I frowned, the straight line of my lips showing that everything was indeed not straight.
How dare he? After what he’d just done to that other girl, after what he’d just found out...how fucking dare he try anything with me? Awful, no good, rotten, cheating bastard.
Opening my case, I slid out my pile of notes. Blood seethed through my veins as I shuffled through them without a clue as to what I was actually looking at. Then, calmly, I stood in front of the room, my hands curling around the notes as I watched seat after seat fill until it looked as if everyone was present.
Noel sat low in his chair, his eyes closed, and his face in his hands as he rested his elbows on the desk. It was more than obvious news of his fatherhood was bothering him. Well, I decided that clearly wasn’t enough for him to worry about.
Cramming my notes back into my case, I clicked it shut and rested my hands on
top.
“In Nathaniel Hawthorne’s work, The Scarlet Letter,” I started, with my chin high, “the protagonist, Hester Prynne, has to wear a red letter A on her clothes to show everyone she committed adultery and had a child out of wedlock. She became an outcast for the rest of her life. While her lover, who committed the very same act, got off scot-free because she refused to name him. But even though he lived out a life of good reputation, he ended up driving himself insane and dying from the guilt. Mr. Gamble.” I lifted my voice and shot him a hard stare. “Which do you think is worse?”
His jerked his head up from where he obviously hadn’t been paying attention to anything I’d just said. Eyes ravaged with torment, he croaked, “What?” Then he glanced around and turned back to me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The Scarlet Letter,” I reminded him. “Nathaniel Hawthorne. The woman sleeps with her minister and gets pregnant. She’s publicly scorned for three hours, then thrown in jail, and then forced to wear the letter A to show her shame to everyone for the rest of her life. Or her lover. The local minister she refused to indict. He comes away with a clean reputation but can’t handle all the guilt. So...which character do you think had it worse? Would you rather everyone know what you did and hate you for it, but end up with a fairly clean conscious? Or would you prefer to hide it and let it fester, where you always worried about it coming to light, and were always ashamed to know someone else paid for the very crime you committed?”
His face lost all color as his mouth fell open. But he had nothing to say. He stared at me hard for a good twenty seconds, and torment filled his eyes, before he blinked rapidly and shook his head. “I...I thought we were starting on Tennessee Williams today.”
Around us, the class tittered, and my face filled with red, hot shame.
Dear God. What the hell was I doing? This had to be the most unprofessional, immature thing I’d ever attempted. If I was upset with Noel for something, trying to take it out on him in the classroom was the worst thing I could possibly do. Feeling sick to my stomach with my own shame, I glanced away and brought the back of my hand to my mouth as I tried to pull my dignity back in around me.
It didn’t work. Drawing in a deep breath, I lifted my face, trying not to bawl. “Very good, Mr. Gamble,” I said, my voice raspy with emotion. I nodded once. “I guess you were paying attention after all.”
Though everyone else let out an amused chuckle, Noel just kept staring at me as if I’d betrayed him.
Still too rattled to continue class, I fluttered out my hand. “I still expect you all to have The Glass Menagerie finished by the end of next week. So today, I’m giving you the rest of the hour to find a nice quiet corner to read. We’ll continue our classroom discussions on Thursday.”
For a beat, no one moved as if they thought I was teasing them. I wasn’t one of those teachers who let class out early, but today, there was no way I could stand up here the entire hour.
Not bothering to wait on them, I yanked up my briefcase and streaked toward the exit. Behind me, I heard them finally begin to gather their things, but I didn’t wait around as I usually did. Like Hawthorne’s minister, I had my own guilt to nurture.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
~NOEL~
What the hell had just happened?
I was already in a fuck-tacular mood. The call I’d just received had flipped my world upside down.
I’d woken up this morning, planning on being the perfect student in Aspen’s class and being playful and cute and shit so she’d stop resisting me. I’d even found the perfect quote to make her smile. But then all hell had broken loose, and it had taken everything I’d had to even look at her in all her stunning glory while my guts felt like they were being jerked up toward my tonsils.
She’d called my name while I was in the middle of deliberating whether I should go home and try to help clean up some of the mess my sister had made. But Jesus, how were we going to raise another kid in that place? Caroline would be eighteen soon. Maybe I could bring her out to Ellamore with me. Except the idea of leaving Colton and Brandt alone made me cringe.
Then Aspen happened. I have no clue what had changed between Saturday night and this morning, but this was not the woman I’d kissed goodbye on her front porch. That woman was warm and receptive and could send me to my knees with her smile alone. But this woman...fuck, I don’t know. But I was going to find out what her fucking deal was.
As she raced from the room as soon as she dismissed us, I grabbed my things and followed in hot pursuit.
“Hey!” I called. But there were still too many people around. I wasn’t sure if she ignored me for propriety’s sake or because she was just that pissed. Clenching my jaw, I followed. She hit a stairwell that led up to the top floor where the offices were kept. We left the students behind and as soon as we reached the landing, I grabbed her arm.
She whirled around, glaring at me. So I glared back and yanked open the first door I saw. It ended up being a supply closet. Perfect. I shoved her inside.
“What do you think you’re doing? Stop manhandling me.”
After making sure we were good and locked inside, I came around slowly. “We are going to talk about this.”