One Wild Night

by A. L. Jackson

  I figured it was all just morbid curiosity, anyway. Fodder for water cooler gossip. None of their business. So, when my phone continued to ding and ring throughout the day, I’d switched it off and opted for a day on the couch with my best friend and a bottle of wine.

  Okay, two.

  Could anyone blame me?

  Of course, my own morbid curiosity had set in the second Elle had left me for the night with the promise it would blow over. Quick to be forgotten. But as soon as the quiet had set in, all the implications had come barreling back. The things the reporters had said and the insinuations they had made.

  So, what did I do? Because I’m just that much of a masochist, I went and typed #PaxtonMyles into my Twitter search.

  That was the worst thing I could have done.

  The cruel, vicious things complete strangers had said about me had haunted me all night. You could call it jealousy. The rabid fangirls who had so many nasty things to say about me.

  Just mean.

  Not to mention hypocritical.

  Because there was no doubt in my mind every single one of them would have jumped at the chance to kick me out of that spot.

  I took one last glance in the rear-view mirror.

  And cringed.

  This morning, I had to look worse off than the pictures had proclaimed when I’d been hopping Paxton’s gate.

  Nothing I could do about it now, and I needed to get into my classroom to get things set up for the beginning of the week.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the warm day, the California sun bright and way cheerier than I felt. I tucked my head and stared at my feet as I made a beeline for my classroom.

  I’d give it a good go to just hide until all of this blew over.

  I gasped when the large figure stepped out in front of me, shadow eclipsing me, my body coming to a jilted stop the flash of a second before I’d have barreled right into him.

  Steven Washington.

  My boss.

  The headmaster of Kensington Palisades.

  That war that was going on in my stomach? It plummeted right to the ground.

  Swallowing around the huge knot in my throat, I warily glanced up. His face was tight and grim, his stance harsh.

  “Ms. Burton, would you please come with me to my office.”

  I hesitated, stuttered over the words. “Uh…I need to get to my classroom to get things—”

  “It wasn’t a question, Ms. Burton.”

  He didn’t wait for me to answer. He spun on his heel without further word and headed toward the front of the building. He moved through the side door and into his big office filled with heavy dark brown leather chairs and even darker furniture.

  He gestured to a chair facing his desk as he sank into his leather office rocker. “Have a seat.”

  Unsteadily, I lowered myself to the seat, sitting just on the edge, clutching my bag to my chest. I couldn’t even meet his eye.

  “Ms. Burton.”

  He said it like a warning.

  An omen.

  And I just knew.

  “I’m so sorry.” It came out on a strained gush of apologetic air.

  I could almost see him shaking his head, resigned. “You know what a wonderful job you’ve done for this school…”

  No. No. No.

  Don’t say it.

  “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what you saw, but I can assure you—”

  “And I can assure you I saw enough.” Once again, he cut me off.

  Panicked, I turned tactic. “What I do with my personal life doesn’t reflect on my ability as a teacher.”

  He sighed. “See…that is where you’re wrong, Ms. Burton. Kensington Palisades has a reputation to uphold as the premiere private school in the area, and…well…it seems you’ve gained yourself your own reputation this weekend.”

  Horror latched onto my chest, and he just continued on, “I fielded calls all weekend from concerned parents…worried about what kind of influence you are on their kindergartners. I’m sorry, but that is not the type of concern we as a school can shoulder nor overlook.”

  “What are you saying?” The words spilled out. Harsh and desperate.

  “I’m saying we are going to have to let you go.”

  Devastation bottled in my chest, and I struggled for a breath. “But my kids,” I pled.

  “Are no longer your concern. We’ve called in a substitute until we can find a permanent replacement.”

  I blinked. Dazed. “Sir.”

  I could feel him shaking his head. His voice softened. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I am. I like you, and you’re a good teacher. But my bottom line is this school and its well-being. You know as well as I do how difficult these parents are to please. And with something as public as this…” he trailed off, letting the rest hang in the air.

  I nodded my head.

  I wasn’t sure it was in acceptance, because really, I couldn’t process anything.

  Nothing but this nagging regret.

  A quiet devastation.

  “Kirk will show you to your office so you can gather your things and escort you out.”

  Disoriented, I nodded again, stumbled to my feet. My eyes moved to the security guard already waiting at the door.

  Oh. God.

  A wave of sadness hit me.

  How could this be happening? My entire life, the only thing I’d ever wanted to be was a teacher, and I’d destroyed that dream with one reckless mistake.

  Humiliated, I studied my feet. The pile of the carpet. The tiny fleck of paper. Anything but the pity on the old man’s face who I considered my friend. I shuffled his way.

  “Let’s get your things, Ms. Burton,” he said so quietly I could barely hear, though there was no missing the sympathy that was woven into it.

  “Okay.”

  Kirk set a box on my desk, and I loaded it with the few things that actually belonged to me. A picture of me with my family, a few drawings the kids had done for me, my planner.

  “All done,” I said, offering Kirk a feeble smile that was so entirely forced I was fairly certain my face might crack with the strain of it.

  That was when another rush of sadness came swooping in.

  Binding to my heart.

  I followed him out into the hall where children were beginning to arrive. I could feel the burn of the parents’ stares, those who had shunned and shamed me because of one night.

  I tried to ignore the snickers and hushed conversations that weren’t so hushed that I couldn’t hear.

  Slut.

  Gold digger.

  Tramp.

  Seriously, was this 1972?

  Kirk led me all the way out to my car. “Take care of yourself now, Kaylee Rose. Don’t let none of this get to you. You’re a good girl. All of us smart ones know it, too. It’ll all work out. Just wait. But I’m sure gonna miss you ’round here.”

  I wished he were right.

  That Elle had been right.

  That it’d just blow over.

  Forgotten in days.

  But they were so utterly wrong.

  I slumped down in my car and started the engine, quick to leave the lot because I couldn’t stand the stares for a second more. I drove the twenty minutes to my condo.

  Halfway home, I had to send yet another call from my mother to voicemail.

  Then I turned around and tortured myself with her message.

  Tears streaked down my face as I listened to her words.

  Kaylee Rose, call me, baby girl. Your face is all over the place and all the neighbors are calling, asking questions, looking for something else to add to the gossip. I need to know that you’re okay. I’m all the way across the country, and I don’t know if you’re okay. Please call me.

  I deleted her message, whispered into my car, “No, Mama, I’m not okay.”

  Because one wild night had turned into my worst nightmare.

  Of course, that nightmare only got worse when I pulled up to my townho
use.

  Paparazzi.

  Everywhere.

  Emotion knotted up everywhere. Embarrassment. Sadness. And anger.

  Anger.

  Suddenly, there was a whole lot of that.

  How dare they take my picture without my knowing? How dare these parents take the most important thing away from me—their children? My job and my future and my career.

  My joy.

  How dare Paxton Myles chase me all night until I succumbed to his charms?

  How dare HE?!

  Somewhere deep inside I knew it was just as much my fault as it was his. I’d made the choice, and God, it’d been just about the best night I’d ever had.

  But was it worth the price?

  Regret pressed at my chest.

  Not even close.

  I ducked my head, praying the photographers would just let me be, and pulled into my spot. I didn’t sit and wait or catch my breath.

  I bolted out of the door with my key in my hand, ran across the parking lot, and fumbled to shove the key into the lock.

  At the same second, I was surrounded. Lights flashed and questions fired. A barrage of voices pummeled me left and right.

  Kaylee, can you tell me about your relationship with Paxton Myles.

  Are you dating Paxton Myles, Ms. Burton?

  Is it true you are an aspiring actress?

  Can you comment on being released from your position at Kensington Palisades?

  Kaylee.

  Kaylee.

  Kaylee.

  It all became a buzz of horror in my ears. I finally got the door open and stumbled into the dim light inside. Gasping for a breath, I slammed the door shut behind me.

  Thankfully, all the drapes were drawn over the windows to keep out the light, not to mention the outside intrusion and speculation.

  I pressed my back to the door. Trying to calm my racing heart. Trying to shove off the panic and to slow the quickly settling dread as I fully began to process what fooling around with a Hollywood god had cost me.

  That gorgeous, Greek god.

  The man with a wicked smile and a perfect touch.

  It had cost me everything.

  I dragged myself to the couch and slumped down on it, fighting the tears that burned at my eyes, wishing there was a way to drown out everything. To go back and change the decision I’d made.

  But there was no escape.

  Because throughout the day, the doorbell continued to ring.

  Anger and frustration and sorrow burned in my blood, ramping into irritation and anxiety. My nerves shot, and my stomach in a million knots.

  When it rang again, I’d had enough.

  I’d had enough of the prying.

  Enough of the intrusion.

  With my hands balled in fists, I stomped to the front door and threw it open, a slew of profanities poised on my tongue, because I refused to cower and hide.

  Then everything froze. All except for my heart that took off at a sprint.

  Because standing at my door was none other than Paxton Myles.

  Chapter 10

  Paxton

  My knuckles sting from beating on this door for the last five minutes, but I'll be damned if I'm going anywhere until she opens it. I refuse to glance over my shoulder at those heathens trying to get another shot of Kaylee with their cameras.

  “Pax, can you tell us the status of your relationship with Kaylee Burton?” one reporter from a tabloid television show hollers from behind me.

  “Can you confirm if she was fired from her job at Kensington Palisades as it's been reported?” another yells.

  “Open the fucking door, Kaylee,” I mumble to myself as I rap on the door again, this time with more force…more desperation. I lean forward, my head hanging in defeat as another reporter hollers an inaudible question from behind me.

  A gush of cool air assaults me as the front door flies open and, when I lift my head, my heart stops as Kaylee stands stunned in the open doorway.

  “Kay,” I say quietly, hoping she'll let me in. The reporters behind us go nuts, yelling questions, while cameras click wildly, trying to get a glimpse at the both of us.

  “Can I come in?”

  She stares at me, tears hanging heavy in those beautiful eyes of hers. She nods and steps aside, and I carefully push her out of the way before shutting the door, leaving the world outside.

  “Why are you here?” she asks, her voice breaking as she swipes at the tears that finally began to fall. I want to pull her into me and hold her, smell her. Just feel her. I need to feel her.

  “Why did you leave the other morning?” I take a careful step toward her, giving her space, but closing a bit of the distance between us.

  “Because I didn't want this.” She flings her arm toward the door and the chaos just outside it. “Pax, I had a great time…I didn't want to leave, but you and I—” Her voice breaks, and she looks down to her feet.

  “You and I what, Kaylee?”

  “We're from two different worlds. I'm a kindergarten teacher…well, was a kindergarten teacher. You're a Hollywood hunk—”

  I scoff at that remark.

  “What? You are,” she continues. “We got caught up in a wild night and the last thing I wanted was for it to affect your career…or mine.”

  She pushes past me, and I hate the feeling of her fleeing from me. She tosses herself down on her couch and pulls a pillow tightly into her lap. “What have we done?” she says quietly. “What have I done?” she corrects herself, placing the blame on herself.

  I'll be damned if I'm going to let her do that, take the blame.

  I take a deep breath and walk across her living room toward her. She looks up at me, those beautiful eyes marred in red, her cheeks splotchy from crying.

  “Stand up,” I order her and hold out my hand for her to take. She hesitates, dropping her eyes to my waiting hand. “Come on, Kaylee,” I encourage her. She swallows hard and tosses the pillow from her lap onto the couch next to her.

  With a shaky hand, she reaches for mine, her soft fingers sliding into the palm of my hand. I gently tug her closer to me when she stands up, finally getting her where she belongs—next to me. I brush my thumb across her damp cheek, wiping away any remaining tears.

  “You didn't do anything wrong. I didn't do anything wrong. What we did, we did together,” I start. I brush a stray piece of hair off her forehead. “What we did wasn't wrong.” I pull her closer, snaking my arm around her waist. “What we did I enjoyed…and I want to do it again.”

  I feel her tense at my admission, and my stomach flips. What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not an 'admit your feelings' kind of guy, and I'm pretty sure I just scared the shit out of her.

  “Or, we can—”

  “I'm scared,” Kaylee cuts me off.

  “Of what?”

  “Of getting hurt. Of them.” She points toward her door and the barbarians outside, trying to get the next big headline.

  “Fuck them,” I tell her, anger bubbling beneath the surface. I fucking hate the paparazzi, but I know how to deal with them. She doesn't. “And I can't promise you that you won't get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “But—”

  “Come with me, Kaylee.” It's not really a question, or a demand…but it's me laying it all out there. My eyes beg her to come with me. I need her with me. I need her to give this, us, a chance. She pulls her lips between her teeth and contemplates my question.

  “I'm leaving for London tonight. I have press junkets and a foreign film premiere, and I want you there with me. I want you at my side for all of this.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Confusion moves across her brow. “Why, Pax?”

  “Because I like you, Kaylee. Because I like us together. Because—I don't know, something just clicks with us. It’s easy, and natural, and I like it. I like you.” I shrug a shoulder, feeling like a little bitch for putting it a
ll out there. But isn't that what women want? Honesty?

  I can see her fighting the small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “I mean, what do you have lose, Kay?”

  And look at me with my nickname for her already. If Philip was here, he'd take my man card and light in on fire.

  “Everything.” She sighs and retreats, pulling herself away from me.

  “Seems like you already have.” I realize what a dick I sound like when those words fall from my lips. “Let’s see what you can find. There's a whole world out there—let me show it to you.”

  “This is crazy,” she whispers and looks around her condo. “I can't just leave with you. I mean, I have to find a job. I need to figure out my life.”

  “There's no better time to take a little break, Kaylee. You have no responsibilities right now. There's nothing keeping you here. Come with me. Let the press settle down a bit here before you start looking for a new job. Plus, who's going to hire a teacher in the middle of the school year?”

  “I hope someone will!” she shrieks. “I need money. I can't just gallivant around the world with you, Pax. I can't afford Europe.”

  “You're not paying for it, it's included in the film’s press budget. It's two weeks, Kaylee. Just come with me. Give me two weeks.”

  She presses her fingers to her temples and rubs them in small circles.

  “I promise you, it'll be worth it.” I'm doing a lousy job of trying to convince her. I'm practically begging her. I'm about ready to revoke my own man card, shit.

  She glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Worth it for who?” she says, and I inwardly cringe at her remark.

  “For both of us. Let's get to know each other better.”

  “Two weeks?” she asks and drops her hands to her side. I can see her brain ticking away inside her beautiful head.

  “Just two weeks. Take this time to map out your next move.” I take a few steps closer to her. “Take this time to get to know me better.” I take a few more steps.

  “What if I don't like you?” She smirks and props her hands on her hips.

  “Then I'll send you home on a plane earlier.” I loop my arms through the opening of hers and pull her to my chest. “But I promise, you're not going to want to go home early.” I pull her into a hug.