About That...: A Small Town Romantic Comedy

by Sylvie Stewart

  But there was no time to reflect when a condom appeared in Cal’s hand and I swiped it, wanting to apply it myself and take a better look at what he was packing. I got about halfway through with the job, getting distracted at the feel of him in my hand, when Cal took over, a look of near torture on his face. Oops. I kissed him again, pulling him over me and then he was pressing his cock into me, first with short careful strokes and then with more authority as I stretched to accommodate him. The feel of him hot and hard inside me was heaven, and he somehow knew exactly what my body craved as he continued stroking in and out of me.

  I ran my tongue across his lower lip and then took it between my teeth, resisting the temptation to bite down with the force of my growing arousal. Instead, I released it and we breathed each other’s air, our mouths not quite kissing but lips poised barely apart while Cal’s thrusts gained strength.

  “Christ, Sofia. You feel so damn good.” His voice was ragged and tight. My thighs instinctively squeezed in response, drawing another groan from him and a slight change in angle.

  That was all it took and I was coming apart around him, muscles spasming and voice crying out again. Cal’s groans turned to grunts of exertion as he drove into me, his release following shortly after. I didn’t even care that his big bod was practically crushing me. I was too busy panting in awe at what we’d just accomplished together. Go, us!

  Sleep seemed an unnecessary nuisance in the face of all the smoking sex available to us. So Cal and I paid no attention to the clock and spent the night alternately murmuring partial conversations, lightly dozing, and engaging in more of the good stuff. Sunlight streamed through the mostly-drawn curtains before we both dropped off into a dead sleep, exhaustion having won out in the end. It was no surprise when half of Saturday disappeared.

  But all that sex meant we’d awoken in the early afternoon with growling stomachs demanding sustenance. So we’d changed into swimsuits and thrown some clothes over them to grab a bite at a beach café. Already privy to my close, personal relationship with food, Cal was more amused than horrified as he watched me devour my burger, fries, milkshake, and side order of fried calamari. I figured we’d more than earned it.

  We’d lounged on the beach in the sun-worn wood chairs after that, talking about nothing and having a few drinks until I’d found Cal sweeping my body with that predatory look again. Needless to say, the chairs were abandoned shortly thereafter.

  Chapter 7

  Sunday was bittersweet. Waking up in Cal’s arms brought an immediate dopey grin to my lips. In one short weekend, it had become natural to wind my fingers through his while walking and drop casual kisses on his lips for no particular reason. How was I supposed to return to normal life where we’d need to watch our steps and always be conscious of our surroundings? It sounded awful.

  There had to be a way around it. Was it worth the risk and sneaking around? I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to that. Why did this have to be so complicated? I was an elementary-school teacher, not a CIA agent consorting with a foreign spy. Ugh. But we hadn’t finished our weekend getaway, so I forced my brain to return to living in the moment.

  Cal stretched an arm upward, a yawn splitting his face. I kissed his bare chest as the muscles there tightened with his movements. “Good morning.”

  “That it is,” he finally answered, stroking lazy fingers down my arm. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

  I smiled against his skin. The feeling was entirely mutual. While our first night together had been an hours-long sexual gymnastics extravaganza, the previous night had been shorter. And sweeter. My chest felt full of… something when I thought back to it. Cal’s eyes never releasing mine as he stroked in and out of me. The quiet murmuring of endearments. The way more than just my muscles constricted when I came around him. We fell asleep right after, not wanting to separate for even the time it would take to turn out the lights.

  Cal kissed my temple and lifted up on an elbow to take a tired look around. “Shit. Checkout is in twenty minutes.”

  “What?!” My head snapped up, and sure enough, the clock read 9:40. I wanted to whine like one of my students – NO FAIR! I don’t wanna! But, along with the bonus of hot sex, being an adult required a tad more self-control. I left it at just a pronounced frown as my head hit the pillow again.

  Cal chuckled at the sight of me. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you had a good time this weekend.”

  I finally laughed, taking in his dimples and sleep-mussed golden hair. God, he was so good looking. “You mean, you saw through all my coy behavior the last two days? Wow, you’re good.”

  He kissed my mouth to shut off my sass button. That led to some more kissing and fondling until housekeeping knocked on our door and we eventually paid a late checkout fee. Totally worth it.

  I needed a sign.

  That’s what it boiled down to, I decided during my silent musings on our way back to Sunview and as I made myself a salad at my apartment that night. My mother was a big believer in signs. She always told us God would let us know what to do when we found ourselves in a difficult spot. In my experience, God was usually a terrible communicator, but Mamá always said I just wasn’t listening closely enough.

  When it came to my situation with Cal, I was more alert than a ten-man swat team. Nothing had been resolved between us before we parted ways at my apartment that afternoon. We shared a lingering kiss, and his eyes all but mesmerized me as we smiled like idiots at each other and exchanged unhurried goodbyes. I think we were each waiting for the other one to bring it up, neither of us wanting to spoil the mood. But that was okay. I could use a little separation to think clearly. There was no rational brainpower available when he was touching me or even looking at me. Cal was pretty good at giving me his own signs, and my body was even better at communicating its opinions loud and clear.

  So I waited for a sign to appear as I finished preparing my salad and sat on my couch to flip on the TV. My phone rang, and I dropped both the remote and my fork. Then I sighed and pressed accept.

  “Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” It was Sam. I could perfectly envision his furrowed brow and the bare patch he was undoubtedly blazing on his carpet.

  “I’m sorry, who is this?” I retrieved the remote and fork and set everything on my coffee table while I leaned back into the couch and prepared for whatever lecture my brother was about to deliver.

  “Adorable. Now, answer my question. I’ve been worried.”

  That softened me a little. “I was at the beach. The reception was spotty,” I lied.

  “I knew it!” The sound of his hand smacking—and probably breaking—something echoed over the line.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You went away with Cal Evans!”

  My mouth gaped. How in the hell? “What makes you say that?”

  “Because his team was playing on the field next to ours yesterday and one of his teammates was bitching about him blowing them off to take some girl to the beach.”

  Shit. Sam was going to make an excellent cop.

  “So.” My brilliance was such that I even astounded myself.

  “So,” he began, “you just met this guy. It’s one thing for him to hit on you, but… just… NO!” My poor brother would think I was a virgin until I actually went so far as to birth a child. And, even then, he’d probably declare it immaculate conception. “And he’s divorced!” Sam hollered.

  I actually laughed out loud at that. “Sorry, Mamá. I’ll be sure to book an extra long session with Father John next Sunday. Oh, and while I have you on the phone, I should probably tell you I used the Lord’s name in vain just now in my head when I was calling you a goddamn pain in my ass!”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “On the contrary, it’s hilarious.” I threw my legs up on the coffee table and crossed one over the other. “Two questions, Sam. Do you really think I’m still a virgin?” It sounded like someone was strangling him on the ot
her end of the line. “And, you do know our own brother is divorced, right?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Oh, this should be good.”

  “Christina left him.”

  “So? What do you even know about Cal’s divorce?” Honestly, I was surprised Sam hadn’t used Cal being a dad as part of his argument so far. Not that I was going to bring it up. Cross one bridge at a time and all that.

  “That’s not the point!”

  My chin sank into my chest this time as I guffawed, not holding back at all. “Is this really the only reason you called?”

  “I think I’m perfectly justified in calling my little sister to protect her from her own choices.”

  “Oh my God.” I was about ready to pee my pants by this point. “Do you need me to buy you a dog?”

  “Laugh all you want, but you’ll thank me when I save you from a broken heart.”

  My laughter sputtered to a halt. I took a breath while silence hung in the air.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Sam.”

  I heard a frustrated huff. “I’m sorry. Look, I shouldn’t have said it that way.” A sigh followed. “You just tend to jump in headfirst.” Another sigh. “You met this guy like, a week ago.”

  I refrained from telling my brother about how carefully I’d been trying to handle this situation. I wasn’t the same impulsive teenager he’d looked out for years back. Sure, I hadn’t known Cal for long, but we had a connection—I was sure of it. And he was one to talk. Mister college football man around campus. Or whatever. I didn’t really want to know.

  His voice quieted. “And I’m sorry I said the thing about him being divorced. I was reaching.”

  I made a noncommittal grumbling noise, not ready to let him off the hook.

  “Don’t tell Eddie I said that, okay. I’m an idiot.”

  Well, at least we could agree on something. “Sam, what am I going to do with you?”

  He made a sound like a balloon releasing all its air. “I just want you to have the best of everything, Sof.” Now he’d gone and done it. The jackass was forgiven.

  “I know. And I appreciate the sentiment. Truly. Just, maybe you can try to tone it down a bit.”

  This time, the noncommittal grumbling came from his end.

  The only sign I’d gotten from that phone call was to be way better at sneaking around next time.

  Contrary to my expectations, I slept like a baby that night and was up and ready for work the next morning with time to spare. I’d chosen to wear a casual cotton dress that always put me in a good mood, and I strode down the hall to the teachers’ lounge, bidding good morning to a few teachers and staff on my way. Three heads spun when I entered the room, each with wide, expectant eyes. Upon registering my face, Shelly and the other two teachers relaxed their expressions. A little kick of satisfaction bolstered me as I recalled both names of the other women. Bethany Leachy and Gretchen Roth taught fourth grade one hallway over from Shelly and me.

  Shelly beckoned me over with urgent gestures. I set down my lunch bag and purse and hurried to the trio. “What’s going on?”

  “Amy got busted by the wife!” Bethany spilled in a hushed voice, the thrill of being the bearer of hot gossip clear in her eyes. Unfortunately, it was wasted on me.

  I shook my head. “Amy who?” This was the problem working at a new job. There was a lot of catch-up to be played.

  Shelly’s mouth formed a perfect O. “You probably don’t know. I keep forgetting you just started here.” When she saw my head shake, she didn’t hesitate to fill me in. “It’s the worst-kept secret at Sunview. Amy West—dark hair, teaches fifth grade?” She waited for some acknowledgment from me. I pictured the teacher from the seat next to mine at the staff meeting. Amy West. That was her name. I nodded to Shelly and all three women leaned in closer to me. Good lord.

  Gretchen cut in, taking over for Shelly. “Amy has been banging Jordan and Janey York’s dad since last school year. Jordan was in her class so that was how she and the guy met. Nobody knew how or if they should tell his wife, but that problem’s been solved. She found out this weekend and the shit hit the fan.”

  I let that sink in. Holy crap. The KitKat and the earring on the first day of school! Janey’s philandering father… it had been a teacher at our school!

  “The wife started making calls. I heard she was on fire! She’s already planning the divorce and making sure her husband and Amy pay. Amy handed in her resignation this morning. Bart’s practically singing, he’s so relieved. His hands were completely tied, but he wanted her gone.”

  The announcement at the meeting—it had been about Amy all along. She’d been sleeping with a married dad of one of her students. God, how awful. Those poor little girls. I hated to think what the near future held for Janey and her mom and sister. Ugh.

  It didn’t occur to me until an hour later to think how this situation might reflect on my relationship with Cal. On the one hand, we weren’t doing anything that would harm anybody else. Apart from the risks any single parent takes by dating someone new, that is. On the other hand, it still didn’t make dating Cal a smart thing to do. I mean, at least he wasn’t married, but I’d guess the administration would be overly sensitive on the matter in the wake of the whole Amy thing.

  Could this be the sign I was waiting for? Everything in me kind of hoped not—because it if was, I didn’t like the way it was pointing.

  Whispering continued as the day went on. Luckily, none of the kids seemed privy to anything being amiss. A substitute had been called in for Amy, and, to no one’s surprise, Janey was absent. Her sister had moved on to middle school if she’d been in fifth last year. I hoped Janey could remain oblivious to circumstances as long as humanly possible. She had heartache on her horizon, for sure. It was unclear yet if she’d be back or if the girls’ mother would move them. If I were the wronged party, I don’t know that I could come back to all the knowing glances and whispers. People sucked sometimes.

  I pushed the thoughts aside as I wove around desks, stopping to check on my students’ progress. We were working on a project with adjectives, each child coming up with the best words to describe a loved one of their choice. I’d made a list on the board of descriptive words the kids had volunteered at the beginning of class. Now they were drawing pictures of their people or pets and copying the appropriate words down on their papers.

  If parents only knew the things their kids picked up. One girl drew a picture of her mother and chose the words, “pretty, smart, lazy, and fuzzy,” citing her mother’s own declaration to her father the previous weekend that she’d been too lazy to shave her legs. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh and moved on to Phoebe’s picture.

  My heart warmed without my permission when I saw a drawing of a tall man with dark blonde hair holding a little red-headed girl’s hand. Phoebe had drawn herself in a bright yellow dress made of triangles while Cal was portrayed wearing what looked like a big rectangle of mud-colored clothing.

  “Is that your dad?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Personally, I’d have dressed him in blue since it looked so good on him, but it wasn’t like I could volunteer that info.

  Phoebe nodded her head, tongue caught between her teeth as she concentrated on spelling out the word “strong.” When she finished, she pointed to the figure of Cal. “I decided to draw him in his tired clothes.”

  That time, I did laugh. “He has tired clothes? Does he nap a lot?” I’d have something to tease Cal about the next time we talked—which would hopefully be that night.

  But Phoebe shook her head sharply. “No. He doesn’t nap at all. He’s too busy working. He works all the time.” The poor girl’s eyes began to fill with tears and I felt something shift deep in my gut.

  I put a soothing hand on her back. “It’s okay, sweetie. Your daddy works hard, but I promise he’d always rather be hanging out with you. Work is something adults have to do, though.” And divorce makes it harder, I didn’t add.

  Despite my be
st efforts, a tear escaped and coursed down Phoebe’s little freckled cheek. “He’s never home. I don’t ever get to see him.” More tears followed so I got to my knees and drew her into a hug. “My mommy cries too. She doesn’t know I hear her.”

  I felt the blood drain from my face. Lisa Evans cried over Cal? But they’d been divorced for four years. Did Cal know this? Had the divorce been his idea and Lisa had been carrying a torch for him ever since? It sounded plausible enough to me. Cal was exactly the kind of guy a woman would pine over. Shit. My hand mindlessly stroked Phoebe’s back as I made soothing noises into her hair.

  “I just want my daddy to come home!” the poor girl wailed.

  I wanted to cry too. I’d finally gotten my sign.

  And I finally understood the reason a teacher shouldn’t date a student’s parent. It wasn’t about the SAT answer key or about immoral cheating behavior. It was about putting the child first, above all else—even your own heart.

  Chapter 8

  I turned my phone off before even looking at it after work. The temptation to pick up when and if Cal called would be too much. The man had the power to render me stupid with his hot bod, melty eyes, and sweet smile that felt like it had been created just for me. Remaining focused and strong during the talk we needed to have would require intense preparation.

  Of course, the thought had occurred to me that Phoebe was all of six years old, an age where exaggeration and blatant lying were as common as nose-picking and glitter. But she couldn’t fake her feelings. The girl was upset and feeling vulnerable, and no matter the exact accuracy of her depiction of Cal’s schedule or Lisa’s feelings, her emotions were very real. That was the important part.

  I thought back to my questions about how often Cal had Phoebe and his vague explanations about Lisa’s shift work. Then my mind crept along to Cal’s skirting the topic of his daughter most of our weekend. At the time, I’d chalked it up to thoughtfulness, but what if it were more? I tried to dismiss that thought because I couldn’t picture Cal purposely ignoring his own flesh and blood, but it still niggled. Maybe he was just completely oblivious? If that were the case, he needed to be clued in—and fast.