Page 40 of Just This Once

The words rattled in my skull, but were hollow. I glanced back at the garage, where I had left my chief. I didn’t have the balls to face him either. Resigned, I chalked it up to yet another thing in my life I had managed to fuck up.

FIFTEEN

EMILY

I presseda finger to my lower lip and closed my eyes, remembering the way Whip had kissed me in my parents’ driveway. Days later, I was still dazed from the kiss and had no idea how I had managed to drive back to my tiny apartment across town after being so thoroughly rocked.

Tell me to stop.

His charged words echoed in my mind as I counted, then recounted, the stack of still ungraded essays in front of me.

I wouldn’t have been able to stop him if I’d tried—my body would never have allowed it. Whip King ignited something bone-deep and feral inside me. It was like my feminine energy was screamingI know what his dick feels like and I need more of it!

I pressed a hand against the flutter that danced low in my belly. Desire entwined with hurt clouded my memory of his kiss.

It’s not worth it.

I ground my teeth together. How does a girl not take those words personally? Whip wasn’t the first man to say I wasn’t worth the effort. Still, the words were like a slap in the face, and anger burned in my cheeks.

I glanced at the clock, noting only a few short minutes until my students would come streaming in.

“Focus, Em.” I blew out a breath, acknowledging that my little pep talk was utterly useless. Ever since Whip pulled me against him and fervently kissed me—after he told me to beg for it—I couldn’t think of much else.

When the bell rang, the chatter of students floated down the hallway. I set the essays aside as I rounded my desk, determined to greet each student before he or she entered my classroom.

In addition to algebraic expressions and cultural context in literature, the bulk of my time at Outtatowner Junior High was spent building a community. Each student walked through my door with different strengths, and we worked together to honor and celebrate each other’s uniqueness.

As each student began finding their place in the social hierarchy of junior high, some days were a challenge. I greeted each of my students with a smile and cheerful “Good morning!” Most of the time I received smiles and mumbled greetings back, but the occasional scowl also helped me to understand the kind of morning each of my students was having.

As the last students walked down the hallway, I spotted Robbie Lambert trudging across the blue-and-white-checkered linoleum with his head hung low and a sad expression.

My heart sank.

The subtle shift in his attitude over the past few months had not gone unnoticed. His sweet and shy demeanor had slowly morphed into something withdrawn and sullen.

As he approached, I offered my sunny greeting, which he completely ignored.

Concerned, I gently placed my hand on his shoulder, but when he winced and ducked from beneath my touch, I quietly pulled my hand back.

“Hey, Robbie.” I kept my smile locked in place. “Everything okay?”

He paused, but his eyes stayed planted on his feet. “It’s fine.”

“Oh, okay.” My attention snagged on his shoes, whose white leather was stained and dingy. Parts of the upper were separating from the sole. I frowned. Just last week I had gifted Robbie a brand-new pair of sneakers.

My brows knit tighter. “Did the new tennis shoes not fit? We can figure something else out if?—”

Robbie’s jerky movements as he flung his backpack off his shoulder stopped me midsentence. He unzipped his bag, pulling the new shoes from his backpack.

He shoved them toward me but still hadn’t looked me in the eye. “I can’t accept these.”

I carefully took the shoes from him. “Oh. Okay.”

I remembered how excited Robbie was when I had presented them to him one day after school.

I was sure to make it seem like the new shoes were just some extra pair of men’s shoes I happened to have lying around, when in fact I had specifically gone out and purchased them for him. During an after-school tutoring session, Robbie had made a self-deprecating comment about not having a decent pair. Kids his age were brutal, and his worn-out shoes hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Later, I casually mentioned that I found a random pair lying around that I planned to get rid of and he could take them if they fit. At the time, his eyes lit up, and his wide toothy smile had squeezed my heart.

---