Page 19 of Hot Four Teacher
“I promise I’m not creepy or a killer. But to put your mind at ease, feel free to send your location to whoever you want. I promise to get you home safely.”
We reach my truck, and I open the door and help her step inside.
Once I am settled in beside her, I ask for her address and plug it in to my GPS. As we start driving, I can tell she’s nervous, so I reach over to hold her hand. That seems to get her to relax a little.
“You really do look gorgeous tonight,” I tell her.
“Thank you. I feel a little out of sorts because I’m not usually this dolled up.”
I bet she looks gorgeous either way.
The drive to her house is short, but during it, I try to keep the pleasant conversation going to keep her calm. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in any way.
We pull into her driveway, and I quickly get out so that I can help her once again. Holding her hand, I lead her up the walkway to her cute little house.
When we get to her porch, I pause.
“Are you okay?” She asks.
“Michelle, I don't want to come inside if you’re not really sober enough to agree to it.”
Her forehead creases in confusion. “That’s soniceof you.”
“Is that a bad thing?” I ask.
‘No. Not a bad thing. Just not used to it.”
“I just…well, I kind of like you, and I don’t want you to think of me as just a regret in the morning.”
She thinks for a second, lightly tapping her finger on her chin. “Dane, I would really like if you came inside. Maybe we can just hang out and see what happens.”
The words she says don’t match the look on her face. That look showsexactlywhat she wants to happen.
Against my better judgement, I say, “Alright. Let’s go inside.”
She smiles and sticks the key into the lock.
As we walk inside, she says, “Sorry. It’s a little bit of a mess.”
I look around and see it’s not really messy at all. And that’s coming from a guy with a Type A personality.
“No worries,” I tell her. “My place is still covered in moving boxes.”
She throws her purse on a small table by the door and tries to hang her keys on a hook. Shecompletely misses, though, and watches them fall to the floor. With a small shrug, she walks away.
I lean down to pick them up. I know she’ll probably be looking for them tomorrow when the alcohol wears off.
She kicks off her shoes and heads further into the house. “Do you want something to drink?” She asks. “I don’t know how much I’ve got in the way of booze.”
“Uh, sure. I’ll take whatever you got.”
When she reaches the kitchen, she spends a moment peering into her fridge. And I spend a moment peering at her ass.
After she shuts the door, she says, “I only have Peach Schnapps.” Staring at the bottle, she adds, “You know what? I have absolutely no idea when I bought this.”
I laugh. “I’ll just take water if you have it.”
She grabs two bottles of water and hands one to me before chugging down half of hers.
