Devotion: For Love or Honor, page 2
“Girl, did you check out Mr. Raines this morning. Boy, football does a body good.” I blush at her words similar every morning for the past few days.
“Merrilee someone will hear you.” She waves me off with a laugh. “Can’t you imagine him without those clothes on his fine body?”
I slap her shoulder then proceed to power up the few computers in the room and opening the large blinds over the windows. I stow away my purse and camera bag.
“Mer. Please, I have to spend the next ninety-minutes trying not to look at him.” With fingers waving in the air and a tootles, she has left me, to face my classroom full of seniors and one sexy man I am trying to ignore.
#
Ryan
It is the end of the first week, due to the alternate scheduling it means some weeks I will see Mrs. Stephenson three times as I did this week. But on the other weeks, it will only give me two. I have altered my morning routine from previous years, allowing me the opportunity to watch her every day. I eased into the building the second day of school, with a renewed sense of hope and purpose to my situation and that is because of Mrs. Stephenson; before my eyes met hers I dreaded the next nine months, all of it changed with one simple “Good Morning Mr. Raines.”
It did not take long by the third day of school to establish a pattern of which hall she uses towards her classroom. I was ready. With the last day of the week, the final chance to see her once again before the weekend. I stand in front of a group of lockers while only half-listening to the others around me; my eyes lock in on her making her way through the crowd of teenage student bodies parting for the two prettiest teachers in the school. Where my teammate and friend Shane gawks towards Miss Hargreaves, the senior English teacher, my eyes are only for her companion.
“Good Morning Mrs. Stephenson.” Her cheeks blush, rosy, and warm the moment my words reach her ears above the exuberant noise surrounding us. Her steps faltered, observed by none but me. I can’t help but notice as she passes, receiving an elbow to her ribs from her fellow teacher.
“Good Morning Mr. Raines.” Her words are not near as loud as mine, spoken almost as an afterthought thrown over her shoulder as her slim body passes, taking her further down the hall. It is not until Mrs. Stephenson stops at the door of her classroom when I see the telltale sign of a giggle when Miss Hargreaves gazes down the hall towards me, her lips moving, the sounds drowned out when the first bell rings. The object of my affection shakes her head, swatting her friend away then disappears into the classroom.
I wait with a purpose to position myself to be the final student to enter the room, stepping over the threshold as the tardy bell begins to ring.
“Cutting it close now aren’t we Mr. Raines?” My raised brow and smirk to my lips has my teacher faulting over the sound of my name. Snickering, I take my seat where I attempt to listen for ninety-minutes, unsuccessfully.
“Mr. Raines?”
“Huh.”
Mrs. Stephenson had been lecturing through-out most of the class, while others are taking notes, I preferred to watch her only, to pick up on maybe less than half of what she said.
“Did you hear the question?”
I shake my head. She repeats the question, fortunately for me that is among the less than half of what I did hear. I can answer the question before I zone back out once again, ignoring the girls on either side of me trying to start up a conversation. The bell rings, and before I am can step away from the desk, I hear her voice.
“Mr. Raines, can you stay after class? There is something I need to discuss with you.” I acknowledge her request when all I can imagine is her and me behind a closed door alone. Shit. Ignoring the sounds of my classmates hooting along with their comments; I wait until the door closes out the sounds of the busy hallway.
Not sure what to do I lean against her desk, trying to appear relaxed with my messenger bag slung across my shoulder while I chew on the inside of my mouth, waiting for her full attention. “What's up?” That sounded cool, right? Not like an eighteen-year-old student with a massive crush on his teacher.
“Ryan.” Shit. That is the first time I have heard her say my first name. Crap I hope she repeats it.
“Yes.”
“Where were you today?”
“Here in class.” I retort with a tad too much of unwarranted sarcasm. Her brows furrow, pink lips scrunch in frustration. Shit, I want to kiss those lips.
“I mean, where was your head?” Crap she says head and my mind shifts towards the other little head in an instant. This isn’t going well; if she keeps this up, I will be genuinely embarrassed.
“Mr. Raines, do we have a problem?”
“No mam.” Our eyes hold much longer than acceptable for between teacher and student.
“If there is something I need to know. Am I boring you with the subject?” Her attempt at making a joke dies off bringing to light the possibility of unforeseen insecurity.
“No. The subject is good, and I look forward to your class.” Mrs. Stephenson crosses her arms, directing my attention to her chest, where I should not look especially in our current situation. Her soft pink tongue darts out to moisten her rosy bottom lip and I swear I fight back the urge to curse out loud.
“Then what is the problem? Why are you not paying attention?” Her question is soft, low, and barely above a whisper, us two talking. The words escape before I have the forethought to reign them back in.
“Because all I can do is watch you.”
Chapter 2
Ryan
October
When I left her class that day back in September after I admitted I was crushing on her, we never spoke of it again. She seemed not to call my name in class if I was not paying attention. After the first week I had studied her body with such intensity, I began to listen to her words, instead. Now the hardest part of the entire situation is I have the feeling what I am developing is much more than a high school teacher crush. I wake up each morning wishing, it is a day that I have her class, and not the alternating days of the schedule. The long weeks, the ones where I sit miserably in Calculus instead of Journalism, where I would prefer spending any amount of time listening to Mrs. Stephenson talk about photography.
I have found each morning waiting in the hall until I can spot her walk towards me, to devour her body with my eyes excited to see what she is wearing. On class days, I do make a point to remain in class, busying myself on the practice articles we are writing or on the computer where I edit my photography, anything really to hang back while my classmates file out into the hall giving me a few minutes of uninterrupted time with the teacher. I am not selfish. I will take whatever I can get. Usually, it is a quick conversation provoked by me asking questions about camera techniques, something that gets the girl excited.
The air outside is crisp and refreshing, holding the promise of yet another season of change, leaves crunch underneath the weight of my booted feet making my way across campus from the parking lot. Unable to stop the admiration of the brightly changing trees surrounding me, yellows, oranges and red, that is what Mrs. Stephenson reminds me, of fall; as if she belongs out in nature, hiking among the bright colors with the breeze lifting her soft waves from her pretty face. Her hair, chocolate brown, so shiny that when the sunlight streams through the window in class, it bursts with shiny golden strands whipping through her silky hair until my fingers itch to run them through, to pull it back; tipping her lips up to mine.
I tamp down the visual shifting in my seat when I start; I have difficulty preventing the bulge from showing against the front of my jeans. It happened halfway through class today with Mrs. Stephenson wearing this nice gray skirt hugging her hips, and heels, overhearing one of the girls talking shoes saying they were kitten heels because they make your legs and butt look good. Shit, that about did me in. Then Chad behind me started mentioning something about a naughty librarian thing and leaning her over the desk and lifting that skirt.
Shit, I was trying to hide my reaction the best I could when Katelyn, a girl across from me started to giggle and her eyes got big. Mrs. Stephenson happened to turn at that exact moment, her eyes meeting mine, thankfully she never lowered them to my lap instead locking in our connection, as I call it, lasting several minutes before breaking to announce some assignments.
See, I am never the first to break any eye contact. When it starts, I am helpless to stop until she becomes nervous, shattering the moment, forcing me to look away, and I hate looking at anything but her.
Well, back to my little oh, well large situation, luckily it went down when Chad shut up, and I turned my focus to something else. As the bell rang, I heard my name called as I rose from my desk, checking first to make sure the excitement was over.
“Ryan. May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Sure.” My heart races with a resounding thud, thumping against the hard-muscled wall of my chest with nerves, and our second time to talk alone. I wait until the class has emptied, and the door shut before I move closer to her leaning against the side of her desk. Attempting to look anything but the nervous kid that I am. “What do you need to talk to me about?”
“Um. I don't even know if I should say anything.” Shit. She must have seen. Crap. Now what? I lie to her or tell her what happened and come clean with the truth that yes, I have wet dreams about the married teacher, and hell yes, I am hard half of the time in class just watching her teach. And if I tell her what the idiot Chad said about her in her skirt, then she will never wear it again, and I don’t think I could handle that. But wait, I don’t want anyone else to see her in the skirt either. So maybe I should tell her, then she stops wearing it for anyone but me. Oh crap, my mind took a turn.
She appears to be surprised when I respond. “It’s okay. You can talk to me about anything?”
“You aren’t like the others, are you?” My brow jets up in question. She laughs. “So mature.” She shakes her head, then continues. “Okay. I heard whispering. I could not hear the exact words. But then you looked extremely uncomfortable, and then I saw Katelyn giggling and pointing. Do you want to talk about it? Or do I even want to know?” Her cheeks turn a dusty pink, making me want to reach out and touch them, to run the pad of my thumb tracing over her soft skin.
When her cheeks turn rosy, it is the sexiest thing I believe I have ever seen, and she is hot. I debate telling her the truth, and then I can’t lie to her if I fib, then she will wonder.
“Okay. I normally would not volunteer this information to a teacher. And I don’t know if you want the roundabout version or the dirty details.” Her eyes open wide, jaw drops, and I am having a very non-teacher like image in my head. We, both laugh out loud.
“Do I want to know?” I allow my eyes to graze her body taking in the skirt, the subject of the entire episode. I nod. Yes, she should know if anything maybe not to wear that skirt again.
“It depends. How good is your sense of humor?” She laughs.
“Ryan, tell me. I have a feeling I will be embarrassed anyway with the full version or the other where I go home today, and my imagination runs away with itself, and then I worry when I return to class.” I laugh.
“How do you know it has to do with you?” I counter, arching yet another brow and crossing my arms against my chest fighting the urge to flex a muscle to see if it changes her gaze. I should not have dared myself, but I did, and then I do. I flex my muscles, and I watch the change happen. Her eyes darken, lips part, and I swear I hear a soft whispered moan in the silent room. Shit. I am teasing her, and I am the one who will have trouble walking out of here in a few minutes.
Her words interrupt my wayward thoughts. “I thought I heard you say my name.” Now it is me who is embarrassed. I did say her name, telling Chad to stop talking about her, she is my, my, my what?
“You did. I said your name. Chad made an inappropriate comment, and I was telling him to shut up.” She responds with a look of surprise.
“Oh. You don’t have to do that.”
“Believe me, when I say I did.”
“But why was Katelyn giggling, and pointing to you?”
I rub my hand over the rough stubble on my jaw, as her eyes trace my every movement. I am stalling for time. Man, I hate this never tell a lie thing my dad installed. Sometimes this is so much worse than making up some shit and calling it a day.
“Well. Okay. I am embarrassed and shit it isn’t getting any better. But I was taught not to lie. Can’t start now, and you asked why I have no idea. But I don’t want you feeling insecure at our next class so here goes. And don’t interrupt me until I get all of this out or I won't be able to finish. Okay?”
“Okay.” From the look on her face, I suspect she now doubts her decision to question me in the first place.
“Here it is and remember that you asked.” She giggles. “Chad was talking about you in your skirt, and how you are like the naughty librarian thing and what he wanted to do involved you, that skirt, and the desk.” Her eyes get big. Her lips part into a perfect circle. Shit. I don’t stop. “I told him to shut it. And in the meantime, it gave me a visual.” I raise my eyebrows, glancing down towards my now growing problem, once again behind my zipper, then returning to her eyes until she nods in agreement. “Understand?” She nods once again. I continue. “So, while I am trying to get him to shut up before you hear him, Katelyn realizes my problem, and then begins to laugh and point.”
Mrs. Stephenson breaks out in laughter; a beautiful gut filled, out loud, laughter. Completely not what I expected, anger, embarrassment, tears even but laughter no, never.
“I am so sorry you had to deal with all of that.” Her eyes drift down on purpose, long enough until I feel myself twitch against my zippered constraints. “Thank you for defending me to Chad. He is a pain in the ass, isn’t he?” I nod. “And thanks for telling me the truth, admitting that had to be hard.” The moment the word leaves her lips, she slams her hand across her mouth in embarrassment. We both chuckle at her choice of words.
“Well, I can’t say it was a little problem,” I announce. She giggles. “More of a large one.”
“Stop. Ryan, please stop now because I am having difficulties with images.”
“I have to get to my next class,” I say with reluctance, saddened to see this moment end.
“Okay. Um. This conversation?” Her tongue darts out, licking her bottom lip before she nervously bites the soft pink flesh.
“Just between us,” I reply.
“Good. See you later.”
I turn hating each step I take that brings me further away from her. I have never met a girl I could talk, laugh and joke even about embarrassing stuff. She took it all in stride, and I loved every minute. I can’t resist the opportunity. I wait until my hand reached for the door. “Oh, and Mrs. Stephenson.”
“Yes, Ryan?”
“I really do like you in that skirt.” She blushes, the last thing I see before I leave the classroom counting down the minutes until I can see her again in the morning.
#
Jenny
Easing into the desk chair as the door closes, I feel the heat of mortification flame to my cheeks, and heavy thumping of my racing heart. Shaking my head in disbelief of the possibilities for the classroom disruption, the subject of my skirt not being one of them. Boys, just being boys, right? Right? But Ryan didn’t have to admit to the entire conversation, let alone confessing his reaction to the subject. My cheeks flame when I recall the uncontrollable urge to witness for myself if it was true. Is Ryan Raines attracted to me? A second conversation, behind closed doors, again taking a turn towards a very blurry line. Even admitting it to myself, that I care or am interested is shameful. The door opens, and Merrilee slides in laughing. Shit, she knows.
The expression must be all over my face because she picks up on the situation in a matter of seconds.
“Okay, tell me the dirt.”
“What?”
“Don’t even try pretending. I saw Mr. Raines leave your room long after the tardy bell. Do you want to specify?” Shit. Shit.
“You are never going to believe.” Then I proceed to open my mouth as invisible truth serum flows through my body until I struggle to keep the secret within me as if I am once again a high school girl and the quarterback just told admitted he likes me. I confess all my sins to my best friend, as she stands there speechless, which I can say in all honesty is something Merrilee never does. I watch her perfectly sculpted candy apple red lips open, then close then, begin once again. Her blond head nods then shake then bobs back. These, all new moves for her, never is she perplexed, confused or speechless, all apparent by the deep breaths heaving her much more massive than mine, chest up into the air then down, her expensive demi-bra doing a fantastic job of keeping the girls perfectly balanced against the curves of her body.
Merrilee tilts on one stiletto heel than the other leaving me to wonder what Chad says about all her pencil skirts and tight shirts she wears daily to work while she attempts to catch the eye of the two single coaches or the new science teacher.
“Dang. Jen. I have no clue what to say. I never in a million years would have expected him to admit to the situation.”
“Wait, you are the one who is always telling me he is looking at me.”
“Yes. But I thought it was a senior crush. You know older woman fantasy. But for him to admit he got a hard-on just listening to Chad talk about you, and then he defended you.”
“Yea. I heard him.”
“Wow.”
“Wait, Mer this isn’t good. I. Well. I.” Shit, now I can’t talk.
“Look. Don’t worry. You are a beautiful woman. Heck, you are six years older than him and a good portion of the senior class. The age difference alone doesn’t make this inconceivable for the boys to develop a crush.” Her painted lips press into a thin line. “It isn’t like you and Ryan hooked-up in here, right?" Her perfectly sculpted brows arch. I violently shake my head enough until I worry about the risk of whiplash. Her expression grows serious. “You need to keep the line clear. Jen you and him, cannot be alone in here again.” Violently shaking my head in denial. “Then it is a crush. Just like it has been since school started last month. Just think girl, you only have eight months to go until he graduates.”
