Page 83 of Beyond the Temptation: Vol 2

“Really?” Maggie asks speculatively. “I guess it’s good that he even made it through school. I’m surprised he’s not already a drunk like his father.”

“I think his dad left town years ago.”

Maggie rolls her eyes, “Probably for the best.”

“Yeah, probably.”

I made it to another Friday and with a semblance of grace, at that. Mr. Breyers popped into my 4th hour class on Tuesday for my final observation of the year. The lesson went well, and the students behaved.

Most importantly, nothing has come from the incident in the bar last week. I consider it nothing short of a miracle that the only people who know about a student’s lips on my neck are Jackson and me. Jackson has also backed off some in class, which I’m grateful for.

Four more weeks.

I just have to make it another month, and this school year will be behind me. Then I’ll have almost three months to get my shit together before next year. I walk into my fifth hour and greet the class with an enthusiastic smile on my face. Fake it till you make it is my new mantra.

From the moment I enter the class, I can feel his heated stare, no longer tampered down the way it’s been all week. No, this is full-intensity Jackson. I let out a sigh. Why? I want to cry out because I’m just so tired of it all.

Today’s lesson consists of a review of questions that one may need to ask if they are lost in a Spanish-speaking country. This is Spanish 101…my hopes aren’t high for this bunch, but maybe they’ll be able to find their way around the next time they are partying in another country.

“I already know cerveza, Señora. I won’t need anything else. Well, maybe condón…but I have that one down, too,” Jeremy, a school jock, announces after I’ve explained today’s lesson. His declaration is followed by a gale of laughter.

I want to tell Jeremy that beer and condoms will probably be the highlight of his useless life since he doesn’t remotely apply himself to his academics, and his football and basketball skills, although great here where he has limited competition, are less than mediocre when compared to the talent outside of this town. Although I know where his life is heading…he has no clue. He might as well enjoy the last month of the best years of his life. It’s sad, really.

“Humor me, Jeremy,” I say sweetly, sporting a big smile.

Jackson says something to Jeremy under his breath. I don’t hear what was said, but a few students around them snicker.

Jeremy’s face turns red. His eyes bulge as he pulls back his shoulders and puffs out his chest. “Shut the fuck up, trailer trash.” He glares at Jackson.

I hastily step into the aisle between their desks and place my hand on Jackson’s before pulling it away, “That’s enough, everyone. Let’s get started.”

The little verbal altercation between Jackson and Jeremy tampered the waves of heat Jackson was sending my way. But I still feel him throughout class. I have this almost visceral connection to him; my awareness of him is instinctual. It simply exists.

I can fight my attraction to Jackson all day long, deny my body what it craves, but I could never trick myself into believing that the connection doesn’t exist because, right or wrong—it does.

The bell rings, and the students file out of the classroom, eager to start their weekend. Jackson remains in his seat, his chin pressed against his chest as he stares at the desktop. I close the door of my classroom before walking over to Jackson.

“What’s going on?” I ask, concerned.

Jackson shakes his head.

“What’d you say to Jeremy?”

Jackson raises his head; his stare catches mine. “I told him that if he knows what a condom is then he should learn how to use one.”

“Why would you say that?” I tilt my head to the side in question.

“You know Shelly Jones?” he asks.

I nod because everyone knows of the sixteen-year-old walking these halls with a large pregnant belly.

“He took advantage of her. He was her first. He tricked her into believing what they had was real. But she was just his dirty little secret. He won’t even admit that the baby’s his. He won’t acknowledge her at all. She had so much potential, and now she’s destined to stay in the crappy trailer, two down from mine, for the rest of her life.” Jackson stands from the desk.

“She can still accomplish her goals. People with children succeed all of the time,” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Not people like Shelly, people with her support system—or lack of one.”

He steps toward me, closing the gap between us. Raising an arm, he brushes the back of his hand against my cheek. Instinctually, I close my eyes and lean into it. Seeing Jackson almost every day this past school year, working to ignore him each day—all of it should’ve made me immune to him by now. But it’s the opposite. I crave him all the time.

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