School Fling Anthology: Class Is in Session

by Jessica Wood

  “Sure,” I said meekly.

  There was a pause before he continued. “What are your plans for lunch?”

  I looked up in surprise, “Um, well…I was… I mean, I am going to grab some lunch with Josh.” I paused. “Why?”

  “I was just curious.”

  “Oh.”

  There was another pause.

  “Do you mind if I join you guys?” he asked.

  His question caught me off guard. Brandon was our boss, so it was odd to hear him ask for permission about something.

  “Um, well, I…I suppose that’s okay. I’m sure Josh won’t mind,” I said as I tried to understand where Brandon was coming from.

  “Great, and I’ll buy lunch,” Brandon offered.

  “You don’t have to,” I said, confused by his eagerness.

  “No, I insist. I invited myself to this lunch, so I’d like to pay for it,” he said with a smile.

  “That’s nice of you, Brandon. I’m sure Josh won’t mind about that,” I said, returning his smile.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, I found myself seated between Brandon and Josh at an outdoor restaurant overlooking the San Francisco Bay and Bay Bridge. We had already placed our lunch orders, and it looked like we had exhausted all work-related topics of discussion.

  “Well I’m glad both of your projects are going well,” Brandon said to Josh and me. We nodded in agreement.

  Then there was a lull in the conversation and I started to feel uneasy.

  Just as Josh said, “So Emma—” Brandon said “Emma, tell me—” I looked from Brandon to Josh and then back to Brandon, trying to figure out who to acknowledge first so that they could finish their statement.

  There was a look on Brandon’s face that I could not place, but something inside me knew that he wasn’t happy.

  When Brandon remained silent, Josh decided to continue his statement.

  “So Emma, it was nice meeting Jill this weekend. She seems like a great best friend to have.”

  I smiled at Josh. “Yeah, I love her to death. She’s like a sister to me. I’m glad you got to meet her.” I then caught a glance at Brandon and thought I saw a flash of anger flicker in his eyes. “Don’t you think she’s so hot, Josh? She’s single,” I added teasingly, trying to clear up any possible misunderstanding Brandon might have taken from my statement.

  Josh laughed, “Yes, she is hot, but she’s not my type.”

  “Oh,” I said as I took a sip of my Diet Coke. I was not sure if he had meant anything by his comment, but I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

  “So, Brandon, how was your weekend?” I asked, trying to change the subject and bring Brandon into the conversation at the same time.

  “It was okay. I was in Boston,” Brandon said. He smiled at me, but it seemed to lack the warmth I was used to.

  “Oh, what’s in Boston?” I asked as I tried to lighten up his mood.

  “Just visiting friends there and taking care of a few things,” he said vaguely.

  “Oh yeah, Harvard is your alma mater,” Josh added.

  “Right,” Brandon said.

  “What kind of things did you have to take care of?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. There was a pause. “I mean, was it work related?” I added, trying to downplay my noisiness.

  “No. No, it was personal,” Brandon responded shortly.

  His response stung me more than I had expected. I quickly looked away from him and took another sip of my drink.

  Luckily, our waiter arrived then with our orders.

  “Everything looks so good,” Josh said. I couldn’t tell if he could feel the awkwardness I felt, but I was grateful that he was talking. “This clam chowder is amazing,” he continued. “Did you guys want to try some?” He moved his bread bowl toward us. Brandon and I both shook our heads.

  “No thanks, but it looks great,” I added reassuringly.

  “I’m sure you can make better,” Josh said. He then looked at Brandon. “Did you know Emma’s a great cook?” he asked.

  I saw Brandon’s body stiffen as he shot me a quick glance that was a mixture of anger and hurt. “Really?” he asked sharply as he eyed me. Then turned to Josh. “Has she cooked for you?” he asked.

  “No,” Josh said regretfully. “Not yet at least.” He laughed and looked hopefully at me. “I’m still waiting for that invitation.” Josh paused before continuing. “Jill mentioned it this weekend when we all went to Tomales Bay. Jill and Emma are best friends and were roommates during college, and Jill said that she rarely went out to eat because she knew Emma could make it better at home.” Josh laughed.

  I forced myself to laugh along with Josh as I shifted in my seat anxiously.

  Brandon seemed to have relaxed a little as he turned to me and smiled. “So, do you have anything planned for this coming weekend?” he asked.

  His question caught me off guard, and I didn’t know why, but I blushed.

  “Yeah, I actually have plans,” I said tentatively.

  “Oh, what are you up to?” Josh chimed in.

  “Well, I want to start volunteering at SFWAR and this weekend is their volunteer training,” I explained.

  “Oh? What’s SFWAR?” both Brandon and Josh asked. They looked at each other silently for a second and then looked back at me.

  “It’s the San Francisco Women Against Rape organization. They provide resources, support, and counseling for those who are victims of sexual violence,” I explained.

  “That’s amazing, Emma. You’re such a good person,” Brandon said. “How did you decide to volunteer for this organization?”

  I paused before saying, “Well, I think it’s an important cause, and I like helping out non-profits.”

  “That’s so cool, Emma,” Josh said. “A cook and a philanthropist.”

  I blushed. “Thanks.”

  Then Brandon and Josh again spoke at the same time. As Brandon asked, “So can you—” Josh said, “We should check out—” They looked at each other again, and this time, Brandon spoke first.

  “So can you stop by my office after lunch? I’d like to go over a few things with you.” Brandon asked.

  “Oh, sure. Of course,” I said, slightly surprised by his random question.

  Then Josh chimed in, “Hey, we should check out that new outdoor bar that just opened up this week for Friday’s happy hour,” he said excitedly. “Oh, and by we, I meant all of us,” he added gratuitously as he looked at Brandon.

  I sensed the tension between us and knew that Josh felt it too. The rest of the lunch went on this way as Brandon and Josh interrupted each other as they spoke. I felt more and more uncomfortable and was grateful when lunch finally ended. When the check came, Josh insisted on paying for at least his own meal, and against Brandon’s objections, we all ended up paying separately.

  ***

  After we got back from lunch, Brandon called me into his office.

  With my notepad and pen in hand, I sat down again in front of his desk.

  “So I’ve given it some more thought.” Brandon began. He looked at me and smiled. “And I think it’s very nice of you to offer to cook for me. I do want to get to know you more, and I don’t think having dinner together would be such a bad thing.” He paused before continuing. “So, what I’m trying to say is, I’d love to come over for dinner, if you’ll still have me.”

  I looked at him in surprise. There was a spark of hope in his eyes, and I felt that same spark in my heart.

  “Are you sure?” I asked.

  “Yes, I am.” He gave me a dazzling smile, and I melted a little in the chair.

  “Yes, I’d be happy to have you over sometime. Just let me know when,” I said, desperately trying to hide the excitement I felt inside.

  “How about Friday?” he asked.

  “Um, after happy hour?”

  “No, I was thinking we can skip that. Is that okay?”

  “Oh.” I thought about it for a moment. “I’m not sure if that would
work out though.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Well, to make prime rib, it would take about three hours in the oven,” I explained.

  “Ah, okay.” He then paused and checked something on his computer. “Well, how about this?” he began. “Besides a few calls I have lined up in the morning and a lunch meeting, my schedule on Friday is wide open. Maybe after my lunch meeting on Friday, we can go grocery shopping for everything you’ll need for the dinner, and we can head over to my condo where you can make the dinner. I have a large dining room table, so we can still do some work and go over the Imperial Hotel Project. How does that sound?”

  “Um.” I paused, taken aback by Brandon’s forwardness. “That sounds like a good plan. Should I bring over my kitchen tools though?” I asked.

  “No, no. My kitchen is well stocked with appliances, pots and pans, and kitchen tools,” he said with a laugh.

  “Oh, but I thought that you don’t cook. Did someone buy them for you?” I asked cautiously, wondering if an ex-girlfriend had bought these items when she lived there.

  He laughed. “You’re right. I don’t cook. But when I bought the condo, I thought that since I have an adult place with a gourmet kitchen, I should probably have all of those things that come with a gourmet kitchen. So after consulting with my mom, I pretty much have a Williams & Sonoma store in my kitchen.”

  I laughed. “I love a man who knows what Williams & Sonoma is.” Shit, did I seriously just say that out loud? I flushed in embarrassment and looked down at my blank notepad.

  “That’s good to know,” Brandon chuckled. “I guess I should thank my mom for that.”

  He’s definitely flirting with me, right? I thought as I felt my spirits lift.

  “So does that work for you? Friday?”

  “Sure, that sounds like a plan.” I smiled at him.

  “Great. I can’t wait, Emma. I’ll be sure to wear my fat pants that day,” he said with a wink.

  I laughed. You don’t have a single fat tissue in that muscular body of yours, I thought as memories of that night in Cancun flashed through my mind.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I beamed at him as I left his office.

  Chapter Twelve

  The rest of the week went by quickly, and before I knew it, it was Friday. I woke up an hour earlier than normal to get ready for my afternoon and dinner with Brandon. I painstakingly shaved, plucked, and cleaned myself. While I didn’t expect anything to happen with Brandon tonight, I wanted to be prepared for anything, and I mean anything. I picked out a coral wrap dress that flattered my body and brought out my emerald green eyes, and I paired it with a black cardigan and black patent stilettos.

  I felt a rush of excitement as I walked into the office building that morning. As I walked into the elevator, my heart skipped a beat when I came face to face with Brandon.

  “Well, good morning, Ms. Anderson,” Brandon said with a warm, teasing smile.

  “Good morning, Mr. Fisher,” I flirted back. As I walked in, I caught his eyes giving me a once-over. I’m so glad I took the extra time to get ready this morning.

  We stood there side by side, facing the closed elevator doors as the elevator lurched and moved us up towards the 15th floor.

  Through the silence, I felt an electric connection pulse between us. Our fingers were only inches away from one another and I desperately wanted his hands to hold mine.

  “You smell really nice today, Emma,” Brandon said, interrupting my thoughts.

  “Oh,” I said in surprise. “Thanks.” I felt my cheeks flush.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  “It’s J’adore by Dior,” I said, slightly embarrassed.

  “My French is a bit rusty, but doesn’t that mean, ‘I like you’ or something?” he asked. He turned to me and smiled.

  “Um, I believe the direct translation is, ‘I adore you,’ and I think it means something like, ‘I love you so much that I adore you,’” I explained as I continued to blush. It seems so fitting too, I thought.

  “Well, it smells really nice on you,” he said as the elevator doors opened. “So I’m really excited about dinner,” he said, changing the subject.

  “Me too.” I smiled at him.

  “And as promised, I’m wearing my fat pants,” he grinned as he motioned to his pants.

  I laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I honestly can’t tell they’re any different from your other pants.”

  “Okay”—he paused as he leaned closer to me—“between you and me, there’s no difference,” he whispered as he winked at me. “I just like to see you laugh. It really suits you.”

  I smiled at him, at a loss for words.

  “Anyway, I’m pretty much tied up until one p.m. Why don’t you meet me downstairs in the lobby then? My lunch meeting is across the street, but I’ll need to come back here for my car.”

  “Sure, sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”

  ***

  “It’s starting to smell amazing in there. Is there anything I can help you with?” Brandon asked from the dining room, where he was reviewing some documents for the Imperial Hotel Project.

  “Actually, I might need some help taking the prime rib out,” I said from the kitchen.

  “At your service,” Brandon said seconds later as he stood beside me. He took the oven mitts from me. “Here, let me take it out. I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s the least I can do. Do you want me to carve it?” he asked.

  “Not yet. We need to let it rest.”

  “Rest?” He looked confused.

  I laughed. “Yes, rest. Resting is when you leave the meat undisturbed after removing it from the heat.”

  “Oh, why’s that?”

  “Well, when you roast meat, the natural juices moves to the center of the meat. So if you don’t allow the meat to rest, all the juices will come out onto the cutting board when you slice it. But if you allow it to rest, the juices will be able to reabsorb back into the meat, making it more tender,” I explained.

  “Wow, that sounds amazing. So how do you, uh, let this meat sleep?” he asked.

  I giggled. “You mean rest, not sleep. Fifteen minutes should be enough time.”

  He laughed at himself. “And this is why I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.” As if in response, we heard his stomach growl in contempt. “As you can see, I cannot wait for this meal.” He smiled at me. It was warm, genuine, and alluring.

  I smiled back at him, realizing that I could never get tired of seeing him smile at me this way.

  “Anything else?” he asked eagerly.

  “Well, the French string beans with almond slivers are done. I’ll put it in the oven to keep it warm. I think the only thing we have left is to make the Guinness au jus dip for the prime rib and the mashed potatoes,” I said as I ran down the checklist in my head.

  “Ok, just tell me what to do.”

  “Let me start the au jus dip, and why don’t you get the mashed potatoes ready? I’ve already cubed them and boiled them. We just need to mash them up and add in some ingredients. Do you mind doing the mashing?” I asked.

  “I’m on it,” he said as he looked at the pot of potatoes.

  I turned away from Brandon toward the stove and began making the au jus sauce with the pan drippings from the prime rib and a full can of Guinness.

  A few seconds later, Brandon asked, “Just one question though.” I turned back to him. “How do you actually mash potatoes?” His innocent confusion was endearing and made me laugh.

  “I believe I saw a masher earlier,” I said as I went through his kitchen drawers. “Here it is.” I pulled out the potato masher.

  “Oh.” Brandon looked at it sheepishly.

  “What?” I asked, confused by the expression on his face.

  “That’s a potato masher?” he said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah. What did you think it was?” I looked at
him with amusement.

  “Well, I thought it was for the grill. I’ve been using it to press the hamburger meat while it’s cooking over the grill.”

  There was a slight pause as we looked at each other, and then we broke out in laughter.

  “Okay, well, do you want to try out your potato masher for the first time then?” I asked as I handed him the masher.

  “You bet I do,” he said with a chuckle.

  As he mashed the potatoes in the pot, I went to check on the au jus dip simmering on low on the stove. Then I turned my attention back to Brandon and helped him with the mashed potatoes by adding in some crushed garlic, butter, milk, sour cream, salt, and chives.

  As he moved, I could not help but notice the muscles of his arm flexing against his light blue shirt. We were inches away from one another, but our bodies did not touch. I could feel the heat of his body and his breath against my face. For a few minutes, we worked in silence, which seemed to intensify the tension that was growing between us.

  I grabbed a spoon next to the pot and he watched me as I scooped up some of the mashed potato concoction into my mouth.

  “How does it taste?” he asked as he eyed my lips.

  “Not bad. It may need a touch more salt.” I felt my face blush as he looked at me.

  “Can I try?” he asked. I waited for him to reach for the spoon. He didn’t.

  “Um, sure.” I scooped up another spoonful and fed it to him. Our eyes locked as he took the spoon into his mouth.

  “It tastes amazing,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Then I felt his hand next to my face as he brushed his thumb across my lips and the roughness of his finger sent a chill down my spine. “You had some sour cream on your lips,” he said as he licked the sour cream from his thumb.

  At that moment, we leaned forward toward each other, our faces now inches apart, and I could feel his deep breaths tickling my face.

  “It really does taste amazing,” he said in nearly a whisper. “In fact”—he paused as he pulled me closer to him—“I’d like to have some more.” He then leaned down toward me, and I closed my eyes, anticipating the touch of his lips on mine.

  Just then, a burning smell hit my senses and I jumped away from Brandon and ran to the stove. “Shit, the au jus dip.”