Page 4 of Tempting the Teacher

When we were together in class or working on coding after school, he was different. We were friends. We laughed and joked. Not about other people, never that. But about normal kid stuff. We did dumb pranks like programming the computer to output naughty words. Mine were always curse words. His were always body parts. Getting his computer to randomly shout, “dick,” and watching me blush made him laugh every time. There were days when I wished I could lock the doors and seal us inside. My wish never came true, and instead, he’d stand, put on his letterman jacket like it was a cloak of invisibility shielding his heart, walk out of the lab, and act like we didn’t know each other. He avoided being seen with me back then, so why request a private meeting now? What did he want? I told myself that I didn’t know or care. Rejecting him was my homecoming victory. Sure, I wasn’t getting a ticker tape parade, and I definitely could never tell Noel. However, the privacy didn’t make the win any less sweet.

Instead of doing a victory lap, I surveyed the lunchroom. Seated at tables decorated with school colors, a few select alumni mingle with teachers and students, their laughter reverberating through the room. Alix strums her guitar in a corner, her eyes closed in blissful focus. Wearing a crisp police uniform, Lowell Carson has a group of students surrounding him, engrossed in whatever story he’s telling. Even Victor Kendrick—Trudy’s awful ex—commands a table, suited up and schmoozing with a group of aspiring entrepreneurs. The low buzz of chatter and clinking dishes fills the space. The slow shift into silence tells me he’s here. Chad.

He works his way to the front of the room, talking with Coach Benson, Bear Ridge’s physics teacher and athletic director. The murmur of the room gravitates towards him like he’s a human magnet. Chad’s changed, but not really. The boyish good looks have matured into something more refined. His suit looks like it costs more than my monthly rent, tailored to perfection, setting off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Chad’s looks have always been my Kryptonite. I have to drag my eyes away or scrounge them out. Something hot and sleepy in my belly unfurls like a cat after a long nap and stretches towards him. Reaches for the pull he’s always had on me. The victory I’d relished vanishes in the long, inappropriate glance I give him. One look, and I remember the other reason I need to avoid Chad Carrington. I want him. It’s crazy, unexplainable, and undeniable. At his grandmother’s funeral, I almost drooled on the mourners. I’d forgotten the heat between us. Written it off as teenage hormones. He couldn’t have affected me that strongly. Except he did. One look, and I was right back in that first moment, overcome with lust. Until he looked at me. Resurrecting insecurities, I’d buried under the weight of time. Insecurities that shouted nothing had changed.

I want him.

He doesn’t want me.

The students flock around him, their eyes wide with curiosity and admiration. Chad’s the golden boy, the one who got out of Bear Ridge and made it big. Hell, everybody is thrilled to see him—everybody except me.

The temptation to about-face and bolt is strong, but I fight it off. Instead, I grab a coffee and meander over to Alix, who gives me a knowing glance.

“Hey, you. How’re you holding up?” she asks, setting down her guitar.

“I’ve had better days,” I admit, rolling my eyes in Chad’s direction.

Alix snickers. “Ah, the man of the hour. You know, you could cut the tension with a knife.”

“I’d rather cut something else,” I mutter, taking a sip of my coffee.

We both laugh, the momentary relief dissolving as soon as Coach Benson steps up to the podium to call the room to attention. It’s time for the speeches, the imparting of wisdom to Bear Ridge’s youth. I steal another glance at Chad. Safe now that he’s looking down at his phone, probably reading some important email from halfway across the world. My gaze lingers a moment too long, and for a split second, our eyes meet. A quick lightning strike—flashing memories of late-night study sessions, shared smiles, and heartbreak. We only have an instant before Chad quickly diverts his gaze, ignoring me once again.

Yeah, so nothing’s changed since high school. As Coach Benson goes on, I force my attention back to the present, letting his voice ground me. Alix gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “Are you ready?” She whispers.

I nod, gritting a smile and focusing on the front of the makeshift stage. Chad ascends to the podium, his presence demanding immediate attention. A hush falls over the room, and I can almost hear the collective sigh of every teenage girl within a twenty-foot radius. I bite my lip so I don’t add mine to the chorus. When he clears his throat and speaks, his voice resonates with a confident charm that’s almost infuriating.

“Life outside Bear Ridge is different, but that doesn’t mean better,” he starts, locking eyes with a group of students sitting in the front. “What you have here—a community, a support system—is priceless. But you can go beyond, achieve your dreams, and still remember where you come from.”

It’s an excellent speech, persuasive and perfectly modulated. He talks about innovation, about not being afraid to fail, and I see he’s inspiring the kids. Chad’s always been a natural leader, able to fire up people and draw them in.

But while everyone else is hanging on to his every word, I’m stuck in a loop, replaying that fleeting eye contact we’d made earlier. I barely process his words. Though the ones I hear are everything I’d want the man in my life to say—to feel. I haven’t found a man who shares my passion for inspiring youth and believing in their future. Sincerity shines from him like a beacon. Stunning me. I’m shocked that he cares. Except it’s obvious that he does. He even takes time to answer some unscheduled questions from the kids, ignoring Coach Benson’s frantic waves. The applause roars as Chad steps down from the podium. The students cheer as if he’s just scored a touchdown.

How the hell am I supposed to follow that? Alix nudges me. “You’re up, rockstar.”

Taking a deep breath, I make my way to the stage, acutely aware of Chad retreating to the back of the room. As I set my notes on the podium, I steal another glance his way. Damn my eyes. I am going to claw them out. He’s talking to Lowell, both men engrossed in a serious conversation. And just like that, I’m an outsider all over again.

My voice starts shaky but gradually steadies. I talk about setting goals and being consistent. Focused. Ironic, since right now I can’t. They meet my words with nods and a smattering of applause. It’s not the thunderous roar of approval they gave Chad, but I’ll take it. It’s only when I associate hard work with winning on the football field do I get an enthusiastic cheer. I end with some encouraging words for the team and a sprinkle of trash talk about our opponents.

The students groan when the bell rings. They only have two classes to attend before lunch, since breakfast was an hour longer than usual. They’ll have a pep rally after they eat, and alumni are welcome to attend. It’s a rally they don’t need since they’re already so hyped up. Everyone is in party mode. Luckily, they’ll have an early dismissal after the pep rally. So, it’s only the morning teachers who will suffer for the next two hours.

As I make my way out of the cafeteria, I walk down the familiar hallways, passing lockers adorned with graffiti and stickers. I shake my head at some of the inventive ways they’ve decorated their lockers for homecoming. Noel, Dani, and I used to do the same. I’m convinced that each generation of kids is certain that they are doing things their parents never thought of—when, really, not much changes. I brush by purple and gold garlands heading for the lab. When I hear his voice clearly over the rumble of students moving to their next destination.

“Ms. Ali, can you spare a few minutes?”

My feet plant themselves in the hallway. Stopping so abruptly, I nearly pitch forward. My body freezes. Determined not to walk away from this man it wants despite my brain’s vehement protest.

Fortunately, my words are on board with ignoring him. “Sorry, I’m on my way to class.”

A student brushes by. Calling back over her shoulder as she continues on her way. “Ms. Ali, did you forget? They canceled all the specials today.”

Dammit, Joy. I don’t yell at her before she disappears into her classroom, but I want to. Suddenly, the hall is unfathomably clear. I turn and face him. When had he moved so close? I open my mouth to refuse again and take in a gulp of his scent. Big mistake… Huge.

“I can’t.”

“You can.” He negates. Running over my wishes like he’s back in high school, charging down the field. My head shakes back and forth with another denial. But he’s not taking no for an answer. “Yes, Raya. We need to talk.”

His eyes burn with a meaning I can’t interpret. He holds my eyes so long I worry he’s reading every thought. Reading me. My heart flutters, my palms sweat, and I get so flustered that I finally nod. Barking out a quick, “Fine.” My tone is sharper than I intended in my attempt to protect myself from the one man who’s ever truly hurt me.

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