After Tonight Page 14

  And I’m not sure if it’s his voice that breaks the spell or my own conscience, but I’m suddenly pushing hard, forcing him back away from me. Even after he’s let me go and stepped away, I keep pushing, like I need to get him as far as possible. Like I don’t trust myself to be as close to each other as we are.

  “What the hell was that?” I sputter, moving away from the corner of the room. “Why did you—how could you—Jesus, I can’t even form a coherent thought.”

  “That good, huh?” He smirks.

  I glare at his smug grin.

  “No. It wasn’t ‘that good.’ It was that inappropriate, maybe. That wrong, for sure. That unbelievable, that ridiculous that—”

  “Okay, okay.” He holds up both hands. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

  “No, you don’t get it. That’s the whole point.” Furiously, I stomp over to my desk. “You think that you can just do what you want, and maybe you can. But I can’t. This is my life. My life. Don’t you get that?”

  “Yeah, Hyacinth. I get that. Trust me.”

  He’s gone a little quiet, but he looks anything but repentant. In fact, now he just looks pissed.

  “You may not think I ‘get’ your life, but here’s one thing I get for sure—you have absolutely no idea what you want.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but no sound comes out. Instead, I say nothing. Instead, I watch him walk away from me and out of my classroom. It isn’t until the door shuts behind him that I whisper aloud to the silent room.

  “I want you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Power of Distraction

  Four more weeks. Four more weeks. Four more weeks.

  This is my new mantra. I just have to get through the next month. Yesterday afternoon, I met with Caroline for my second evaluation and she assured me that everyone was pleased with my performance.

  “You’re going to be a great teacher, Hyacinth,” she’d said, patting my hand. “You just need to believe in yourself.”

  I’d nodded and smiled, pretending that I was completely focused on the words she was saying and not the memory of Smith’s mouth and hands and body on mine.

  For the remainder of my student teaching, Caroline assigns me to lunch duty, which is both good and bad. It’s good because it’s a distraction—it prevents me from zoning out and thinking about things I shouldn’t be thinking about while I eat my bologna and cheese sandwich.

  It’s bad, however, because I’ve been assigned to the first lunch shift—the shift Smith attends. Since he’s only a half-day attendee, he’s been lumped in with the open campus students who go to the community college in the afternoon. The work-study program eats on first lunch, too, so the cafeteria gets pretty crowded.

  I’m sitting at the faculty table, watching a group of sophomores conduct some sort of disgusting snack cake eating contest, when a tray clatters onto the table next to my brown-bag lunch. I look up, and Jeremy Christopher smiles down at me before plopping on the bench.

  “Hey, fellow lunch-duty buddy.” He nudges my arm with his elbow. “Nice to see you out and about—you usually eat lunch alone.”

  I smile back at him. “I usually grade through lunch—I can get a lot done with a half hour of peace and quiet. But I suppose I couldn’t have a full teaching experience without witnessing the cafeteria in all its glory.”

  I gesture to the Tastykake table, and Jeremy makes a face.

  “Well, then maybe getting assigned to chaperone lunch is a good thing,” he says before digging into his spaghetti.

  I watch him from the corner of my eye as he chews and swallows. There’s something about Jeremy that’s just rich—like he’s stronger than he seems based on the depth of his features. I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t have noticed this about him before—except, of course, for the fact that my eyes and attention have been completely preoccupied with another guy. Maybe—maybe it’s time for me to be a little less concerned about Smith Asher and a little more open to . . . other options.

  “Is there something on my face?”

  Shit.

  “No—sorry. I just zoned out there for a minute.”

  His mouth twitches with a tiny smile and he digs back into his noodles.

  “Would it embarrass you, Hyacinth,” he says slowly, “if I said that you can stare at me for as long as you want?”

  I look over at him and raise an eyebrow. He gives a little shrug.

  “Just saying.”

  He takes a big bite of his food, then glances around the room. I suppose I should probably be doing that, too, considering I’m supposed to be keeping my eye on things. I look over the crowds of students—some at tables, some standing in line for their lunch—and I pretend like I’m not looking for someone specific.

  At least, not until my eyes fall on him.

  Smith’s standing with Cherry again, and I can feel my lip begin to curl. Jeremy takes one look at my face, then follows my gaze.

  “Oh—that girl.” He rolls his eyes. “She sure can pick ’em, huh?”

  I bite down on the inside of my bottom lip and try to steady my voice. “What do you mean?”

  His eyebrows rise a bit and he takes a sip from his water bottle. “What? You don’t know the deal with Smith Asher?”

  I give a little shrug. “I guess not.”

  He snorts a little, then shakes his head. “I don’t know him all that well, but his brother, Eric, seems to think he’s on a bad path.”

  “Eric? He’s the—uh—SRO, right?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

  Jeremy nods.

  “Yep. Apparently, Smith is a big fuckup—trouble with the law and all that. I’m pretty sure he’s been arrested before.”

  I bristle at this. Sure, Smith had told me that there were some brushes with the law in his past. But, I wouldn’t call him a fuckup by any stretch.

  “I’ve never seen that side of him,” I say, hoping I sound indifferent. “That doesn’t sound like the Smith I know.”

  Fantastic. This just keeps getting better and better.

  “So, Hyacinth . . .”

  I glance over at Jeremy and he leans in a little closer.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to, uh, go out sometime. With me.”

  I blink at him. Then I blink again. It’s the last thing I expected him to say.

  “I mean, I know you’re busy with student teaching and you’ve got a lot going on—I just thought maybe we could get dinner or something.”

  I force myself to consider the offer. I’ve been so embroiled in drama and ridiculous Smith Asher nonsense, Maybe I should let myself have some fun. Go on a date with someone who actually has a high school diploma. And actually hasn’t, apparently, been to jail.

  “I’d like that,” I finally say quietly. “To go to dinner, I mean.”

  “Sweet!” Jeremy’s brown eyes light up from within and he grins at me. “Are you free Friday?”

  I pluck a pretzel out of my plastic bag. “Yeah, actually, I am.”

  “Then it’s a date.” He suddenly stands up and gives me a little wink. I can’t help but smile as he strolls out of the cafeteria, then shake my head. He is charming, I will give him that. And a nice distraction.

  But when the bell rings to end lunch and students begin pour out of the cafeteria doors, I find myself locking eyes with Smith again. He’s coming closer and, when he’s a few feet from me, he narrows his eyes.

  “So you and Mr. Christopher, huh?” he says under his breath.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mutter. Smith snorts.

  “Please. You were practically sitting on his lap and dry humping him.”

  I stiffen and start to move away, but he blocks my path.

  “He’s a tool.”

  I glare at him.

  “At least he’s not a student,” I say, practically spitting the words.

  I try not to think about him watching me as I walk away. I try not to think about my exit as a retreat. Instead, I hold my head up and fo
rce myself to move slowly through the crowd of students. I need to put as much space between me and Smith as possible.

  Somehow, I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.

  ***

  “Cheers!”

  Rainey holds up her cocktail, and Carson and I follow suit. We all take long sips of the sweet-and-salty drink.

  “Man, whoever thought of Margarita Mondays is a genius,” Carson says, glancing around the La Tolteca dining room in approval. She grins at me as I go in for a second sip.

  “That night at Cave really opened you up to drinking liquor, Cyn.” Rainey nudges my shoulder. “First it’s margaritas, next it’s moonshine.”

  I roll my eyes at her, then take another drink.

  “So, how’s the jailbait working out?” she asks me, waggling her eyebrows. I bark a laugh.

  “First of all, he’s twenty—totally not jailbait.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Carson says, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That’s just semantics.”

  “Secondly,” I continue, leaning back in my chair, “I’ve got a date on Friday night with a teacher who is decidedly not jailbait, and who seems to like me a lot. So there.”

  Rainey rubs some of the salt off the rim of her glass. “Oh, yeah? Tell us about him.”

  I reach for the basket of chips. “His name’s Jeremy—he’s a science teacher.”

  “And?”

  I frown. “And what?”

  Carson sort of squints at me, her dark eyes narrowed as though she’s attempting to solve a riddle.

  “And—is he hot? Is he doable? Do you see yourself wearing panties on this date or will that just prevent the inevitable from happening sooner?”

  I roll my eyes. “Right—because I do a lot of hooking up at restaurants with guys I barely know.”

  Rainey shrugs.

  “Apparently you do a lot of hooking up at bars with guys you barely know. Or was Smith just an exception to your rule?”

  I glare at her. “I’m not discussing this again.”

  “So, you’re going on a date with Jeremy,” Carson interrupts. “And that’s great. But, come on, Cyn—we have to ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “About Smith.”

  I crunch down on a chip. “What about him?”

  Carson shrugs. “I dunno—I guess I sort of thought that there might be something there, you know?” It’s my turn to shrug.

  “He’s an twenty-year-old high school student, Cars. You hold him up next to Jeremy—college educated, full-time employed, clean cut—and it isn’t really a contest.”

  “Yeah, but who’s the winner,” Rainey mutters under her breath. I pretend to ignore her, then gulp down more of my margarita.

  “Okay, moving on,” I say. “I want to talk about us. It’s a little over a month away from graduation and we haven’t even talked about this summer. I think we should take a trip or something to celebrate our master’s degrees.”

  “Oh, a trip!” Rainey nods enthusiastically. “I will definitely need some good beach time after graduation.”

  I glance at Carson, who is uncharacteristically quiet as she fiddles with a lime wedge that’s soaking the edge of her cocktail napkin.

  “What do you think, Cars?” I ask her. “Cancun in June? You know how I feel about rhyming.”

  She gives me a wan smile, then looks down at her lap.

  “I need to tell you guys something.”

  Her expression is too serious for this to be anything good. Carson licks her lips nervously and I can see her clenching her hands into fists.

  “What’s up?” Rainey asks, her brow furrowed. Carson clears her throat.

  “I’m not graduating this spring.”

  I blink at her, then shoot a look at Rainey, whose mouth has sort of dropped open.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Carson sighs.

  “When I decided not to student teach this spring, I gave up on my last required credits. I thought I might be able to make them up some other way, like through a class or something. But I missed Drop/Add and the registrar wouldn’t let me into a course retroactively.”

  She takes a sip of her drink.

  “So, sure, we can go to the beach—but it won’t be a post-graduation celebration for me, that’s all.”

  For a long moment, we’re all quiet.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” I finally ask her.

  “I didn’t want to bum you all out.” She gives us a self-deprecating smile. “Look, this is my deal. I’ve got to handle it. I’m going to go back in the fall—hopefully do my student teaching then—and graduate in December. It really isn’t that huge of a deal.”

  I nod slowly, wanting to be supportive.

  “Well, that sounds like a good plan.”

  I scoot over and give her a one-armed squeeze around her shoulders. “I wish you’d told us before, Cars. Seriously.”

  She half shrugs and reaches for a handful of chips.

  “I know—I guess I just didn’t want to think about it. Tutoring has kept me busy and I’ve even started working with commuter students on some college classes. It’s nice to do the one-on-one thing. I think I’m just better at that.

  “So, anyway.” She bites her lip, then shrugs again. “Sorry to be such a downer.”

  Rainey hops up from her stool and comes around to our side of the table. She pulls Carson from her seat into a big hug.

  “We love you. We’re here for you.”

  She pulls back a bit, then stares at Carson and me.

  “In fact, why not celebrate before the summer? We don’t need to wait until June—my parents’ condo in Ocean City is always empty. Let’s drive down to the shore. It’s not that warm yet, but we can hit up Seacrets and get our Dirty Bananas on!”

  It’s a tempting thought—Seacrets beach bar makes the best banana cocktails on the planet. But I shake my head.

  “I can’t—I’ve got so much grading to do. Not to mention my date with Jeremy on Friday night.”

  “Boo,” Rainey says, giving me a thumbs-down. She glances back at Carson. “What about you? You going to be a party pooper, too?”

  Carson looks at me. “Honestly, Cyn, I could use a weekend away. Would you be totally pissed if we ditched you?”

  “Of course not.” I shake my head. “You should totally go. Go meet some guys, go dance, go drink. All of that stuff. You deserve to have fun, too.”

  Rainey lets out a joyful little whoop, then grabs her phone off the table.

  “I’m going to go call Dad and let him know we’re using the condo.”

  She practically skips toward the door of the restaurant, her phone already pressed to her ear. I take the opportunity to give Carson a proper hug.

  “I hate that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me,” I say quietly as I pull back to look at her. “I just don’t want you to think you can’t tell me stuff.”

  Her mouth lifts in a sad smile and, for the first time, I see how tired her eyes are. She looks like she’s been losing sleep.

  “You’ve had a lot going on lately,” she says. “I know things are hard with your dad and then there’s student teaching and the stuff with Smith. Now, throw this Jeremy dude in the mix, and the last thing you need is to listen to my sob story.”

  I elbow her gently. “I will always have time to listen to your sob stories—that’s what sisters do for each other.”

  There’s a sheen of tears in Carson’s eyes now and she finally hugs me back.

  “I just want to find my place in this world, you know?”

  I exhale hard, then nod.

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Rainey comes bounding back into the bar, grinning from ear to ear.

  “We’re all set!” She turns to me with a little pout. “You’re sure you can’t go?”

  “Positive. But I know you guys will have a blast.”

  Rainey drops her chin into her hand and regards me. “There is, however, a very important subject we need to discuss.” />
  I quirk a brow at her. Rainey isn’t usually one for breaking out the big guns when it comes to heavy conversation.

  “Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

  Her naturally pouty lips curve up into a wicked little smile.

  “We need to talk about what you’re planning to wear on this big date of yours. I, for one, think you should try rocking those black leather boots again.”

  I groan. “What, since I had so much luck in them last time?”

  “Exactly!”

  I glance over at Carson, who is grinning widely. Rainey launches into an extensive overview of the sexiest items in her closet, and I take another sip of my drink.

  Yeah. Life is complicated. But, if nothing else, I have this—these almost-sisters I couldn’t imagine living without and one completely delicious frozen margarita.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Breaking Point

  “So, tell me about yourself.”

  I look at Jeremy, sitting across from me and smiling encouragingly, then let my eyes move over the rest of the restaurant. I wonder if the owners designed it to be a cliché romantic atmosphere. The candlelight, the violin music, and even the heart-shaped salt-and-pepper shakers scream, “I’m trying to get laid.” Or, at the very least, “I’m trying to impress a girl I barely know.”

  I shrug in answer to his question and give him a small smile.

  “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in Catonsville—about ten minutes from the city. I’m really close to my father. I’ve got great friends. I guess that’s about it.”

  “What about your mom?”

  I run my hands over the linen napkin in my lap.

  “She left when I was a baby. I never knew her.”

  Jeremy swallows hard, then clears his throat.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

  I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “Don’t worry about it. Ancient history.”

  His smile looks kind of wobbly now. Uncertain. Not at all like the confident smirk of another guy I know. I force that thought out of my head.

  “How about you?” I ask, reaching for my wine. “What’s your story?”

  Jeremy seems far more comfortable talking about himself, and he launches into a substantial life history. I nod politely when he tells me about his four sisters and his parents’ perfect marriage, about how he went to the University of Delaware to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a high school teacher.