Crushed

by Brigid McMahon

  "Taryyynnnn!" She's already drunk and the party's just started. I have this insane desire to join her. Maybe if I get wasted I won't remember how crappy my night is going.

  "Hey, Pam." I drain my cup and someone shoves a can of beer into my other hand. How convenient! I pop the top and take a swallow.

  "So, what is happening with you and Patrick? And Ryan?" Pam grabs my beer and takes a drink before I snatch it back.

  "Nothing. Patrick and I are just the same as always. And Ryan is just a friend." Just a friend. I feel sad. Beer is also my friend; I take another drink.

  "You should totally let Patrick fuck you tonight," Pam hiccups. "I'm going to have sex with Kyle. We're all going to have sex tonight. Everyone." She laughs hysterically and stumbles away.

  My cell chimes and I look down to see if it's a text from Ryan. It's not. It's just my mom telling me she and Ethan won't be home till the early morning hours.

  I sigh and wander around. Patrick and Jason are holding Kyle upside down while he drinks beer through a long tube. Everyone else is having a good time and I'm just...here with my beer.

  I cradle the can to my chest and wish I had someone to snuggle with. What's wrong with me? Why is Patrick the only guy that wants to be with me? Why can't it be Ryan?

  "Dance?"

  I look up at one of the random basketball players. I think his name is Tim, or Tom, or something. Anyway, he's cute and not so tall that I risk whiplash looking up at him.

  "Sure." I give him a little smile and ditch my beer, following him over to where everyone is dancing to techno music.

  Fuck it. I'm here, I'm sad, I might as well enjoy myself. I put my arms around Tim/Tom's waist and we start to sway to the music. When he bends down to nuzzle my neck, I don't stop him. I'm feeling a little buzzed from the two beers and I just don't care anymore. I don't care about anything.

  ◆◆◆

  I'm drunk. I'm really, really, really, really drunk. I know this, but I don't care. Because suddenly it feels awesome to not give a shit. Patrick is here and there, sometimes he's by me and kissing me and other times he's running around yelling about football and wrestling and I'm just here, on a couch with my beer. I think this is like my seventh or eighth can? I've lost count. I'm just really happy right now. Happy and drunk. What a way to be!

  The basketball player, who's name turns out to be Trey, which is nothing like Tim or Tom, is sitting next to me. Occasionally he tries to make out but mostly he just sits there, trying to make conversation.

  "So, uh, you going to prom with Patrick?" he asks.

  "Yep. He's my boyfriend." When I hear myself say it out loud, I start to laugh. And I can't stop laughing, I laugh so hard I spill my beer, then my laughter turns to tears and I feel so horribly bad again. Patrick is my boyfriend and I don't want him to be. I want Ryan! "I'm going to prom with Patrick!" I wail.

  Trey jumps off the couch. "Yeah, okay, I'm gonna leave before you puke on me."

  I watch him hurry away. "Sure, leave. Only Patrick wants me. Because I'm such a loser." I sniffle and hug my beer some more.

  Suddenly there's a happy commotion near the stairs and I hear a bunch of cheering and shouting. Holy crap, Mr. Hayes has come to Jason's party! I want to get up and see why he's here but I am pretty sure if I get to my feet I'm going to pass out.

  "Mr. Hayes, I freakin' love you man!" Jason is hugging him.

  Mr. Hayes is laughing and untangles himself from Jason's arms.

  "Looks like a rockin' party, dudes!"

  I wince. Yikes. Old people should not try to talk cool. It's cringey. But he looks really fine, Mr. Hayes does. He's wearing torn jeans and a long sleeved, thin grey sweatshirt. His sleeves are rolled up and he has leather cord bracelets on both wrists. Oh, my Jesus. He's so freaking cute. He needs to come and talk to me. He really does. I just need to get his attention.

  I wave my hand weakly in the air. If the room would stop spinning this would be easier.

  "Mr. Hayes..." I call out but there's too much noise and commotion surrounding him. He's talking to Jason, his hand on his shoulder, his face concerned. Oh wow, I hope he's not going to call the cops.

  "Misserrr Hayessssss!!" I raise my voice and I think I'm shouting, but I'm not sure. "Come here...come sssit aside me..." Why is my tongue so large? I stick it out and try to see if it has indeed gotten bigger but I go all cross eyed.

  Mr. Hayes has heard me and he comes over and sits beside me on the couch.

  "Wow, Taryn, you, uh...seem to be a little drunk there."

  I blow a laugh out, my lips sputtering. "Yes, you are correct!" I nudge his arm with my elbow and try to focus on his gorgeous face. "Why are you here? Are you bustin' us?"

  He smiles a little and leans his forearms on his knees. "No, I'm not. I heard about the party and just wanted to come by and make sure you guys were alright." He grimaces, looking around the room at the drunken debauchery which surrounds us. "Good thing I did, I think."

  I'm sitting with my legs crossed, which is a little daring in a dress this short, but I'm beyond caring. Besides, it's nice how naughty it feels to have Mr. Hayes so close to my slightly exposed panties. I lean against him and put my head on his shoulder.

  "You know what, Misser Hayes?" Am I slurring my words? I'm pretty sure I am. The thought strikes me as really funny and I start giggling. "You are like, my fav..or..ite...teacher. 'Cuz you're like, soooo cute!" I nuzzle my cheek into his sweat shirt and he shifts slightly away from me.

  "Taryn, I think it's time for you to go home. Can you stand?"

  "On my feet?" I look at the floor blankly.

  He grins. "Yes, your feet. Not your head."

  I laugh and slowly untangle my legs. "You're so funny. I can stand on my head too though. And my hands. Isn't that cool?"

  Mr. Hayes stands up and reaches down to pull me to my feet. "That is cool. You're very talented." He puts an arm around me and steers me towards the door. "I'll give you a ride home then I'll come back here and see about shutting this shindig down before it gets any worse."

  "Wait, wait." Patrick suddenly blocks our way, swaying on his feet. "That's my girl, man. Are you stealing my girl, dude?"

  "I'm just seeing to it she gets home safely, Patrick. Why don't you take a seat over there on the couch and I'll be back in just a bit." Mr. Hayes nods towards the seat we just vacated.

  The stairs seem to be moving as we slowly climb up to the main level. I lean heavily on Mr. Hayes, but he holds me with little effort and steers me through the house and out to the street where he helps me into the front passenger seat.

  I'm not quite sure how we get to my house or if I give him directions or what happens but suddenly, we're in my driveway and Mr. Hayes is leaning across me, unbuckling my seat belt.

  "Boy, Taryn, do you think you can get in on your own or should I help you?"

  Mr. Hayes, in my house. I try to answer him but it feels like my mouth is full of cotton. The best I can manage is to gesture at the house and moan incoherently.

  He sighs. "Yeah, okay." Then he's on my side of the car, opening the door and I feel strong arms lifting me up.

  Holy Mother of Pearl! He's carrying me inside! I'm too drunk to truly enjoy it though, which really sucks. My head feels like stone and I let it fall heavily to his chest, oh he smells so good. I want to smell every inch of him.

  "I have to set you down, Taryn, so you can get your keys." He leans me against the house and hands me my purse. "Keys?"

  "Um, yesshh...keys..." I look at him helplessly.

  "Right." He takes my purse and finds my keys and quickly unlocks the door. "Are your parents home?"

  I shake my head and the earth spins as I start to go down.

  "Whoa, I got ya." Mr. Hayes picks me up again and I push my face into his neck, clinging to him.

  "You don't have to hold on so tight, Taryn," he murmurs, going inside and shutting the door behind him with his foot. "I haven't dropped a lady yet."

  A lady? He thinks I'm a lady?! Oh, God, w
hy do I have to feel so pukey when I want to just kiss him like crazy? I should be thinking of Ryan, right? Ryan, who's Ryan?

  "Wow, this place is awesome." Mr. Hayes looks around the foyer then carries me into the family room and gently lowers me to the couch. "Just lie there for a minute, Taryn. I'm going to go get you some water...and a bucket."

  He disappears and I lay on the couch trying to come to terms with the fact that my sexy as hell teacher is wandering my house trying to find the kitchen.

  After a few minutes he comes back with a glass of water and one of the buckets from the pantry. He puts his hand behind my neck and gently coaxes me to sit up a little.

  "Alright, drink this down, Taryn. I know you don't want to, but trust me, it's the best thing you can do right now."

  I obediently drink most of the water then he grabs a throw pillow and puts it behind my head and covers me with a blanket from the back of the couch.

  "If you're gonna spew -" He holds up the bucket. "Do it in here. Not sure when your parents will be home, hope you won't be in too much trouble." He perches on the edge of the couch and our thighs touch through the blanket.

  I can't stop staring at his face. I want him to kiss me. I want him to touch me. I know it's soooo wrong but maybe that's why I want it so much. I raise my hand slightly and lay it in his lap.

  He takes my hand and holds it for a minute, then puts it back in my own lap. He's smiling, but his eyes are serious.

  "Look, I don't want to do something really uncool like lecture you about drinking. But I really hope you are a little more careful next time, Taryn, okay? This could have ended really badly for you. At a party, incapacitated, surrounded by drunk horny teen boys." Mr. Hayes raises an eyebrow me. "Things could have gotten dicey. It's a good thing I was there."

  I moan and put my hand to my eyes. I hope I don't hurl. I'd never be able to face him again!

  Mr. Hayes stands up and motions to the coffee table. "I put the Ibuprofen right next to your glass. Try to take a couple soon. You're gonna be hurtin' in the morning. I hate to leave you, but I really need to get back to Jason's and check on the others. Get some sleep if you can."

  Then he leans down and smooths the hair back from my head and gently presses his lips to my forehead.

  Ohhhhh... he has the softest lips! I knew he would! Somehow a kiss on the forehead seems so much hotter than one on my lips.

  I close my eyes and then he's gone. I wonder if he was ever even there?

  Chapter Five

  I wake up with a head ache. And that is putting it mildly. I feel like my brain is going to burst from my eyeballs into a bloody mass of goo. That thought makes me want to hurl but thankfully it passes. I lie still on the couch and moan, putting my hand over my eyes. What happened last night? Did Mr. Hayes really carry me into my house and kiss my forehead? Oh my God! I'm hot for my teacher! I'm going to hell!

  "How you feeling?"

  Mom is beside me, gently stroking my hair.

  "Ugghhhh..." Is that a word?

  She laughs softly and sits down in the easy chair next to the couch.

  "Well, it was quite a shock to come home last night and find my daughter throwing up in a bucket. Not really a sight a parent wants to see."

  I lower my hand and give her a quick look. She's smiling though, so I don't think she's completely pissed.

  "I'm sorry, Mom." There's a really gross sour taste in my mouth. The bucket beside me is empty and clean, which is good. I don't think I could have handled seeing what came up during the night.

  "Well, all's well that ends well. I'm just glad you made it home safe and sound. Did someone bring you home? Patrick?"

  I struggle to sit up a little and wince. There's a sledgehammer in my head.

  "I think my English teacher brought me home."

  Mom's eyebrows shoot up. "What? There was a teacher at this party?!"

  "He just came to check on everyone, he's really nice that way. He wasn't partying with us or anything."

  "Thank God for that." Mom still looks a little shocked. "I hate to leave you, Taryn, but I have two open houses today. I should be home by four. Will you be alright?"

  "I'll be fine, Mom." It's not like I'm not used to taking care of myself after all. I practically live here alone most of the time.

  Mom stands and strokes my head again.

  "You have my cell number, so you can text me anytime. I've brought you some orange juice, it might help. Feel better, darling."

  After Mom leaves, I just sit there for a bit and make myself drink a little juice. I think about watching Netflix but the effort of reaching for the remote seems like too much work

  My phone chimes and I've got a text. Groaning, I grab my phone and open the text. I sit up, ignoring my whirling head. It's from Mr. Hayes!

  "Hey, Taryn! Just checking to see if you're still alive. I hope you aren't feeling too bad. Remember to drink plenty of water, take some more Ibuprofen and make yourself eat some breakfast. I promise it works. - yes, I speak from experience! Take it easy, sweetie!"

  It's signed "Michael" not Mr. Hayes. Michael. Like an angel from Heaven.

  I lean against the back of the couch and say his name out loud.

  "Michael." And he called me 'sweetie'!

  Before I can send a reply my phone chimes again. Another text. But it's not Michael this time, it's Ryan.

  I frown. Ryan. Hmmm. Damn, I am lusting after Michael but I am also wanting Ryan. This is complicated. I look down at Ryan's text.

  "Awesome day today! Lots of sun and warm temps. Wanna play some tennis? Or frisbee? We can do Ultimate!"

  The last thing I want to do right now is sports. But I hesitate before responding, remembering Ryan's irritation about the party. I tap out a response.

  "Can't. I'm not feeling very well." I add a sad face and hit send.

  Now for Michael. What does one text to their super-hot teacher when they've just called you "sweetie"? Something like, 'I love you too, hot stuff!'? Probably not. Play it cool, Taryn, play it cool.

  I write: "Feeling kind of lousy, thank you so much for bringing me home last night." I pause, then either bravely or stupidly, I put, 'Love, Taryn'.

  As soon as I send it my stomach lurches, and not from the alcohol. I shouldn't have said 'love'. Oh God, what will he think about that????

  Ding! Another text. Ryan again.

  "Bummer! Party I'm guessing. Okay, well maybe you'll feel better later and I can come over and keep you company."

  I smile. Dear, sweet Ryan. I quickly send another text, telling him I'd love it if he comes over later. And I mean it. Mr. Hayes – Michael - is sexy as hell but Ryan is the one I actually have a chance with. The one I've been crushing on for so long.

  There's no response text from Michael, which bums me out. But what did I expect? The guy isn't going to go around texting mushy love stuff to his students after all. He could get in serious trouble.

  Pushing that disturbing thought aside, I force myself up from the couch to go make some breakfast.

  ◆◆◆

  A bit later I don't feel as horrible and decide to go lay out. That turns out to be a stupid idea because I've underestimated the effect of the sun's rays on my tender eyes, even with my shades on. I put a towel over my head and lay on my stomach and that makes it a little bit better.

  I must have dozed off because suddenly I hear whistling and jerk up, startled. It's Manny, there to clean the pool. For Christ sake, can't he come any other day but Sunday??

  He gives me a curt nod and gets on with his work, mixing chemicals.

  I turn around and sit up, shading my already shaded eyes with my hand. Manny looks pretty hot today, I must admit. He's wearing another tank, a light blue one this time and his jean cut off shorts. For the first time I notice he has a tattoo on one bicep, some writing, but I can't tell what it says.

  He catches me staring and smirks at me. "Enjoying the view?"

  I snort. "As if!" I get up gingerly from my chair and take my towel over t
o the patio table, grateful for the shade from the umbrella. Sitting down I scroll my phone, or pretend to anyway. I really want to know what Manny's tattoo says.

  Manny goes back to whistling and finishes mixing the chemicals. He's doing various tests with little bottles and tubes before adding them to the pool. I watch him for a bit longer and then get up and wander over to where he's crouching by the pool. He looks up, his brow slightly furrowed.

  "Can I help you?"

  "No." Okay this is weird. I feel like flirting with Manny. I don't know why really. I don't like Manny, he's a jerk who never has anything nice to say to me. But still...ugh, am I seriously crushing on Manny now too? Cripes! I need therapy!

  "So." He stands up, looking me up and down. "Nice party at Jason's last night, huh? I see you got plastered."

  I flush, grateful that my shades are hiding my eyes. "I didn't see you. And I didn't get that plastered!"

  He laughs. "Seriously? You didn't get that plastered? Then you don't need these." He reaches up and slides the sunglasses from my face before I can stop him.

  The light from the sun pierces my eyes and I yell and put my hands to my face while Manny laughs.

  "Give them back!" I snatch the glasses back and push them on.

  "That's what I thought." He keeps chuckling and turns to get back to work.

  "Mi Vida Loca." I read the tattoo aloud. "My Crazy Life."

  He pauses, looking back at me, then down at his tattoo. "Yeah. Got it a couple years ago. My old man was pissed."

  "I like it," I tell him. "I wish I could get a tattoo. Mom would never let me though."

  "You always do what your mom says?" Manny raises one eyebrow at me, his mouth curled slightly at the sides.

  I flush. Manny is better at flirting than I am. "Not always."

  His eyes slide from my face and settle on my chest, my scar.

  "What's that from?"

  I cover my surgery scar with my hand. "I had heart surgery when I was five." I'm embarrassed and look away from Manny's curious eyes.

  "Wow, heart surgery. I didn't know that."

  "Well it's not something I generally share." I snap.