Eighteen: 18

“It’s too hot here,” I say. “I’m used to the cold.”

“And she had on some ripped jeans and black Chucks,” he says, picking up one of my shoes and waving it for a second. “Her long brown hair was fanning out behind her, blowing in the wind. And she was walking across the bridge over the 5 like she was the boss of the world.”

I chuckle at that image.

“Like she was daring it to come mess with her, she had a lesson to teach it. You told me you felt invisible when that girl spoke to you in Spanish, right? Like she talked to you before, but she never saw you. And that day it was all too much. She missed it. She missed everything that made you you. But she didn’t talk to you in Spanish because she missed you, Shannon. You’re an unmissable girl. You’re a fucking explosion in a bottle waiting to happen. People talk to you because they can’t help but see you.”

“You’re stupid.”

“Anyway, back to my story about that girl. I swear to God, I got up off my porch and I followed her. She didn’t go far, just over the bridge to the burger place. And I know Jose, so I went over and by the time I got there, she was sitting at a table in the back, waiting for her food. I ordered a burger too, and sat near the front, facing her, so I could get a better look. And I noticed that she dropped her bossy attitude with Jose when he came with her meal. She liked him, I could tell. He’s married, has a pot belly and was covered in grease, so I figured that she considered him a friend and was not interested in fucking him on the table.”

“Jesus, Mateo. Please. I don’t need that visual.”

“And I thought to myself, I need to be her friend. I never missed you, Shannon. I saw you immediately and I wanted to be your friend.”

I smile at that. So much better than I need to fuck her in a classroom.

“She ate, walked home. I followed behind, watched her go back into the apartment. So I went through the gate and saw her exit on the other side of the pool where the alley was. And when I got to the alley, she was gone. Just poof, disappeared.”

“I was already on my patio.”

“Right. And then I got this call from Bowman the next day asking me did I want a job teaching trig to a student who needed to make up a credit in order to graduate. He told me the whole credit situation and I was like, shit, I dunno. I have this dissertation to write. I don’t think I have time. But he said just stop by school on January fourth and I could meet you. He told me you needed help. Like, really needed help. He told me about your sister and Jason. The kid, all of it.”

“What a dick. I hate people talking about me.”

“So I dropped by and I came in just as you sat down to talk. And I swear to God, I lost my breath when I realized you were her. So I took the job and I promised Bowman I’d help you.” He smiles at me and I might just fall in love. “But I heard you begging to get out of the class and I decided to make you mine and make you learn at the same time.”

“It’s pretty unorthodox. We could get caught.”

“Do we care, Shannon? Do we care if we get caught?”

“I don’t think so,” I answer, chuckling.

“I don’t give a fuck if we get caught, obviously. But I do give a fuck if you don’t graduate. So I hope we don’t until you finish the work. I’d never forgive myself if I fucked up your graduation.”

“Then why risk it?”

“Because I saw Danny Alexander sitting next to you in the office. And he was looking at you the same way I was. And there was no way I’d let him have you. No fucking way.”

“I saw you that day too.”

“Yeah?” He smiles. And if I’m not mistaken, he looks like he really needs to know what I thought of him. My stomach flutters and I start to see things differently.

“You had that leather jacket on and those fuck-hot biker boots. I think I stopped breathing for a second.”

“And then you saw me in the classroom and wanted to fall to your knees and kiss the ground, thanking God for your good fortune?”

“Yeah.” I laugh. “That’s exactly how it happened.”

“And when I pushed my leg against yours, you pulled away. And when I did it again, you let me.”

“I didn’t know what to do!”

“And you went on and on about how you weren’t smart and I thought to myself, That’s fucked up. Because obviously no one in your past wanted to take the time to set you straight. So I made it my mission to teach you a lesson.”

“I’m smart.”

“You’re smart. You passed geometry by taking a bet. You aced a final exam, for fuck’s sake. Don’t sell yourself short, Shannon. You can do trig. Hell, you can do calculus too, if you set your mind to it.”

“Well, I’m not sure I agree with your methods, Mr. Alesci, but I do agree with your assessment.”

He laughs and leans over to kiss me. I get lost in that moment. I get stranded there on the beach with him like we’re alone on a deserted island, drifting in a sea of stars.

He slips an arm under me, bringing me closer, our mouths never parting as we fill the need inside us. The kiss is slow and soft. It’s not about the taboo romance we’re having. It’s not about the shock value. It’s not about lessons learned or the future.

It’s just about right now.

We stop kissing and take a moment to see each other. Like really see each other. “Are you hungry?” he asks.

“Starving,” I say. “But not just for food.”

“Let’s go eat.”

We rise and I help him fold the blanket back up. And this time when he takes hold of my hand, I let him.

We walk back to the car, put his backpack in the trunk, and he points to the shops at the end of the street. “I know a place.”

I bet he does. He seems to know everything.

He pulls out and we make our way onto Pacific Coast Highway going south, and a few miles later he pulls into a restaurant valet and two men approach our car and pull open our doors.

“Good evening, Mr. Alesci,” the one on his side says.

“Ma’am,” the one on my side says.

I barely manage a, “Thank you,” as I exit the car and wait at the curb, while Mateo talks into the other valet’s ear and hands him some cash. He pats him on the back and walks over to me, taking my hand.

“Ready?” he asks, weaving us through a crowd of people waiting to get inside.

“What’s going on here?”

“Just don’t look up.”

Of course I look up. And see the name of the restaurant above the door. “Alesci’s Laguna Beach?”

“Whatever you do, don’t show fear.”

“Mateo—”

But an older woman interrupts me. She places her hands on his cheeks and spills out something in Italian. He blushes. I laugh. And then he’s talking in Italian a mile a minute as the woman takes me in and gives me a very suspicious look.

“Mom—”

Jesus Christ. You have got to be kidding me. Mateo’s mother is tall and thin, wearing a designer suit and diamonds everywhere I look. Her hair is a rich mahogany brown, her makeup is perfect, her shoes probably cost more than, well, everything I own, plus a few thousand dollars more, and she smells like a very expensive bottle of perfume.