Page 7 of Hot For Teacher
“I want that. I want a night at home with you,” her voice is soft again, her big eyes watching me.
We rush to Blockbuster, renting a horror film for her and an old classic for me. We wind up cuddled on the couch, a huge bowl of popcorn between us. It feels very much like the date night I was dreaming of earlier. I remind myself all night it is not a date, of course. It isnota date.
Nothing wrong with a stepmother cuddling up with her stepson for a movie. No harm in us falling asleep together, her little body pressed intimately against mine. I am not wrong for how tight I hold her or how good it feels when she mumbles my name in her sleep.
I am just being a good stepson, I tell myself. Not that I believe myself—because I am a goddamn liar.
Chapter Four
Blair
Am I wrong for not being sad about being divorced?
Being twenty-five with a marriage on the record is a bummer, for sure. Only I am not sad that I am single again. Now that I am on my own, I am making choices for myself. I am doing what I want to do for the first time in my life.
Going to school to become a teacher is the best thing I ever decided to do. I am more confident, more independent, and stronger than I have ever been. Doing it with Brenden there feels almost unfair. I don’t deserve to have him be so good to me after I was so rotten to him.
Living with him was an awful idea. I love every single moment of it, and I shouldn’t. I was his stepmother. I should not do the things or feel the things I do for him. I wake up every morning to fix breakfast so we can talk about our classes, and I get some time alone with him. I can’t cook but he pretends that Pop Tarts and Yoo-hoo passes as breakfast.
Living with him has awakened the parts of me I tried to forget. The book worm who called cuddling up with a book and a cold Tab a rad Friday night. The girl who liked to laugh at Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch. When I came to Pine Grove, I became a different person to find my place. With Brenden, I never feel as if I have to be anything else but me.
I want to come clean with him about why I married his father. Brenden refuses to talk about his father at all. Whatever he thinks is the reason we got married, he is wrong. How do I tell my stepson that I married his dad not because I loved him, or he loved me? Can I convince him it was a marriage of convenience and nothing more?
“Going to hit the arcade after class today,” Brenden tells me as he watches me pour us both bowls of Cookie Crisp. “Want to come with?”
Do I want to go out to behave like a young kid with my stepson? Yes, I do. Being with him, either here at his place or when we hang out between classes, it feels like being a teenager again. I always had the best times with him and his sister. Not that his sister is too keen on me these days.
“Should we invite Bobbi?” I suggest before I shove a spoonful of sweet cereal in my mouth.
We have not talked much since I married her father. While she never cut me out or turned on me, things were never the same. I understand. Both the Gallo’s must have believed I hung out with them to get to their dad. That could not be further from the truth, but I know I need to earn their trust back.
“We could, yeah,” he replies before chewing thoughtfully. “Kind of want you to myself today.”
My spoon clatters against the bright orange fiesta ware as I choke on a spoonful of cookies. Brenden rushes to my aid, patting me on the back. Only his touch doesn’t stop when I can breathe again. As it has often lately, his touch lingers, a soothing hand sliding up and down my back.
As his hand slides beneath my thick French braid, I hold back a shudder. He was always affectionate towards Bobbi, me, and our other friends. This is different. This touch is not friendly or cautious and it has grown more daring lately.
Brenden moves his whole body behind mine where I sit at the narrow breakfast bar. Our bowls of cereal sit forgotten. I feel the heat of him, the weight of him at my back as his arms cage me in. My eyes flutter closed as his head bends, his lips next to my ear as he answers.
“Don’t you know, Blair? Always wanted you to myself,” he mutters, stunning me as his mouth brushes my skin, sending electric bolts of want darting towards my center.
My body trembles slightly as I lean back against his chest. With my heart thundering in my chest, I nod just once. Because why keep lying to ourselves about this? After I got married, I knew I had made a huge mistake. I regretted every single day since.
No, I regret all the days since I said no to going to prom with Brenden.
We had spent the summer before senior year flirting with one another. I know he doesn’t think I took him seriously because no one else did. I always did. I always thought he was smart, he was funny, and he was so beautiful I often found myself just staring at him.
With his thick, dark hair always a mess, a mischievous smile at his perfect lips that always lit up his blue eyes, I thought he was the most perfect boy I had ever met. That summer we were practically inseparable, going swimming in Heart Harbor, hitting the drive-in every weekend, or spending nights at Skateland or the Arcade.
Brenden never flirted with other girls. He never talked to them about the movies he was passionate about. And henevertook any other girl to the drive-in. When he took me, it felt so special. He would set up the back of the bed with blankets, a cooler full of Tab and the best buttery popcorn in town.
“Did you? No, I guess I never knew, Brenden.”
Behind me, he chuckles. I love his laugh, and he can always make me laugh with him. This laugh though? This is so different than his cute laugh when we’re watching Money Pit, his favorite movie. This laugh is...it’shot.It is sexy and dark, and when his arms close tighter around me, pinning me to his firm chest, I gasp.
“Yeah, you knew. Everyone knew Blair. Why do you think I asked you to prom?”
“To get laid,” I mutter as I recall how hurt I was when he asked.
