Page 182 of Beyond the Temptation: Vol 2

“Thank fuck for that. Can you even imagine the long-term damage that could do to someone?” Adlar chuckles and lets off the gas, taking the residential streets leading up to the technical school much slower than necessary. “Look, Garret. Like I said before, we’re shorthanded. I don’t need a teacher. I need a certified mechanic to observe and answer questions if they get stuck on something. These are their projects. Their grades. Their work. Not yours. I just need you to make sure nothing gets thrown, stolen, beaten, or broken.”

“The students or the equipment?” I laugh.

“Yes.” He pulls into a parking spot and turns off the engine. “Garret, you can do this. Just remember what it was like standing where they are now. You may look at this place and remember the fighting and drinking and all the other bullshit that followed us around, but I see hope. Change. I see the place where you finally found purpose. And where I’m building a future. A family.”

I mull over his words for a moment and sigh.

“It’s just a building, Adlar. That’s it. Bricks, mortar, and bullshit. This place isn’t magical, and it didn’t give my life purpose. I did that.” I jab my finger into my chest, feeling strangely proud of how far we’ve both come. Even if I’m still a shit show, at least I’m a different brand of shitshow now. High school me leveled up. “I pushed myself hard, studied, and put in the work. I’m God damn good at what I do because of me. This place just happens to be where picked up my first wrench. Same for you. We put in the work.”

“There.” He nudges me. “Hold on to that feeling. The memory of how you felt picking up that tool and realizing you finally found your thing. If you can help even one person at my school find that spark – give them a fighting chance at a better life – you will understand why I keep coming back here each morning. You don’t like how your instructors treated you? Well, here’s your chance to show them a better way. Your way.”

“They’re all still teaching? How old are they now?”

“Not too old to not make it in here every day, but way too old to relate to the students.” He gazes at the building. “You can still connect with the students.”

“Pretty sure HR wouldn’t want me connecting with students.” I smirk, “So, now I get to call my tormentors by their first names? Oh my gawd, we’re colleagues. You should have led with that fact, Dr. Phil. Now that you’ve lit a fire under me for education, let’s go.” I open the door and get out of the car, glancing around the aged grounds.

“Lit a fire for education?” We cross the lot, and I reach out and pull open the heavy door, hating the scraping clink of the old double bar as it latches behind us as if wanting to remind us with every reluctant open and close that its days are numbered.

“Yeah, I mean you lit a fire where I keep all of my school-related grudges, resentment, self-loathing, and memories of every fucker who ever tried to break me, but hate fire is still a kind of fire, right? Oh…” I fake an exaggerated shiver. “The anticipation is killing me. You know that impending revenge gets me all tingly in my special place.”

“Garret,” Adler hisses, pushing past me into the empty shop room. “You can’t say things like that.”

“In the company of ladies? In church? Out loud? Ever?” I flip on the six switches behind the bulky metal desk, lighting up the entire room, and the loud buzzing of the fluorescent bulbs warming up after being off all night is already grating on what’s left of my nerves. But I try to block it out.

“In a sane world, all of the above, but let's start small by avoiding topics like your hate fire, anyone you consider a fucker, or anything that makes you tingly for any reason. And –” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you not refer to Summer as a witch, a cult member, a basic bitch demon sent from the darkest –”

“Deepest, not darkest.” I interrupt, dragging out the word. “The basic bitch demons crawl from the deepest pits of hell to trap the souls of weak men in their weird hair knots.” I pause, pointing to him. “Talking ’bout you here, bruh. And then they passive-aggressively torment the most virile, intelligent, and blindingly handsome men for seeing past their sexual trickery.” I jerk my thumb toward my chest and nod. “That’d be me. Now, I do love bratty attitudes from cute, bite-sized females who will not only step to me, but they will one hundred percent swing at me too. There is something captivating about a girl with an innocent face hiding what she’s really capable of. And I’ll never pass up the chance to go a few rounds with a girl like that, but that’s it. I take her home, dick her down so hard the entire neighborhood can hear the moment the coochie demon leaves her body, and then I walk, leaving a sated, sleepy, more pleasant girl than she was when I first met her behind. My cock literally exorcizes the hellfire that draws me to them. It’s the circle of life, and I’m just doing my part.”

“Holy shit, you have gone so far off-topic I don’t even remember where we started.” He holds up a hand. “I need you to not say anything like whatever that was to anyone else. Ever. That was –” He glances at the small window in the classroom door separating us from the hallway, taking a long, cleansing breath. “I think I felt the entire solar system shift in an attempt to stop the words your brain put together and declared, ‘These words are my best words. Here, Adlar, I made these sentences just for you. Listen.’ That was so – I mean, do you even know what you are saying beforehand, or are you hearing it for the first time with the rest of us?” He turns the knob and steps out into the bustling hall but freezes mid-step and spins, pinning me with a hard look.

“No. Just no. I need to go read something educational to counteract the lingering fog from whatever that was. Just have them work on their projects, and try to keep them focused. Nothing else.” He shakes his head and disappears into the crowd of students now flooding the hall.

Well, that was a lot of fun… How bad could it be?

CHAPTER THREE

GARRET

“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” I exhale roughly and let my head flop back against the headrest.

“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Adler grins, pulling into the driveway and killing the engine.

“Couldn’t have been that bad? One of them tried to juggle the wrenches… which was hilarious until Sergeant Kill-joy raised his hand and informed me it was my job to stop them. My student is a damn narc, and he ruined a perfectly good learning moment for the moron.” I drag my hand roughly through my hair, forgetting about the fucking man-bun Summer insists on and get my fingers wrapped up in the damn hair-dohickey. “Damn crunchy-ass hair-do.”

“Sergeant kill-joy? You mean Sanjay Keejen? Tell me you didn’t actually call him that, did you?” Adler sighs.

“Okay. I didn’t call him that?” I follow him up that walk, hesitating when the porch light flickers. “Is that a signal for, like, a home invasion or the cops?” I ask, half joking.

“Oh, it’s time for an invasion all right!” Adler spins, tossing me the keys to his car and his wallet. “Summer is ovulating! Get the fuck out of here for a few hours. Go watch the game or something. Just don’t come back until I text you.”

“Fucking rude. Hospitality, my ass! This is the worst bed-and-breakfast ever. Zero stars,” I complain to Adler’s back as he runs up the walk and slams the door behind him. I thumb through the bills in his wallet. “Fuck hospitality. Look out, ladies. You don’t know it yet, but tonight, the drinks are on Adler. And at least one of you will be on me.”

I really thought ladies' night would be more fun. I lean forward, resting my elbow on the bar, and lift the long-neck to my lips, trying not to laugh at the group of women to my right. They are gorgeous, but I know better than to approach a gaggle of giggling drunk girls in their element. They are living their best lives right now and don’t give a shit who overhears the secrets they think they are whispering about. Spoiler alert: They aren’t whispering, and they aren’t secrets – at least, not anymore.

"... and it's never just a back rub. Ten seconds in, out comes their dick. Every time." The blonde rolls her eyes, dropping her glass down onto the bar top.

"Bitch, you're getting backrubs?!" Black-dress gasps. She leans over the bar, blowing a kiss to the bartender when he heads her way. "I never get backrubs. Only wonky penises."

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