Bad Teacher
She’s just as beautiful as ever with her red bob, which now fades to blue at the bottom. But her physical appearance isn’t what attracts me the most. It’s her spirit. Her will to live and to defy everything and everyone around her.
All this time, I was searching for something—something to make me feel alive—and I found it in her. I was so afraid to love because I’d only known a love that was slipping away. But Hailey … she’s wanted me since the day I met her. Never once did she give up. She was never afraid to love, even when she’d felt it so little from others.
I’m no longer afraid. I’m no longer stumbling in and out of her arms.
She was mine from the beginning.
We weren’t falling.
We were running to each other.
Just as we are now.
With a smug smile, I approach her as she picks up her drink and takes a sip, casually eyeing my body from top to bottom and back. When our eyes lock, she puts her drink down on the table and smiles cheekily.
“Hey,” I say. “Used your fake ID, I see.”
“Hi.” She giggles, a blush appearing on her cheeks. “It still comes in useful.”
“How are you? Been up to something good since leaving college?”
“Yeah … just work and stuff. Not much else.”
I narrow my eyes. “So that whole business thing you were talking about?”
“Not yet,” she says, chuckling. “But I’ll get there, eventually. And you?”
“Same,” I say. “Still looking for that perfect job.”
“Ahh … look, I’m sorry about—”
“Don’t be,” I interrupt. “We both lost something. And maybe gained something new …” The left side of my lip tips up into a smile.
“Hmm … true. I never thanked you for doing what you did.”
“What?”
“With my mom’s boyfriend and all …” She shrugs.
I shake my head. “Don’t mention it. Really. That asshole deserved what he had coming. And besides, I needed to make things right.”
She smiles. “I know. I just wanted to thank you.”
It grows quiet again, but then she asks, “I hope it’s not keeping you up at night.”
“What? That I put a man in jail?”
“Yeah.”
“Nope. Not even one bit.”
“And your other nightmares?”
My forehead creases for a second, but then I relax. “Haven’t had them in a while.”
“Really? Well, at least you got that going for ya …”
I place a hand on her arm. “It’s because of you that I no longer have them.”
Her brows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“Other dreams have replaced the nightmares,” I whisper. “And by other dreams, I mean filthy ones about a certain bad student …” I wriggle my eyebrows, making her roll her eyes and playfully slap me.
“Oh, stop,” she says, chuckling.
I shrug it off. “It’s the truth.”
“Well, I’m happy for you, even if I feel a little creeped out. It’s just damn shitty you had to lose your job over me.”
“No, it’s not your fault,” I say.
Her face scrunches up, like she’s thinking about something all of the sudden. “You know, maybe we could start up that business together. Then we’d both be doing something worthwhile.”
I frown but then think about it … “That’s not even a bad idea.”
“Oh.” She laughs. “It was just a random thought.”
“No, I like it.” I smile, and she smiles back, but then our conversation grows quiet again.
“Awkward,” she muses.
“It doesn’t have to be.” I grin and hold out my hand. “Want to dance?”
Her brows lift and she grabs my hand, so I gently tug her along to the dance floor. I place my hand on her waist and put hers on my shoulder as we start to dance to the music.
“It feels so strange to be here again with you,” she says.
“Strange good, or strange bad?”
“Both.” She lifts her shoulders, smiling devilishly.
“So let’s just start again.” I pull her close. “Let’s pretend we’re strangers.”
“Strangers?” She snorts. “Right.”
“Yeah. Do I know you? Because I would love to.”
She laughs, and it’s the most delightful thing I’ve heard in a long time. “All right, mister.”
“Oh, I like it when you call me that.” I swoop her off her feet and twirl her around. “But my name is Thomas. Thomas Hard. Pleasure to meet you.”
She rolls her eyes when I raise my brow at her. “Fine, my name is Hailey Walters, but you knew that already.”
“And I’ll want to know it every damn day of the week,” I murmur, whisking her close. “Tell me, Miss, do you like to play games?”
“Depends on what kind of game,” she whispers.
“Dangerous games. Except this time … I’m not your teacher, and you’re not my student. And we can do whatever we want … whenever we want. Exactly the way we want it.”
“Does that mean I have a say in things too?” she jests.
“Depends on the situation.” I grab her ass and squeeze. “Because you should know something about me, and that’s the fact that I like dishing out orders to naughty girls.”