Two years. The tea leaves in the bottom of her cup would taste less bitter than the sour reminder she’d wasted so much time with Phil. She wasn’t going to waste a single second more.
An hour after she’d left Dan’s place, left the surprising nature of his care, he’d sent her a text. RUOK? Checking up. But she couldn’t be annoyed about that, he had every right. She’d rubbed the line right out, given him little choice but to deal with her hysteria any way he could. If she’d been designing a test for a man to pass, he could hardly have scored a higher mark.
She’d have had the same care from Scott, with more inspired catering and with tea laced with bite to help her sleep. And Scott would’ve understood as well, would’ve held her, soothed her, set her on her feet again, so why didn’t she go to Scott, in whose arms she’d played this drama out before, in whose response there was a guarantee?
That was the question she struggled to answer, and it made her feel slightly ashamed because the response was all bound up in the history of a kiss.
A kiss inspired by a hundred little touches, looks, and movements, and then germinated in a semi-dark corridor with a soft hug and a sharp slap, to be born quick with a safe touch to the cheek, then grown with the promise of lips meeting when no one was looking. A kiss fully matured, though staged and artificial, grafted on her heart to send shoots of light and heat zinging through her body whenever she thought of Dan.
The answer was hormones, pheromones, the science of the body, lust. And it had her in its clutches.
Alex didn’t go back to bed, shout, skip her lecture, or smash anything. She drank tea, dried her eyes, tucked her hurt pride back in its place, squared her shoulders, and thought of Dan. There was no reason for a line now, no reason not to scrub it out altogether and play a different game.
“Never did think much of corporate man, though he did have nice shoes,” said Scott and Alex felt his hug like home, familiar and comfortable. “How much should I worry about you?”
“Less than you might think necessary. I feel stupid for letting it happen, but I’ll be fine. I thought he was right for me, but he wasn’t exactly a barrel of laughs. I think it’s time for me to have some fun.”
Scott did a half squint, half eyebrow raise and looked slightly demented. “Should I be worried about that?”
“Only if I send up a flare.”
“Can you cope if I send one up now?”
“Sure.”
“I’m double-booked for a physio session. Can you take the beginners on your own? Trevor is going to do Advanced Latin and you can start Dan on the new routine.”
“Easy.”
Well, it would be, but all the students arrived on time except Dan, and Alex was suddenly nervous. What if he’d bailed? What if he’d taken one look at the mess she was last night and decided he wanted out? Dan, not Phil, had been the riff playing in her thoughts all day. It was almost inconceivable that he’d decided to quit now, but he was never late, not in all the weeks they’d been working together. She must have looked concerned because Mitch said, “It’s a funny story about Dan,” and Alex felt herself tense, her lack of sleep now a clear liability.
Mitch had his audience now. He leaned forward as though about to impart a secret, looked around the group, then threw back his head and roared with laughter. “His car broke down.”
Alex exhaled, felt her shoulders let go. He hadn’t run. He hadn’t quit. He was just late. She laughed too.
The mechanic arrived just as the laughter was settling.
“Laugh it up,” Dan said, walking into the centre of the group. “I’ll remember this when you need new spark plugs or your alternator chucks it in.” But he was laughing too, and the sight of him moving among the group, exchanging a private word here or there, made Alex’s heart swell. She wanted to pull him aside, look in his eyes, and read his thoughts.
“It was just too good,” said Mitch. “Like a plumber with a blocked toilet.”
“An English teacher with an illiterate kid,” Fluke chimed in.
“An accountant with a tax problem.”
“A dentist with a cavity.”
“I thought you weren’t coming?” Dan’s regular partner Jenni pouted.
“Couldn’t drag me away,” he said, but instead of looking at Jenni, he burned Alex with the intensity of his gaze.
Organising the class was easier than organising her thoughts, than stopping herself from making any excuse to touch Dan, to correct him, to reposition his hand, or tighten his frame. His presence on the floor was like a magnet, drawing her eyes when she should’ve been focused elsewhere. He wasn’t a beginner anymore, so he didn’t need her attention like the others did. There was no real reason for him to be in the class any longer, but he stayed to keep the numbers even, to hang with Mitch and Fluke, to win the bet and finish what he started.
Every time she cheated and sought his eyes, he was looking back at her. It made her look away, their eye contact a sport of thrust and parry, a precursor to something more sustained.
Dan watched Alex trying not to watch him. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he liked it. He’d worried about her on and off all day, under engines and hoods, on the phone to wreckers and manufacturers. For once the long hold on an insurer’s help line was a respite. He could daydream with impunity, think about the way she fit in his arms and in his bed without fear of doing himself damage with a dropped tool or a wrong part number ordered.
Something between them changed last night. He’d been scared she’d retreat, go cold, withdraw from embarrassment, and hide behind her teacher role. He was happy to be her student but there were other things he wanted to learn: the contours of her face, the delicacy and strength of her body, the thoughts behind her eyes. But rebound was a place he had no desire to visit.
Towards the end of class Dan saw a sudden flare in Alex’s eyes. She gathered herself, the muscles across her chest tightening, her shoulders. He followed her gaze and his sight was arrested by a man in the doorway. Dressed in an expensively cut grey suit, Phil had a worried expression and an enormous bunch of flowers in his hands – Phil, the cheat. Phil, the liar. Phil, the ‘lucky to get out of here alive’ if he so much as looked like he might upset Alex.
She was moving now through the class, to what? Confront Phil? Reconcile with him? Dan wanted to shout at her not to let the bastard suck her in with his sudden appearance and his armload of forgive-me blossoms. He held his breath and watched.
The rest of the class took it as a signal to take a break and scattered, most of them leaving the room. It might’ve been polite to do the same and give Alex her space, but there was no way Dan was going anywhere until he could read the wind. Taking his signal, neither Mitch nor Fluke moved any further than the bench at the side of the room.
Phil spoke first. “Alex, darling, I’ve been worried sick. You wouldn’t answer my calls. Are you alright?”
Alex stopped a few feet in front of Phil and stood, legs apart, arms folded tight across her body. “I’m fine. I’ve got nothing to say to you. You need to leave.”
Behind her, Dan breathed out.
“I’ve left her. We can be together, honestly be together.”
“You’re incredible, Phil. You can’t possibly think I would have anything to do with you now?”
“I love you, Alex. I’ve always loved you. It was just complicated. I always meant to tell you about her, but I didn’t want to upset you. I knew once I left her it wouldn’t matter. We could be together.”
“We will never be together.”
“Darling, you’re not listening to me. I’ve left her for you. Isn’t that what you want?”
Dan saw Alex shift, take a step back away from Phil. “I want you to leave.”
“Darling, you’re upset. I understand. Let’s go someplace more private where we can talk.”
“Please leave, Phil.” Steel and ice in her voice.
Phil held his hand out. “I’ll leave if you come with me.”
Alex said
, “Go,” and Dan walked up and stood behind her, close enough to touch, close enough to get to Phil before he could get to Alex. “Mate, you heard what she said. She wants you to go.”
“Back off, grease monkey. This has nothing to do with you.”
Dan heard Mitch make a growling sound as he came and stood on Alex’s right. He looked at Fluke who grinned. There was no point in him getting up too – it’s not like they needed any more muscle on display.
“Just go, Phil. Go and don’t come back,” she said.
“Alex, you need to give me a chance.”
“I don’t need to give you anything, ever again. Go.”
“I left her for you,” Phil said, voice raised, his anger making him tighten his grip on the flowers, making them tremble in their expensive arrangement.
“Leave or I will call the cops, Phil. Come near me again and I will call the cops.”
“Come near her again and it won’t be the cops you’ll have to worry about,” said Dan and Mitch nodded once emphatically.
“Alex!”
“I swear to God, Phil. Leave now or...”
“Or what, Alexandra? You’ll have your pathetic little nancy-boy students rough me up.”
Mitch growled again and Dan put his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Say the word and he’s roadkill.” He could feel her shaking, so he stepped a little closer and kept his hand where it was.
“Alright, I’m going. I just want you to know that you’re throwing away a good life, Alex. A good life and the chance to make something of yourself.”
“We would never have had a good life.”
“You stupid little girl.”
“That’s it!” said Mitch. “He’s mine.” This time the possessive was entirely suitable to Dan’s ears as he watched Mitch step past Alex and make for Phil, sweeping the flowers from his hands and walking him backwards towards the door, fists up ready to strike.
Alex sagged back into his arms. She was shaking from the adrenaline rush. Dan folded himself around her and held her while she struggled to control her breathing.
In seconds, Mitch was back, a big smile on his face. He’d enjoyed that. He dusted off his hands in a cartoonish gesture. “That was fun. Call me anytime you need the garbage chucked out, Teach.”
He got a weak smile from Alex and no eye contact from Dan. What the? And what was this Alex in Dan’s arms thing? Where did that come from? It wasn’t looking very student – teacher, more hunter – prey, no, more fish – hooked. Hah, he thought, we’ll see about that.
36. Death of the Dog Day
Waiting for class to finish was the watched kettle, the wet wallpaper drying, the grass growing. It was the longest fifteen minutes Dan could remember. He wanted to be able to look at Alex up close and know she was all right.
She was doing a good imitation of it, taking care with one of the married couples, sharing a joke with Fluke and Carlie, then welcoming the advanced group and sending them into the other room with a newly arrived Trevor. He knew he was staring at her and caught Mitch shaking his head at him. It didn’t make him stop.
Finally they had the room to themselves. There could’ve been sudden shyness, whispered apologies, fresh minted tears, a slightly too desperately held hug, the vague threat of unspoken endearments, or simply painful, stumbling embarrassment and awkwardness born of daylight. There was none of that.
Alex came to stand in front of him the tips of her shoes touching his, the light of her eyes in his gaze. Neither of them pressed for more. She had dark circles topping her cheeks, but she was smiling.
“You take the rescuing damsels in distress thing way too seriously.”
“Do I?”
“You should loosen up a bit.”
“Should I?”
“Would you like to dance?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Dan watched Alex move towards the stereo, wondered if her joking manner was real or fake, if the exaggerated shift of her hips was for his benefit. “Alex?”
She turned back to face him, now out of reach. “I’m good, Dan. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry about last night.”
She didn’t play their track; she picked another song, whistling, then lyrics about shooting for stars and aiming for hearts. Maroon 5’s Adam Levine and Christina Aguilera singing about having moves like Mick Jagger.
To dance with her would be enough for now. He waited to feel her hand on his shoulder, but she launched herself at him, slamming into him, knocking him back a step, her arms around his neck, her feet off the ground. He had to stop himself from gripping her too hard, from pressing her to his heart so that no one would ever hurt her again. When he released her, he looked for tears; he was surprised by mischief.
If this was a lesson, it was starting with a make-believe scenario more like something from the Son of a Beach Bar, Alex less teacher-with-instructions and more temptress-on-the-prowl.
She sang the chorus, “Take me by the tongue and I’ll know you,” and it felt like a direct invitation. She moved close and teased him with searing looks and quick hot hands. He tried to hold her in place against his hips, but she danced away. He snatched her hand and she brought his knuckles to her cheek. She turned and her ponytail flicked across his collarbone. He lunged for her and she laughed at him, dancing further away, making him chase her.
He’d worked up a sweat now, his skin blistered with moisture. Alex moved in close and when he lifted his arm to hold her, she dipped her head and ran her tongue over his bicep, tasting his sweat. He inhaled in surprise and grabbed for her again, but she was faster and spun away from him, her eyes blazing.
She sang another line, “You wanna know how to make me smile. Take control, own me just for the night,” and Dan knew she wasn’t so much teasing anymore as she was requesting. The small part of his brain that wasn’t flooded with the heat of seduction was asking how they got here so quickly, how they’d gone from tears and heartache in the dark to this dance of enticement, this promise of capture and release.
He was overwhelmed by her allure. He stopped trying to figure her out and went with it. He took her hand, threaded her against his side. He closed his fist over her ponytail and pulled the band until it dropped to the ground releasing her hair in a silken cloud around her face and shoulders. This time she gasped and turned so she could press her length against him and bury her hands in his hair, pressing her digits to his scalp like she was trying to feel his thoughts through her finger tips.
When they kissed there was nothing denied, hesitant, teasing, or staged about it. This kiss was body-tensing, soul-opening, heart-shocking, electrical in its impact, stinging in its intensity, uncontained, addictive, and altering. Dan lost time, lost place, lost the desire to stand, and ended sitting on the floor, wrapped in Alex, breathless and careless and vibrating with sensation.
This kiss was in its prime. It took flight, soared, broke the sound barrier, orbited the stars, and sighted new galaxies. It made Dan an astronaut, weightless, floating until a spooky crackle of static from the stereo called him back to his body.
She was pressed to him, chest to chest, hip to hip. “Alex, I...”
“Shhh.”
“We...”
“I know.”
“But...”
“There are no lines anymore.”
“Baby, there needs to be.”
“No.”
“It’s too soon.”
“It’s been a long time coming.”
“You’re hurt and confused.”
“Not about this.”
In this new tender-soaked quiet, the small part of Dan’s brain could shout and be heard, clarion clear. Not like this, not yet, not with this woman. He pressed his lips to her temple, stroked his hand down her glossy hair, breathed the spicy perfume of her moist skin. If he didn’t say it, he was scum for taking advantage of her hurt. If he didn’t say it, he was everything Fluke didn’t trust anymore. If he didn’t say it, he was Jimmy’s son. Once nothing else but having the chick wou
ld have mattered, but with this woman everything mattered.
“Alex, I can’t do this.”
It took a long time for her to react. It took a long time for her to lift her face, study his eyes, drop her arms from his neck. When she unwrapped her legs from his waist and stood she moved slowly as though giving him every opportunity to change his mind, take it back, claim her once again. He let her go.
She went to the stereo, did something with its dials. Left him sitting there, now conscious of the hard floor, the soft strains of the music from the class next door, and the gravity of what he’d done.
They’d reached the same conclusion. Dan had done it with Alex. They just didn’t agree on what he’d done.
“He’s definitely fucked her,” said Fluke.
“I’m not so sure. I think she might be the ‘friend’,” Mitch made finger quotation marks in the air.
Fluke made a single finger gesture.
“If you weren’t still so pissed off with him, you wouldn’t discount the friend theory so quickly. Look at Alex. She’s not Dan’s average one-night-stand. She’s not anyone’s.”
“Maybe, but see how they are together. It’s enough to make you sick. All touchy and looky and melty.”
Mitch laughed. “You jealous?”
“No.” A pause during which Mitch tried and failed to squeeze a splinter out of his finger and Fluke brooded into his beer. Then Fluke said, “Shit yeah! Why is it always him?”
When Dan arrived, Mitch could see he looked tired and grumpy. He was often tired after a rehearsal with Scott and Alex, but never grumpy.
“What gives?” said Mitch, putting a coke in front of Dan. Dan had stopped drinking mid-week altogether now. He’d stopped doing a lot of things and started doing different ones.
Dan took a sip, sucked up an ice cube, and crunched it. He eyeballed Fluke, “I’m fucking miserable and I hope you’re happy.” He waited for Fluke to grin or laugh or make some smart arse comment, but Fluke just sat there, hands folded on the bar top. Dan was disappointed; he felt like a good fight. He stared at those freckled knuckles. “I could’ve had her.” He looked into Fluke’s blue eyes. “But I had you in my head telling me it was wrong.”
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