Page 80 of Hot Four Teacher
“I have to go.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Is this what Getting Good Dick does to a Gal?
Michelle
What is wrong with me?
And I ask that in all seriousness because therehasto be something wrong with me.
Two days ago, I went over to Dane’s, fully intending to end things. That was the plan--end things before someone gets hurt. But I got there, and he was being so nice and so understanding. So, what did I do? I threw myself at him like a crazed animal in heat. I tore off his towel and practically begged him to have his dirty way with me.
And he did.
While I can overlook my momentary lapse in judgement, that’s not even the worst part.
Nope.
The worst part is that I can’t stop thinking about doing it again.
Thursday night was the night of thegoodbye fuckas I’m calling it now. Friday night, Eve and I had a movie night. While we watched some new teenage comedy, I could barely concentrate on anything happening on the screen. All I could think about was Dane inside me while his hands and mouth were everywhere.
With the amount of time that I’ve spent thinking about sex, I feel like a teenage boy with onlyonething on my mind.
I thought I was doing better–and maybe I was–but now, I’m right back to where I was.
Horny. Flustered. Got my mind in the gutter.
Why is right now so much worse? Because I’m sitting here watching Eve’s soccer tournament.
Or rather, I’m watching Dane.
No matter how hard I try to focus on soccer, it’s just not nearly as much fun to look at.
It’s actually fairly sunny and warm today, making it the perfect weather for any soccer tournament.
But this weather also has Dane out here wearing a muscle shirt that shows off his big biceps and tattoos. Even from this far away, I can see when they flex, and I’m picturing everything they were doing to me.
Get it together, Michelle. You have more self-control than this.
While the sex is in the forefront of my mind, I do miss Dane in other ways too. We haven’t talked since I left his house, and I miss our texting and conversations after Eve went to bed. It was nice having someone to talk to for once–someone that wasn't related to me.
I know ending things was probably for the best, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him.
Ugh, even thinking that makes me sound ridiculous. It’s not like he and I had some epic love story. We had a fling, and now, it’s over.
That’s it.
Then, why can’t I stop thinking about him?
I shake my head in an attempt to knock out the thoughts of Dane. It doesn’t work, but at least I’m a little more invested in the game.
It isn’t long before my attention falls back to the coach. He’s pacing on the sidelines with his arms crossed over his chest. He’s studying every play the girls make and storing it in his brain for later. Every once in a while, he yells something encouraging to the girls or starts clapping his hands. If he were to look this way, I’m sure he would see me ogling him. I’m wearing sunglasses, but he could probably still tell–especially because I’m probably drooling.
But he doesn’t look over here. Why would he? I’m the crazy lady who ended it and then jumped his bones. He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind.
I watch the girls run a couple plays, and Eve scores a goal.
