been talking about sexy club vomit guy?”
“Eww. Don’t call him that.”
“Why, Hermione? Why did you not tell me?”
“Because! If I had told you about Sexy Single Dad, you’d just tell me to date him. And I can’t. So I’ve been trying not to think about him. Even though I’m mildly anxious about the fact that he hasn’t tried to ask me out again, even though he’s respecting my wishes. Because what if he’s dating someone else now? I mean, why wouldn’t he? But now I have to think about him because I’m going to see him today and I need you to help me choose something to wear. Something that says, ‘Hi. I’m a responsible teacher who is also an attractive young woman with overpowering physical needs that she can’t satisfy with you right now even though she really, really wants to and hopefully you aren’t satisfying your physical needs with anyone else either.’”
“I could just have that printed on a T-shirt real quick.”
I punch him in the arm. “Is this really going to be the only time in my life that you aren’t going to tell me what to wear to look less teacher-y?”
He claps his hands together, waking up my dog. “Nope. I’m on it. My brain has caught up. I just need more information. Where are you going, and do you mean you can’t kiss him or you can’t kiss him during sex, like a prostitute?”
“You know what? Never mind. I’ll just wear a beige cardigan and khaki pants.”
He gasps. “You shut your mouth, little girl. You will wear a pretty skirt and you will like it.”
“A pretty skirt? Really? You don’t think that’s too ‘please put your hand between my legs when the kids aren’t looking?’”
He scoffs. “Well, I don’t know, Miss Stiles. Is it?” He reaches inside my closet and pulls out a billowy, ankle-length skirt that I’d forgotten I had.
Yessss. “Franklin Baldwin, you’re a genius.”
“Right? Covers your legs, but it’s playful and you always have the option of pulling it up and spreading your legs when the kids aren’t looking.”
Noooo. “Franklin, you’re a dirty bird.”
“Well, one of us has to be.”
Yes. Franklin, you’re right. It’s my turn. But not yet.
Getting my students to calm down for half an hour prior to getting on a bus to the Griffith Observatory has been about as successful as my attempts at not picturing Alex Vega bending me over my desk and drilling me. I wonder if my second-grade teacher Mrs. Norbert was having secret dirty thoughts while teaching us about long and short u sounds. Or maybe I should just marry a nice, quiet, bald guy like Mr. Norbert so I can focus more on my career and don’t accidentally write out very bad examples of words that feature a short u sound.
There’s a knock at my classroom door, and I see the sweet face of Miguel’s mom smiling through the small window. She’s the other volunteer chaperone for this field trip, and I’m so grateful to have another adult around, one who doesn’t make me want to lick said adult’s face or run away crying because I can’t.
I tell the kids that I’m going to be right outside for a minute, grab my field trip folder, and step out into the hall. “Hello, Mrs. Torres.”
“Hello, Miss Stiles. I hope I am not late. Traffic on Sunset is very bad this morning.”
“You’re not late at all; we’re still on schedule. And please call me Emilia.”
But then I glance down the hall and see a tall, broad-shouldered figure headed toward us, and I’m already salivating.
Fuuuuck.
I should have worn at least three pairs of panties today, but I thought for sure I’d be able to control my body’s reactions with fifteen amped-up kids around. Or at least my mind’s. Even from forty feet away, the sight of him in a white button-down shirt and fancy jeans makes my knees give out just a little. I lean back against the closed door for support and rifle through the many papers in my folder, trying to find a printout, so I don’t have to look at him.
Hang in there, cotton boyshorts. We’ve got a long half-day ahead of us.
“I am very excited to go to the observatory. We have never been there.”
“I haven’t been there yet either. Everyone’s excited this morning.”
Especially my cervix, apparently.
“I’m here,” Alex Vega says as he stops to stand next to Mrs. Torres.
As if my entire being wasn’t completely aware of this.
He holds out his hand to