Page 7 of A Longtime (and at one point Illegal) Crush

Kye was still clenching his jaw. He handed Bono’s keys and wallet to the other chaperone.

The man looked them over. “I’ll go wait for the police to get here. We’ll see if they can find the kid at his address.” He hesitated, taking note of Kye’s stern expression. “Don’t worry about getting in trouble for punching the kid. He swung at you first. It was self-defense. Neither the school board nor the police will have anything to say about it.”

Kye nodded. “Thanks for your help.”

The man left and Elsie sat down on the plastic-coated bed. Kye took out a washcloth and some antiseptic cream. He dampened the washcloth, then dabbed it at the lump on her head, wiping away the blood so he could see the wound beneath.

“It isn’t too bad,” he said. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Yeah. In a lot of ways. She shut her eyes and didn’t flinch as he continued cleaning the cut. “Thanks for pulling that guy off of me.”

“I was afraid you were going to get in the car with him. I was afraid he would drive away with you, and then who knows what would’ve happened.”

“I wasn’t—”

Kye didn’t let her finish. “Why did you leave the dance with him? You knew it was against the rules.”

She couldn’t answer that question. How could she tell Kye she’d gone because she’d wanted to make him jealous? It seemed so foolish now, so petty. The tears she’d cried in the parking lot were back, filling her eyes and brimming over her lashes. Her shoulders shook with the weight of silent sobs.

Kye sighed, sat down next to her, and put his arm around her. His voice grew softer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You’ve been through a lot.” His arm felt warm and strong. She leaned against him without thinking about it.

“I care about you, Elsie. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She kept her gaze on his knees, couldn’t look into his eyes. She tried to stop crying but made a noise that sounded like a gasp for breath. He pulled her closer. She let her head sink against his chest.

He rubbed her back while she left mascara deposits on the front of his shirt. “It’s all right,” he told her again and again, each time murmuring the words with more sympathy, more…what else was in those words?

She stopped crying. She didn’t move her head, though. It felt so comfortable to lean against Kye this way, to feel the hard muscles of his chest against her cheek. Finally, she asked, “How did you get to me so fast?”

“I went after you as soon as I saw you leave with that idiot.”

Kyehadbeen watching her. He’d come after her. He cared about her. And now he had his arm around her and they were alone in this room. She felt the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek. She felt all the years of longing welling up inside of her. Everything was converging in a single point. He was warm and strong and perfect. This was supposed to happen. Why should either of them fight it?

She lifted her head, took a steadying breath, and pressed her lips to his.

For two seconds he kissed her back. His mouth moved against hers, tasting of mint and hope. It was a real kiss and she was blissful. Or at least it had seemed like a real kiss at the time. Later on, as she relived those two seconds and examined them in microscopic detail, she was never sure whether he had truly kissed her back or whether he’d just been so surprised, he hadn’t been able to react before then. Maybe his mouth had only been moving in horrified alarm.

Kye dropped his hand from her shoulder and pulled away from her as though she was fire. “What are you doing?” he demanded. He stood up, putting space between them. “Why would you—are you trying to get me fired?”

She blinked at him, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. “I wouldn’t tell anyone about us. You don’t have to worry.”

He stared at her with wide-eyed disbelief. “There is nous, Elsie. This isn’t some game. This isn’t you blowing kisses to me during the prayers at church—”

“You knew about that?” she interrupted, mortified. “You saw me?”

“No, Carson saw you. He told me about it.”

Elsie put her hand over her face. Of course Carson had told Kye about her crush. Kye had always known.

“The point is,” he went on, mercilessly logical. “I’m your teacher and you’re just a kid. So none of this ever happened. I’m going to chalk it up to you being in shock, and nothing like this will ever happen again. Agreed?”

As if he needed to drag that sort of agreement out of her. He’d just cut her heart to ribbons. Did he really think she would try for another kiss after this?

She’d been so mortified that she’d rushed away from him, ran out of the room, and took refuge in the girls’ bathroom. It was safer to cry there. She sat on the cold tile floor, shivering, and realized she had read Kye wrong all along. He’d never been the slightest bit attracted to her. He didn’t see her as any sort of equal, let alone a love interest. She was a kid to him—a foolish, silly girl who didn’t know when to stop blowing him kisses.

A while later, a policewoman came in looking for her. Elsie gave a statement, numbly repeating what had happened. She was glad she had an excuse for her red eyes. Trauma over the attack. That’s all that was causing her to tremble.

Kye—no,Mr. McBride—must have given the other students on the team some details about what had happened. They were all so sympathetic and kind to her on the trip home, asking her if she was okay and threatening Bono with all sorts of creative amputations should he ever come near her again.

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