Hot For Teacher(135)

“You’ve had it so much worse than I have, but those feelings of detachment and keeping people at arm’s length are there for me, too. My parents suck. They’re never around. I feel like I’m more of an inconvenience than their son most of the time. I know how it feels to have your parents leave. And I know how hard it is to feel like you had to do it on your own. Your situation is in a completely different league from mine—so much that it’s almost incomprehensible —but on some level, I understand you.”

She closes her eyes and sniffs, lifting her head.

“I know it hurts, Arleen. I know what it’s like to think the people who were supposed to love you left you when you needed them the most.” I choke on my words.

Arleen isn’t even looking at me. She’s staring at a spot just over my shoulder. Her eyes are wide and glassy and I’m not entirely sure she’s hearing me.

“I realize that you and I can’t be more than friends right now, but I’d really like to keep you in my life.”

She finally looks at me, her face clearing, her eyes fixed on mine.

“Please, Arleen? Let me keep you?”

She slouches in her seat and wipes her eyes. “I’m not going to be able to trust you for a long time.”

I nod and smile. “That’s okay. I’m probably not going to be able to trust me, either.”

Arleen shakes her head. “I don’t know, Simon,” she says, and I can see her resolve ease a little.

I don’t want to push her for more. I know instinctively it would be too much. And even though I’m a little disappointed, I accept that it will take some time.

I get up and walk to her, holding out my hand. “Come on.” I motion toward the steps. “We have a debate to research.”

Her hand slips into mine, and I take it as a positive sign and we walk upstairs.

“Your house is huge,” she says, taking in the vaulted ceilings, hand-crafted banister, and the six doors she can see as we reach the top of the steps. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house this nice before.”

We walk past the bathroom, and my dirty boxers and T-shirt are lying on the floor from my shower. Reluctantly, I let go of her hand and grab a tissue from the counter and hand it to her. “My room is right there,” I say quickly, “Go in and start Googling. I’ll be there in a second.”

Her cheeks blush on the way to my room, and I’m certain she saw my underwear. Great. Because this night couldn’t get any more awkward.

I try to be quick, cleaning up the water I’d spilled getting out of the shower and piling the dirty laundry into the hamper. I take a towel and wipe off the counter, making sure that it looks clean enough. No sense in her thinking I’m a slob as well as a manwhore.

My reflection catches my eye, and my hair is a mess. After rubbing my hands through it to make myself somewhat presentable, I hear footsteps running through the hall.

Just as I’m opening the bathroom door, Arleen runs past and down the stairs. I can’t figure out why she’s in such a hurry. What the hell is going on?

“Arleen, where are you going?” I call out, but she’s already opening the front door.

“Arleen?” I race after her, and by the time I get to my front door she’s pulling out of my driveway.

I sweep my hands through my hair, frustrated. My panted breaths make the condensation smoke in the cool night air.

I don’t understand. I thought things were going okay. What happened? Why is she in such a hurry?

Walking back into my house, I look around, still trying to make sense of it all.

Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I race upstairs and into my room.

Sitting on my desk is my laptop. It’s open and the screensaver is off. My eyes zone in to the spreadsheet where Number Ten is blank and highlighted in yellow.





Chapter Twenty-One


The next few days blur together. Before I know it, I’m packing for Saint Louis. The bus comes in the morning, and I realize I haven’t done laundry.

Arleen hasn’t called, and when I’ve seen her in school, she hasn’t spoken to me. I’ve tried texting and calling, but she won’t respond. On Tuesday I had a plan to corner her before class, but she took a different way to avoid seeing me.

I know that game well. I was the master of dodge the psycho.

And now I have to spend the weekend with Miss Shields. On top of that, I haven’t thought or cared to find out what our debate will be about. Everything is a mess, and once again I feel out of control.

I’m not upset with Arleen. She’s going to hate me for a long time. And no matter how much it crushes me to think it, I know she has every right.