“That reaction is wrong,” Taylor’s voice rang out. Once again, I turned to her, taking in the fierce expression on her face and the way she was gnawing on her lip. “It’s kind of a trick question. May I?” she asked, gesturing for my homework.
Some people were prideful about knowing it all, but that wasn’t me. I welcomed critique. I welcomed being wrong. It just meant that I had more to learn.
After I nodded in approval, she started scribbling on my paper. My eyes watched her lead pencil drag violently across my work. She explained why the reaction was wrong and helped me work through the compound before making a minor adjustment on another problem. “Thanks,” I said with a genuine smile. This was something I could bond with someone over.
“No problem. If you need a study partner, let me know.”
“Taylor just wants an excuse to go to your house. We’ve all heard that you live with Mr. Harris,” a guy at the far end of the table said. He had bright red hair that looked like it had to come out of a bottle, and thick reading glasses covered most of his face. I glanced over at Taylor, who blushed profusely.
“Shut up, Buick,” she growled.
“Hey, can’t blame her. Decker is pretty hot,” I replied with a shrug. I felt like the best way to combat the sad looks and rumors was to spearhead their narrative with a story of my own. It’s the only way to survive. “He’s got a six-pack under those perfectly tailored suits.”
I laughed to myself, then glanced around the table at everyone, noting the blush on Taylor’s cheeks, the cringe on Maximillian’s face, and the chuckle hidden behind Buick’s palm.
“Miss Stewart,” a gruff voice said at my back. I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I could feel its tone in my bones.
Decker fucking Harris. I couldn’t escape him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I spun around in my seat with a smile plastered on my face. “Hey there, Decker. Did you want to have lunch?” I offered. “Or did I leave something in your car again?”
His lips dipped into a scowl that I felt in my knees. Weak. He made me weak.
“Blakely, can we speak for a moment?” he asked before straightening his face into something that resembled professionalism as he took in the audience we had. I could feel their gossip hitting my ears like nails pounding their assumptions into the coffin of my social standing. Oddly, I didn’t care anymore.
“Sure,” I replied with a smile before squeezing Maximillian’s hand and standing up, abandoning my lunch on the table. I wasn’t hungry anyway. Talking about my dead mother dampened my appetite.
I followed behind Decker, watching his long legs take steady strides through the hallways where loitering students watched us. I winked at a couple staring unabashedly just to fuck with them. I felt like Rose, no longer mourning and hiding, owning up to my shit while calling people out. I wanted my new life to be the perfection I was denied growing up, but maybe newness could feel more like me instead.
Down, down, down we went, toward his classroom at the end of the hall, secluded from the world. Decker held the door open for me, and I followed him inside before sitting up on the desk and rocking my feet back and forth beneath me. “What’s up?” I asked.
“Why are you talking about my six-pack abs to students?” he asked.
“Why were you in the cafeteria? Why did you tell everyone about my mother?”
“Why are you still hung up on that?” he scrubbed his hands down his face while pacing the floors. He didn’t have to speak out loud for me to know that he felt this was a mistake—one colossal mistake. He shouldn’t have ever encouraged me to attend school here.
“I’m not. Actually, I’m kind of enjoying the openness. You think we should tell people we made out on a Ferris wheel, next?” I offered with a giggle, not expecting Decker to storm toward me with his hand up, placing a finger over my lips like a punishing kiss.
I mumbled against his skin as he hissed at me. “Do not say that!” As I rolled my eyes, he pulled away but stood near, positioned between my legs where nothing but plaid skirt and lace panties separated us.
Oh. And the school.
And Lance.
And our age difference.
And my jaded past, his asshole demeanor, and our complete and total incompatibility.
Guess there was more than inches separating us.
Our breath might have mixed in a cocktail tornado of air, but there might as well have been worlds between us. “I’m not stupid. I won’t tell people I dry humped your cock in public, Decker,” I whispered while watching his eyes grow heavy and hooded.
“Your mouth is going to be the death of me,” he whispered before dragging his thumb across my bottom lip. My tongue snaked out to taste it. Coffee. He tasted like coffee.
“What a way to go, am I right?” I replied with a shrug before pulling away, resting my hands on the desk and pushing my chest out while tilting my head to the side to observe him.
“I was headed to the cafeteria to let you know that Lance got called to a meeting with the hotel owners in Louisiana. He won’t be home tonight.”
My heart raced. The implications of secrecy were painting heat along my thighs. But I kept my breathing steady. “Okay. And?” I asked, choking on my lust like the traitorous bastard it was.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
That’s what I had told him right? This had to be nothing.
Something was creeping up on me.
“I’m going to be working late to grade papers,” he rushed out. It sounded eerily like an excuse. Pussy. I stared deeply into his dark eyes, then trailed lower to take in the maroon tie wrapped haphazardly around his neck and the strain of his jacket. There was a single bead of sweat collected on his upper lip that I wanted to taste.
“Are you avoiding me, Decker Harris?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” Simple. Truthful. To the point. I could appreciate his honesty. It’s what we should do, right? Avoid one another and pretend the fireworks sparking between us wouldn’t catch the lawn on fire.
I got off the desk and ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the door of his classroom, my hand hitting the handle as the bell rang. “See you tonight, Mr. Harris,” I replied with a grin. My voice was breathy as I looked at him over my shoulder. Stealing one last look at his broody face, I then headed out into the hallway, not sure why I was tempting something that seemed impossible and inevitable all at once.
I could have sworn I heard his whisper, see you tonight, even though I’d left him back in his classroom.
I was losing my motherfucking mind.
15
Decker
I was making my favorite dish, pulling out all the stops with homemade pasta and spaghetti sauce an Italian ex taught me during a summer in New York. I didn’t pull out the paper plates, either. I had to remind myself not to open a bottle of wine because my…dinner companion…was underaged.
I did light a candle though.
I was insane. Fucking insane.
She had a short shift at Huck-a-poos after school, and for all I knew, she’d already eaten. But still I stood there, sweating over a pot of my signature date night dish. I’d made this countless times for countless women. It was the one thing I’d perfected and used to impress people.