Page 8 of Tempting the Teacher

A counter Chad sidles up to as the band clears the field and the football stands swell again with bodies. “You’ll miss Alixia’s performance,” I observe, ticking the corners of his mouth upward.

“I’ve been to her concerts,” he continues, eyes riveted to mine. “Right now, I’m more interested in you.”

I can almost hear Sherry’s teeth gnash as she sucks in a sharp breath. A blaze of embarrassment ignites my cheeks. I shoot a glare at her before leveling one at Chad. “You can’t just say things like that,” I hiss, dropping my voice to a near whisper.

He raises an eyebrow. “Things like what? The truth?”

Oh, this. This snark, I haven’t missed it at all. My retort lodges in my throat as Alix’s voice washes over the stadium speakers, clear as a mountain stream and equally enchanting. But it’s not her melody or her vocal prowess that freezes us in this eye-to-eye stalemate. It’s the lyrics. God, why’d pick that song?

This was the tune she wrote after she and Ryan rekindled their relationship, transitioning from just friends to something richer, deeper. As the chorus declares simply; ‘Now they’re friends and so much more.’ His eyes hold mine, and I don’t look away. I can’t. He’s asking me a question with his stare that I’m not ready to answer. Not when the chorus is pouring over the loudspeakers, and the lyrics are playing on my heartstrings. Damn him and this reunion.

“What do you want, Chad?” My voice comes out more brittle than I’d like as I snap back to my role behind the counter.

He answers not with a food order but with a lifted eyebrow that incites a silent cacophony in my head—screams, whoops, hollers.

“Is everything okay here?” Sherry intrudes. Her tone oozes faux concern. “Need help?”

Her timing is impeccable. Her question lands in the brief, loaded silence following the last note of Alix’s song. Every head behind the counter swivels my way. A mural of confusion, amusement, and curiosity painted on their faces.

And Chad? Smirks. I could scream. I could whoop. I could holler. Hell, I might just add murder to the list.

While I’m internally debating the finer points of homicide versus letting it all slide, Noel glides over and rescues me. Taking the order, he now gives easily. I picture myself going bald from pulling out my hair. When he returns to the field, she corners me and demands. “What was that about? Spill?” Her eyes narrow, daring me to stay silent. Dani, who also volunteered for this concession stand circus, bounces over, her eyes sparkling with the effervescence of a freshly popped soda can. Damn him.

Sherry’s attention vacillates between eavesdropping on my life and tuning into the sudden roar erupting from the field. Football and drama, her twin siren calls. Eventually, the action on the gridiron wins her over, and she rushes off, leaving me alone with my two best friends. These are the women with whom I’ve shared every secret and milestone, from the awkward days of first periods to our embarrassing first times. They’re narrowing their eyes at me now, looking like they’d happily perform surgery with a butter knife to dig out whatever’s going on between Chad and me.

Despite wanting to hold today’s events closer to my chest, to turn them over and over like a Rubik’s Cube, I cave under their relentless stares. And I spill. In the dim glow of the concession stand, amid the wafting scent of popcorn and hotdogs, we dissect the day’s interactions more meticulously than any frog in a high school biology class. Each word, every gesture, gets laid out on the table as we weigh and measure the Chad we knew against the Chad he purports to be now.

Finally, Dani nods, as if she’s just wrapped up a particularly puzzling autopsy. “Girl, you need to be like Nike and just do it,” she declares, punctuating the air with a fist pump that is encouraging and suggestive at the same time.

I roll my eyes so hard I’m afraid they’ll get stuck looking at my brain. “Oh, please.”

Unfazed, she continues, “I don’t know how you kept your panties on when he said he’d get down on his knees. What, did they get snagged on the chastity belt you wear?”

Dani’s jabbing, but she’s also echoing a conversation we’ve had before. She’s never understood my limited romantic resumé, especially after I confessed that my one and only sexual experience was less Fourth of July fireworks and more malfunctioning sparkler—a brief, sputtering affair that quickly fizzled out.

Our laughter fills the air as we finish wiping down the counters, every giggle and chuckle adding another stitch to the fabric of our friendship, and maybe—just maybe—another layer of resolve to my mixed feelings about Chad.

Noel nudges Dani aside, and I brace for her signature voice of reason. “Raya,” she says, taking my hand and squeezing it tightly. “Girl, take him for a spin first. Don’t be the girl who gives it all away at prom to the first guy she dances with. But do give him a chance.”

I’m so shocked, I can’t find the words. Noel is as much of an old maid as I am. “I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. Chad was your ‘one,’ just like Trace was mine.” Now I’m not just shocked; I’m light-years beyond it. Talking about Trace is like talking about Bruno—a no, no. “We need to decide: do we give them another shot, or do we move on? No more fence-sitting. We’re either all in or all out.” She sighs and gives my hand another comforting squeeze before letting go. “At least you have a choice to make. With Trace, I don’t even have that luxury.”

For a fleeting second, the sadness in her eyes is almost too much to bear. But then she blinks it away. At that moment, her eyes mirror all the emotions I’ve buried deep about Chad. Damn him. Double, damn him. Just then, another eruption of cheers and applause roars from the stands, punctuating the air with a sonic wave that temporarily drowns out our solemn moment. Somewhere out there, a player just made a goal or thwarted one, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is the undeniable truth that I can’t sideline this decision any longer. Chad and I are on the clock, and time’s ticking down.

The crowd buzzes with excitement as they pour out of the stadium, our victory causing purple and gold team flags to flutter in every direction. The four of us wrap up for the night. Sherry vanishes—most likely off somewhere, smiling up at Chad. Rolling my eyes, I shove a box of napkins into the storage bin with more force than necessary. Noel catches my mini-outburst. “You alright over there?” she asks, arching a brow at the plastic handle I’ve just snapped off.

“Fine,” I answer, “just channeling a bit too much team spirit.”

“Mmm, hmm. Sure,” she responds, clearly not buying my act for a second.

Dodging any further probing from her and Dani, I announce. “Okay, I’ll take these back to the cafeteria.”

“You sure? We could just haul everything back on Monday.”

“Positive. I locked my purse in my classroom, anyway, so I have to go back. You guys go ahead. I’ll meet you for the trail ride tomorrow at nine.”

“Nice try,” Noel replies, chuckling. “Tomorrow is the first student-free activity. You’re not dodging it. Be there at eight a.m., sharp.”

“Make it seven-thirty,” Dani chimes in. “Better yet, we should probably just show up on her doorstep and—”

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