showing young girls very clearly dressed in Wilson cheerleader uniforms strutting their stuff up and down the aisle of a bus loaded with dirty, sweaty, victory-drunk football players. To the best of her knowledge, it appeared this was a wet T-shirt contest without the wet Tshirts.
“What is this?” Vivi asked. Not who is this? Because she really, really didn’t want to know. Faces were not shown as the camera was focused on the girls’ bust lines.
When no one said a word, she looked at the name of the YouTube account. “Bitchin’ Bros? Who is Bitchin’ Bros?”
They shook their head in unison.
“It’s Wilson’s version of Gossip Girl. Or they wanna be,” Stacey said. “No one knows who it is.”
“But you can narrow it down now to someone on this bus,” Vivi said, incredulous. Then she shook her head. There were probably a dozen videos or more of what went on during that bus ride. Those videos could have been shared through texts, emails, Instagram, whatever. Having one of them end up on YouTube was inevitable. Clearly, these girls either didn’t care, weren’t thinking, or worse…wanted to be exposed like this.
“Ladies,” Vivi started, pouring on her bossy teacher persona. “How many of you plan to attend college some day?”
Passionate Kisses 2 Boxed Set: Love in Bloom Page 66