Page 12 of Shielding Rosie

“All I care about is that you're happy.” He gives me a warm smile. “I also love seeing my number on you.”

“I can’t wait to see you actually play. I studied.”

“For economics?” he asks, and I laugh again.

“I probably should have done that but no. Football. I know all the rules, but it is annoying how the rules change for each division. High school, college, and the NFL all have different rules, but I guess a lot are the same.”

“All that matters is we score the most points.” He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose, and my heart flutters at the small act. It’s sweet and affectionate and makes me realize how much I’ve longed for this in my life.

Tate takes my hand, his fingers linking through mine to head toward the school. Even with the kiss, Tate doesn’t push me to tell him about why I was so upset this morning and instead gives me room to breathe. It’s what I need, and clearly he can sense that.

Maybe he can also sense this inner need for him to consume me. He’s gentle when he’s with me, but I feel like deep down, he could easily take over every available space in my heart. It’s a little like the way I feel when I play the piano. It’s a part of me and then simmers inside until I get to release it all. The rest of the world melts away, and I get to live in that moment.

In the past, an escape is what I’ve needed more than anything.

I’m not sure what came over my mother this morning. She accused me of trying to seduce her boyfriend. Does a mistress get to call the man they are banging their boyfriend? Not to mention that all I’ve ever done is try to stay away from any man she’s brought home. She has no idea I shove a chair under the handle of my door while keeping it locked too. That’s how much I don’t want them.

What scared me most was the outburst she had and how quickly it came. She actually shoved my keyboard, making it fall to the floor. I’m not sure how badly she damaged it, but I pray she’s not in the midst of a manic episode.

I have a small nest egg from an account my grandma opened for me when I was born. She would put money in it every year, and my mother has no idea it exists. At the time I didn't understand it, but now I’m sure she knew if she sent me a card with cash, my mom would take it.

Thankfully, the rest of the school day goes off without a hitch. Unless you count the awkwardness I always have when I’m in my nutrition class and having to face Mrs. Porter.

Tate is in the class with me now, so that helps. Mrs. Porter is kind of a bitch, but it doesn’t give her husband an excuse to cheat on her. Even worse with my own damn mother. I thought this was going to be a reset for both of us, but nothing has changed except living in a nice home.

“See you at the game?” Tate says when we exit our last class.

“I’ll be there.”

Tate leans down, and I close my eyes, knowing what’s coming. All day, he’s given me quick kisses, and I love each of them. This time is different as his fingers slip into my hair and he tilts my head back. The possessive hold makes my body heat, and then his tongue sweeps across the seam of my lips. Before I respond, he pulls back, making me remember we’re in the hallway.

“You better be. I’ll be looking for you.”

I stand there watching him go to the locker rooms, but I’m in no rush to get home. In fact, my goal is to miss my mother altogether. Deciding to get a little practice in, I peek into the theater and see it’s empty. Perfect. I can kill an hour and let off some anxiety, and hopefully my mother should be gone by then.

It’s some time later and I’m so lost in the music that when I hear someone call my name, I jerk up in surprise.

“Ms. Lane.”

I take my hands off the keys as a teacher I recognize comes toward me. I’ve seen her around, but I’m not sure how she knows my name.

“I’m sorry.” Oh no, I’m in trouble.

“Don’t be.” She smiles, shaking her head. “I only want to know why you aren't in our school's orchestra.”

“I was told it was full. I asked when I enrolled, but they said there wasn’t room.”

She scoffs a laugh. “Honey, I’ll make room. I’m Ms. Haze.” She holds her hand out, and I take it.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure has been mine. Can you swing by my room on Monday? I’m 207.”

“Of course,” I rush to say.

“I really hope to see you then,” she says before leaving me alone with the piano.

Am I dreaming? I grab my bag to find my phone because I want to text Tate. I want to ask him about Ms. Haze, but I stop myself. He’s got to focus on other things right now, so I’ll ask him after the game.

---