Page 15 of Stone Promises

Mallory

My phone vibrates in my pocket, alerting me of a text during my math lesson. I worry it might be an emergency because nobody I know would text me during school hours. I turn my back on the students and walk to the whiteboard, taking a peek at my phone. It’s a number I don’t recognize, so I slip it back into my pocket.

I’m a little more here today than I was yesterday, although I’m still distracted by thoughts of last night. I’m still not exactly sure why Chad showed up on my doorstep. Maybe he didn’t know I lived there anymore and came to see my dad but felt obligated to hang out with me. Maybe after he saw me at the club, he felt the need to tie up loose ends.

But the thing is, it didn’t feel like loose ends to me. Some of the things he said about him not being a stranger and about how he’d like us to share our secrets ‘someday,’ made me feel like maybe he wanted to rekindle our friendship. Which is ridiculous. He lives in L.A. and I live here. He’s famous and I’m a school teacher. Our lives are polar opposites. We’d have nothing in common anymore.

After I walk the kids to the cafeteria for lunch, I head to Mel’s classroom to eat with her. Along the way, my phone vibrates again, reminding me of the earlier text I need to read. I reach Melissa’s classroom before she does, so I get out my turkey wrap and start munching on some grapes as I read my missed messages.

310-555-0186: Can I take you to dinner tonight?

I don’t recognize the number and I have no idea who it is, although part of me knows who I want it to be. A very reluctant part of me. There is another text from a few minutes ago from the same number.

310-555-0186: Is that a no or are you making me sweat it out? I was hoping to do a little more groveling over say, pizza? It’s still your favorite, right?

I smile. It must be him. And the fact that he’s afraid I’ll refuse his invitation is mildly endearing. I find it amusing that his area code matches that of the show he once starred in—Malibu 310. Guess that’s where they got the name. I tap out a text.

Me: Who is this?

I quickly program his phone number into my contacts and put my phone away, knowing a busy guy like Chad probably doesn’t have much time for chitchat.

Melissa walks in the room, complaining about having to meet with a parent of a misbehaving student. She immediately stops rambling when she looks up at me. “Why the cheesy smile?” she asks.

My phone vibrates and I can feel my smile widen even further. I resist looking at it straight away. “Just happy to see you,” I say.

“Bullshit.” She sets her salad down, eyeing me skeptically. “You are still reeling over last night, aren’t you?”

As soon as Chad left, I was on the phone to Mel, spilling every last detail of what happened as we analyzed each conversation I had with him. I swore her to secrecy of course. Not that I needed to, she’d never use my past with Chad as a way to get attention. Luckily, I’ve been blessed with friends who are anything but attention whores. Well, maybe I haveonefriend who is an attention whore, but whether or not we are friends anymore remains to be seen.

“He texted me today,” I tell her, popping another grape into my mouth. “Asked me to dinner.”

Her squeals bounce of the classroom walls. “What? Oh, my God, Mal, he asked you out?”

I shake my head. “No. He asked me to dinner.”

“Same difference,” she says. “Oh my God, you’re going to be on TMZ. You’ll be famous. And I can say I knew you when.”

All of a sudden, a sick feeling washes over me. I didn’t even think about that. What would happen if we were seen in public together? Every woman he’s seen with becomes his reported girlfriend. I’m sure he doesn’t want that—to be seen with a teacher, a nobody. And I don’t want that either. He has a bodyguard for Christ’s sake. He’s that famous. Why would he even want to risk his reputation by having dinner with me? “It is not the same, Melissa. He just wants to get together and talk.”

“Where is he taking you?” She holds her hand out to silence me before I say anything. “No, let me guess. Eleven Madison Park? Or maybe Masa? Jesus, you’re lucky.”

“First off, I’m not accepting his invitation. And second, really?” I stare her down as she bounces around on her chair like one of her second-grade students.

She stills in her seat. “Sorry. I forgot that he’s an insensitive prick and that we hate him.”

“Well, maybe hate is too harsh a word,” I say. “But the jury is still out.”

I pull out my phone and check the new message.

Chad: Should I be concerned that you might have more than one random guy asking you to dinner? It’s Chad.

Without thinking too much about it, my fingers start tapping out a text.

Me: Oh, Chad! You mean the guy whose butt I kicked in HORSE last night?

Chad: One and the same. I want a rematch by the way. I’ve been practicing.

Me: You’ve been practicing? Since last night?

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