Against The Wall

by Julie Prestsater

  “Ms. Gelson, are you okay?” Meg, my student aide, asks.

  Trying to muffle my sniffling noises, I force myself to respond. “Oh, I’m fine honey. Nothing some chocolate and a little makeup can’t fix.” I open the bottom drawer to my desk to reveal a rather large bag of dark Dove chocolates. Too bad I can’t rig a keg of beer in my desk. Or maybe squeeze a twelve pack in my mini-fridge. I wish. For some reason, I don’t think chocolate is going to cure this one.

  “I saw Mr. Marino leaving and he looked like crap. Don’t worry. It’s not gonna last, ya know. My best friend, Keesha, is his aide this year and she says she's rallying for you. She wants him to dump that big assed beeyotch soon. She's so fake with her caked on makeup and hooker heels. She reminds me of my ex-best friend. You have class, something Ms. McG doesn't. Marino will figure it out.” I look at her all wide-eyed, and she says, “Oh, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I forget you’re my teacher.”

  I can remember comforting her when she was a freshman and found out her best friend was doing the deed with her boyfriend. Can you imagine having to deal with that level of drama when you're fourteen? I wish I could tell her it gets better. But what I want to do is hug her, and say thank you. I knew there was a reason I liked her. I should buy her lunch.

  My students fill their desks and immediately get started on the bell-ringer—the assignment I posted on the board. I sense the whispers, but I don’t look up. I take attendance, all the while thinking about Chase. I wonder if Ms. McGallian knows about his little lunch time visit. I doubt she’s included in the masses of people who miss me at lunch. If she doesn’t know he stopped by, she will by the end of the period. If there’s anything I know about my school and my students, it’s information spreads like The Plague. Right now, Meg is on her cell texting, and I’d bet a hundred bucks she’s telling her friends. I wish I could see Ms. Fiancé-Stealer’s face when she finds out her man left my room all weepy.

  Let the games begin, bitches!

  Chapter Two

  Mel and I are part of a handful of people who arrive to our staff meetings early. Like bad students, we sit in the back of the room, where we have a clear view of everyone as they walk in. This comes to our advantage when the bobbles—our bosses who mumble and nod away like bobble heads—start doing their thing, chattering away even though less than half the staff is actually listening. Mel’s a natural born shit talker and this is an optimal environment for endless sources of material.

  We’re definitely not the only ones being rude though. Teachers truly make the worst students. Talking, texting, cracking jokes. All behaviors I’d never accept from my own students, yet I break the same rules during these meetings. It’s not like they’re any consequences though. As if the dean is going to come by and confiscate my phone. I might just die laughing if she ever did.

  “Ooo. Look at him,” Mel says, sitting at the edge of her seat. “I think he’s the new history teacher. His ass looks nice in those fitted slacks. Umm. I just wanna bite it,” she clacks her teeth together and growls.

  “No way. I’m not gonna hook up with anyone from work. I already told you. It’s bad enough having one ex here. I don’t need a collection of them.” I take a swig of my 7-Eleven coffee. “He’s probably gay though. His pants are way too tight. Or maybe metrosexual. Do people still say that?” He is hot though. Very clean-cut and well dressed. He probably has a standing appointment with his barber to get his hair trimmed every week to keep crisp lines like those. I wouldn’t doubt he uses expensive gel too, and has more beauty products than me. Yes, I assume all this from the high quality of pressed creases in his dress pants, and the flawless hair line around a perfectly messy faux hawk.

  “I haven’t heard that term in a while. Metrosexual is just closet gay anyway.” Mel bites into her bagel, and says through a mouthful of dough, “What about him? He is one fine specimen.”

  I look to where she gestured in the front row. Uh-huh. He is fine. How did we get so lucky to be surrounded by good looking men? If things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong with Chase, I’m thinking this would be a promising profession to be in to land a hot guy.

  But this one is taken. “He’s married,” I remind her.

  “So. As if it matters to anyone else at work.” True. With all the hook-ups, set-ups, and infidelity on campus, the stories these walls could tell would make for fascinating reality TV. The Real Teachers of Carver High. Can you imagine? That would be stinking awesome. I’d actually watch reality TV for once. A bunch of teachers sitting around throwing back glasses of beer and wine, talking crap about their students who pissed them off today, or about what Johnny’s mom was wearing to the parent conference. Haha. It would be a blast.

  “Well it matters to me,” I tell her. “I’m no home wrecker.”

  “Maybe I’ll jump on him.”

  “You’re not jumping on anyone.”

  “I know,” she says through another mouthful of bagel, cream cheese smeared across part of her lip.

  “Hey, ladies,” Matty says. “Thanks for saving me a seat.” He squeezes by Mel, and then plops himself next to me. His knees almost hit the chair in front of us. These rows aren’t far enough apart for people his size. I’m sure he always has this problem. Me? Not so much. Sometimes my feet don’t reach the floor at the movies, depending on what theater we go to. I never have to worry about my knees hitting the seat in front of me.

  “Of course we did,” Mel says, winking at me. I dig my elbow in her side.

  I don’t say anything, but his scent makes me smile. Very earthy, like he just took a shower in the woods using man soap. I love that smell. If I wasn’t a girl, I’d use it myself.

  “Hey, Matt, did you bring lunch today?” Mel asks him, breaking the silence.

  “Nah, gotta hit the snack bar. Why?”

  “Perfect,” she squeals. “Shels brought me lunch today, but I brought leftovers and I have a parent conference anyway so I don’t want the food to go to waste. Why don’t you have lunch with her? Just go to her room right when the bell rings, okay.” Wow. She said that all in one breath. Does she need an oxygen mask now?

  Matty nudges me in the arm. “Does that work for you, Shel?”

  Well, what am I going to say? No. Don’t come. I don’t want to share with you. Of course it’s fine. He’s my friend and it’s been a long time since we’ve had a good chat. “Duh. It’s nothing big though. Don’t expect a gourmet meal or anything,” I murmur trying to make light of our pending meal.

  “I’ve been eating your cookin’ for five years. I know better than to expect gourmet.” He brushes his shoulder against mine, and I slap his knee.

  Mel pushes my elbow off the arm rest and I glance her way. She winks again and I read her lips, Foreplay. Rolling my eyes at her, I face forward and fake paying attention to the meeting.

  My cell buzzes and I glance at the text.

  Keep it up and ull b touchng his 3rd leg soon ;)

  Trying to shield my phone, I feel like the words are flashing like a neon sign over my head. I seriously hope Matty can’t see my screen. Thinking about her remark, I laugh inside. She's too funny.

  Guess we’re done trying to find my next bf in the crowd, I text her back.

  Don’t need 2. He’s sittin rite next 2 u.

  Going out with Matty would be so easy. Perfect actually. Until I get sick of him or he gets sick of me and then we’re doomed. I’ll be right back where I started but without one of my closest friends. Sure, I know he likes me. Maybe. It’s probably one of those things when you like someone just because you can’t have them, and when you finally get them, it sucks. The novelty wears off and neither person can run away fast enough. I don’t want that to happen. Matty means way too much to me to take the risk. I’d rather he be a friend forever than a quick roll in the hay for however long I can keep him interested.

  Stealing a glance at him, I notice he didn’t shave this morning. The golden brown stubble against his bronze skin catches the artificial lighting in her
e and it’s like it’s saying hello to me. Like, Hey I wanna rub this five o’clock shadow all over you. Wow. A twinge hits me between my thighs. Damn, where did those prickles darting all over my body come from? It’s like that with just a glimpse of facial hair. It’s a good thing I didn’t gaze into his gorgeous eyes. Crystal blue, and I’m talking ocean in Hawaii you can see right through to the sand, blue. He has the kind of eyes that speak to you. Just one look at them and you can always tell what kind of mood he’s in, which is usually a good one. This man is perpetually happy. Always smiling, showing the little creases around the corners of his eyes.

  “Shels,” a voice is calling me. “Shelly. Hello,” Matty says, putting his hand on top of mine. My girl parts contract with the touch of his warm palm on the back of my hand. “We still good for lunch?”

  I shake my head clear and realize everyone is getting up to leave. “Uh. Yeah. Sure.”

  “You want me to get us some drinks?” his baby blues question me.

  I glance down and his hand remains resting on mine. He notices too, and pulls away quickly like he touched something that burned his skin. “No, that’s okay. I have some.”

  He stands up and gestures to me to do the same. Mel is already waiting by the door. As we reach her, Matty puts his hand on my lower back and I gaze up at him. “I’ll see you at lunch,” he says, and I can’t keep my eyes off his mouth. It’s like I hear the words as his lips move in slo mo. He grins at me, one corner of his mouth turning upward. My legs quiver as he walks away, and begins talking to another teacher. Uh oh. I think I’m in trouble.

  Mel is watching me with a ridiculously giddy smile spread across her face.

  “It’s happening,” she sings.

  “I hate you,” I tell her and we walk to our classrooms in silence.

  The first four periods leading up to lunch seem like eons passing. Mountain ranges and miles of new ocean floor were probably created in the same amount of time it took for the lunch bell to ring. The Grapes of Wrath could’ve been written during these hours of maddening impatience. I’ve literally popped about two tins of Altoids trying to make sure my breath is fresh for my lunch time rendezvous. I know I’m making more out of this than it is. It’s just a casual lunch between two friends who just happen to work together. Nothing is happening. Matty isn’t interested in me like that. Well, maybe he is but he’d never act on it. He knows I’m damaged goods, and I’m not completely over Chase. And how many times have I said I don’t want to date anyone at work? How many? Like five thousand. So why am I freaking out over lunch? Relax, Shel. It’s going to be just fine. Just breathe.

  I inhale and exhale a large gasp of air just as Matty walks in the door. Thankfully, all my last minute stragglers have packed up their stuff and gone before he arrives. I can just picture the rumors spreading all over school. Ms. Gelson and Mr. Fuller were all hugged up during lunch. And that’s just the start of it. By the end of the day, I’d most likely be pregnant with twins and have some sort of fictitious sexually transmitted disease.

  But he’s here now, and we’re alone. No need to worry about the buzz just yet.

  As he steps toward me, smiling, I absorb his presence. His characteristic Levi jeans sit low on his waist, and if he were to turn around and model for me, I could stare at his perfectly round ass filling out his pants. A short-sleeved button-up shirt hugs his shoulders just enough to show off his muscles but not so much that he looks like he's wearing his little brother’s clothes. I don’t know what brand it is, but it’s stylish. He looks quite appetizing.

  It strikes me as odd that I’m checking him out in such a way. Why am I noticing these things about him now? In a way that makes my stomach flip-flop and my heart race. Just like I thought it was weird when I took note of his scent earlier. He’s always looked this good. He’s not doing anything different. So why now do I want to tear off his clothes and have my way with him on my desk?

  “Hey, I brought dessert.” He holds up two Rice Krispie Treats from the student store.

  I smile my big smile, hoping he can’t tell I was just violating him in my thoughts. “Yummy. Maybe we should do dessert first.” And I’m not talking about the Rice Krispies either. Oh, girl, you need to stop, I tell myself.

  “You got quite the spread going on here.” Chicken fajitas, rice, beans, fresh guacamole, salsa, chips, and tortillas. If this was a date, I’m pretty sure Matty would want to marry me after this feast. “Where did you pick this up?” Okay, so he knows me too well to believe I cooked all this.

  “You suck! Don’t believe I cooked, huh?” I tease him.

  He takes a plate and starts making himself some tacos. “Not a chance.” He chuckles.

  “Okay, you got me. That new Mexican restaurant by the mall. Good stuff. Dig in.”

  We make small talk in between bites of deliciousness.

  We reminisce about a conference we had to go to last year in Minnesota of all places. In the state of a million lakes, we couldn't find anything to do but go to the Mall of America every day. He convinced me to go on all the rides at the amusement park in the center of the mall. Mel refused to join in, instead she took pictures of us on each ride making wacky faces, most of which looked like I was ready to barf.

  I glance at him, I smile. He looks at me, and smiles.

  Feels like the best twenty minutes of my life.

  “The bell’s about to ring,” he says, standing and beginning to clear our plates.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it, my kids are working on a quiz as soon as the bell rings. You should get going.”

  “Well, thank you, Shel. “ He steps toward me. “Next time, it’s on me. But dinner.” I look up at him, trying not to study his mouth but I can’t help it. He licks his lips and the moisture left behind makes me want to lap it up with my tongue. He bends down getting closer, and the scent of his subtle cologne, combined with the spices of our meal, fills my senses and I’m whirling. Matty gently kisses my left cheek and his lips linger for a split second while he squeezes my hand. “Think of me when you have your dessert,” he says as he turns away and walks out of my classroom, leaving me stunned and speechless.

  It’s not until after school when I have time to relax and enjoy my marshmallow treat. Leaning back in my chair, I put my feet up on my desk and tear open the blue foil wrapper. Instantly, I can feel Matty’s lips on my cheek along with his warm breath. Think of me, he had said. It worked. I’m thinking of him alright. I feel like his scent has lingered in my room and if I could just bottle it up and take it home with me, I’d have some night. Smiling, I take a small nibble out of the corner of my dessert imagining what it would be like to sprinkle his throat with gentle pecks from my lips. The taste is sweet in my mouth and my girl parts tighten. Next, a small bite and as I chew I think about kissing his chest. Matty’s always looked amazing without a shirt on, chiseled pecs and hairless until you reach the little happy trail leading down into the place I’ve never been before, but suddenly want to be. Even though I was with Chase, I never wasted an opportunity to check Matty out at any pool parties for work. I find myself licking my fingers at the thought. If he only knew what he could do to me without even being in the room.

  “Must be some Rice Krispie treat. Are you sure there isn’t something other than marshmallow whip in there?” Bobbling the treat in my hands, I nearly fall out of my seat as I whip my feet off my desk and try to sit up. “I’ve never wanted to be a piece of puffed rice so much before in my whole life.”

  “Oh shit, Chase. Why the hell do you say crap like that?” Chomping on the last piece, I chew like a dog, irritated he ruined my moment of bliss.

  “Because I mean it, Shel Belle. In all our years together, I don’t think you ever looked like that when you thought about me.” He walks over and stands in front of me, so I’m eye level with his zipper and my dear old friend who I haven’t seen in quite some time. The idea is enough to make me forget about Matty, and images of Chase’s ass in my hands as I bring him into my mouth
take hold of me.

  Chase runs his hand through my hair and clutches the back of my neck. I stare up into his mocha eyes and they call to me. He misses me. He really does. My throat goes dry, but I have to say something. I can’t just sit here with his hand wrapped up in my hair and my mind inside his pants. “Chase, what are you doing here?” I whimper. I consider his flirtatious words again and my heart skips.

  “I need you, Shel Belle. I screwed up. I want you back.”

  How long have I waited to hear those words?

  Standing up to wrap my arms around his waist, I allow myself to rest my head in the place where it fits perfectly just below his chin. He drapes his arms around me and holds me tight. I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me and I tell myself to breathe. Slowly, I inhale through my nose and try to soak up everything that’s happening so I’ll never forget it.

  Something’s off though. His touch feels the same. His body feels the same in my arms. We still mesh together like two parts of a whole. Even with all these things that seem so familiar, something is definitely wrong.

  I tilt my head up and he bends down to nuzzle my neck. I brush my nose against his cool skin and inhale the man who has been mine for years. And that’s when I figure it out. His cologne. It’s different. It’s still the same sweet smell of Eternity, but mixed with another odor. A hint of jasmine. The scent I have pressed against my lips right now isn’t Chase’s. It’s her perfume. Or maybe her body lotion. Her shampoo, or body wash. A fragrance I never want to smell again. Not while the man I still love is telling me he wants me back.

  I muster up all the strength I have to push him away so I can look into his eyes for answers. For the truth.

  “Chase?”

  He looks down at me, rests his arms on my shoulders, and kisses the top of my head. I wish I could just let this go and enjoy the moment, but I can’t.

  “Chase?” I mutter.