Page 78 of Teacher of the Year

“Than before. Than alcohol. Than everything.” His eyes sparkle mischievously. “You know, we still have about an hour until Illona comes home. I have an idea,” he mutters.

“I don’t think I’m ready for round two yet.”

“No, silly.”

Popping off the bed, he jogs into the bathroom, his fabulous body on full display. I hear the sound of water cascading and smile. I’m not sure what his plan for us entails, but I’d be more than content to lie here naked with him for the next hour. A few minutes later, Olan appears, still bare but with a shiny, damp stomach and chest, and he grabs both of my hands in his.

“Come on, lazy bones. You’re going to love this, I promise.”

Reluctantly, I let him help me up, and we saunter into the bathroom. My feet shuffling behind him, hands on his waist, I try to keep my body warm by staying as close to him as possible. He fits perfectly in front of me. We’re like two snap cubes clicking together.

Water flows almost to the top as the bath fills. Aromas of lavender and smoke fill the room from five flickering candles, creating a quiet twilight against the walls.

“There’s room for both of us,” he says, walking me over, not dropping my hand, and assuring I don’t lose my balance stepping in. The water steams, I ease in, and the tension from the day begins to fade. Olan joins me, and we rest on opposite ends of the soaking tub, the spout smartly positioned in the middle so we can both lean back. He keeps his knees bent slightly and tugs at my feet, stretching my legs out. Under the water, his hands glide up and down my shins, and I wonder if maybe this would be the ideal place to spend eternity with him instead of the bed.

“We’ve got an hour,” he warns.

“Perfect.”

I wasn’t planning on it, but I feel so relaxed, at ease, and connected to him in this tub. What I say next surprises even me.

“I want to tell you about why your recovery freaked me out.”

Olan’s lips draw tight, and he gives a slight nod, urging me to continue.

“Growing up with an alcoholic mom, well, messed with my head. My dad left when I was a baby, and Sarah was solely responsible for me. Turns out, she could barely take care of herself. She would have these horrible benders, always vowing to do better the next day. Promises to take me places, to the movies, shopping, to buy me stupid things we couldn’t afford. Broken promises.”

Olan continues to rub his hands up and down my legs. His eyes are glistening and my throat catches.

“She’d stop drinking for a few days, and then it would all happen again. Rinse and repeat.”

“It sounds like your dad leaving really did a number on her.”

“Yeah, I mean, I think that was a big part of it. And over years and years, well, it caused me to have an enormous problem trusting people.”

“And then your ex cheated on you.”

“Exactly. I’m working on things with my mother. She’s doing so well and I know she’s moving heaven and earth to repair our relationship. It’s really on me now.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It sounds like years of trauma to deal with.”

“Yeah, I’m trying. I know I’m messed up, and I know there are issues I need to tackle, but well, now you know why I bolted on Peaks. I feel like an ass. I’m sorry.”

“Marvin, you are not an ass. You have a great ass, but you are not an ass.” He leans forward and runs his right hand all the way up to squeeze my butt.

“So, when did she finally sober up?”

“My senior year of high school, she had a nasty night out and drove when she shouldn’t have.”

Olan winces, his inferences skills on point.

“Thankfully the only casualties were a tall oak tree and her Focus. She was banged up pretty bad in the hospital, and I sat at her bed, weeping, pleading for her to get help. I was leaving for college soon, and the idea of her alone, drinking herself to death, terrified me. I think that frightened her enough to agree to get help. She’s been sober since but getting there was a long fucking road.”

Olan scoots closer, our legs bending and melding together underwater. He places a hand on each of my thighs and pulls himself until his beautiful face lingers inches from mine.

“Listen, I can’t guarantee perfection, but I promise I’d never hurt you intentionally. And I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t had a drink in almost a year. And before that – college. I know this, whatever this is, feels new, but you have to trust me. I take my sobriety seriously. When you took off, well, it stung.”

My eyes begin to water, and I’m hopeful the steam from the bath might camouflage them a little.

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