“Good to hear. Grab yourself a drink and mingle.”
She took off, already talking to someone else before I could respond. Glancing around for Mark, I saw him standing by the bar, talking with the English teacher, Gary. I slipped out the door, trying to remember where the bathroom was from last week.
After I’d finished, I headed back toward the patio. Passing what looked like a living room, I heard the unmistakable sounds of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds playing. I stopped and smiled.
God, I wish I was in there watching movies instead of trying to impress a bunch of strangers. I pushed the door open and ventured inside.
Wrenn sat sprawled out on a large leather recliner. Her eyes widened when she saw me. She sat upright, straightening her skirt. My eyes were drawn to her bare calves as she tucked them under her thighs.
“Mr. Reid,” she said, her lips curving into a smile. She pointed to the TV. “Sorry, is it too loud?”
I jumped at the sound of her voice, forcing myself to focus on her face.
Great, now I feel like a creep.
But I was a twenty-three-year-old guy, and she was a pretty teenage girl who was only a few years younger than me. It was in my DNA to appreciate that.
“No, not at all,” I replied, stepping further into the room. “And call me Dalton. We’re not in class. Anyway, I was just passing, and I had to see who was watching one of my favorite movies.”
“You’re a Hitchcock fan?” She grinned, her face lighting up.
“More of a classic horror film buff,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the leather armchair nearest to the door.
“Really? So am I. Nothing better than a horror movie that actually focuses on the story, you know? All the horror flicks these days seem to just be slash, blood, and gore.” She shuddered and shook her head.
I laughed. She was right. Horror films today had nothing on their older counterparts; it just wasn’t an argument I was used to hearing from someone under the age of fifty.
“So, I didn’t realize you were going to be here,” I said casually. There was really no polite way of asking her what the hell she was doing here.
She blushed. “Layna is my aunt. I live with her. That’s why I’m at this school,” she explained.
“Wow, I didn’t know that,” I said.
Wrenn looked at me strangely.
“My mom and Layna are old friends. They went to school together,” I explained.
“Then your mom probably knew my mom,” she said quietly. Her eyes dropped.
I’d obviously hit a nerve, and I noticed her use of past tense when talking about her mom. What happened?
“So, how do you like it here? A bit of a change from what you’re used to?” she asked, a less than subtle change of subject.
I laughed. “Different is an understatement. I thought I knew what to expect. Honestly, the reality is so much worse,” I said. “I’d forgotten how many hormones teenage girls have.”
And there was something to add to my list of things not to say to my teenage student.
“Forgotten?” she teased. “Weren’t you just in college, like, last year? Didn’t they have teenage girls there?” She bit her lip to keep from smiling, her green eyes sparkling.
“You’re right, but it wasn’t my job to control them,” I said, laughing.
“Yes, and they seem to go even crazier all cooped up in boarding school.” She rolled her eyes. “This is my outlet,” she added, gesturing to the TV. “Horror movies. It’s a good escape. And often less scarier than reality,” she quipped.
“If you like this you should try and get your hands on Dawn of the Dead. That’s one of the best horror movies of all time,” I said, ignoring how nerdy I sounded.
“Thanks for the tip,” she said with a grin. “You better get back.” She pointed to the door, her eyes piercing me. “They’ll come looking for you.”
“Yeah. I should,” I muttered. Even though I’d much rather stay in here. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday?”