Playing Chase (Against The Wall) (4 page)

Shelly nods her head. “You’re right. I guess it’s a good thing Tiffany knows before he starts to wear her down.”

“You know, I don’t think we have to worry about her falling for his shit. She’s seriously all business. I’d invite her out for a drink with us, but I think she’d be offended,” I explain.

Mel wears a twisted expression. “Boring,” she says in a singsong tune. “Whatever you say, Summer. Let’s forget about little Miss Tiffany and go grab a beer.”

Shelly throws both of her hands in the air like she just landed a jump off a balance beam. “It’s the first Friday of the month, bitches
.”

Yes, it is—which means it’s group date night. Dean and I head out with the two married couples at the beginning of every month. The grandparents watch the kids
, and we head out for dinner and to the brewery.

It always feels like Dean and I are practicing for the real thing. Our wedding will be here before I know it. The thought of Dean melts my insides
, and I can’t help but be grateful that Chase cheated on me, because if he wasn’t such a dick, I would’ve never met the most beautiful man—on the inside and out—I have ever known in my life.

This perfect man is going to be my husband soon.

Very soon.

The first four periods were like waiting for a pot of water to boil. Scratch that. Worse than waiting for a pot of water to boil
, because while you wait, you can at least do something else. I was tempted to take my phone out of my pocket and play Candy Crush. I usually refuse to play those games that my friends constantly poke and nag me to play, but it was that bad.

Tiffany’s teaching skills are boring with a capital frickin’ B.

I thought my students were going to kill me. Some of them kept looking back at me with puppy dog eyes pleading with me to put them out of their misery. Others just flat-out fell asleep. The inventive ones hid the cords of their ear buds in their clothes and hair so they could at least drown out the monotone voice of my student teacher.

When the bell finally rang for lunch, Tiffany waved at the students who fled so quickly many of them were still shoving things in their backpacks on the way out.

Now, I can’t help wiping the sleep from my own eyes while I try to gather my thoughts before I sit down with her to debrief. This can’t end well.

She doesn’t say a word. Maybe she knows.

“That went well, don’t you think?” she asks, setting her sandwich down at my desk.

Maybe
, not.

I glance in her direction, watching her make herself comfortable in my seat. I scoot around her to reach my fridge and snag my lunch.

I guess I’m sitting in her regular station.

“Well, Mr. Marino? What did you think?” She watches me, waiting for a reply. Her smile fades when I don’t immediately respond. “Was I bad?”

The words still don’t come to me.

“Really?” she whines. “I was awful?” Her full lips pull together in a tight line and instantly, I feel like an ass.

“Not awful.” I take a bite of my sandwich. “Just a bit…dry.” The peanut butter sticks to the roof of my mouth and I think of the worst part of the day. Tiffany tried to make jokes that went right over the kids’ heads. She paused, waiting for laughter that never came.

As dry as the Sahara
, like my peanut butter.

“Dry?” she questions, a look of disgust on her face. “As in boring? Am I boring, Chase?”

That she just called me by my first name, for maybe the second time since we’ve met, is not lost on me. I can see the hurt in her eyes. She’s looking for approval, but it’s not something I can easily give her. Not after what I witnessed today. But something pulls at my chest and I can’t stop myself from trying to make her feel better. I can’t be the one responsible for making the tears well up in her eyes. I’ve made enough of the women in my life cry, and if there is something that I have learned from living with my dad again, is that I can’t be that guy. Not anymore.

Then again, Tiffany really isn’t in my life. Not like the others. She’s my colleague. Nothing else. Even so, I can’t look into those big brown eyes and continue to let her hurt.

“Look, the hardest part is over. Teaching is a learning experience. It gets better every day and even gets better from class to class. Now I know what we need to work on. I bet the next two periods will go a lot smoother.”

Tiffany’s frown is still evident, but I do see a glimpse of hope.

For the rest of our lunch period, I give Tiffany a pep talk. I even talk her out of her suit jacket. Yes. She is wearing a pantsuit for her first day of teaching. I almost died when she walked in this morning. I’d wanted to get her out of that thing all day—but it was strictly business. Jesus, I didn’t want to see her naked or anything, I just wanted the students to feel comfortable around her. I didn’t want them to feel like the principal was their teacher for the day.

Tie Thursday is the only day I get formal. The goofy guys in my department thought it would be fun to wear a tie once a week. Some of our students have jumped on the tradition as well. But even then, I wear my button up shirt and tie with a nice pair of Dockers and my Converse. I’m not about to wear dress shoes to work.

My pep talk must have worked because for the next two periods, Tiffany isn’t so bad. She knows her social studies, that’s for sure. So the discussions with the students come naturally, and this group actually gets some of her jokes.

I watch her as she paces each row of students slowly, stopping every once and awhile to tap a kid on the shoulder to get him or her focused. Not bad, Ms. Gutierrez. Not bad at all.

With my chin in my hand, I observe her skills. The gentle sway of her hips as she saunters back to the board
; the sweet pitch of her voice when a student answers a question correctly, and when she gets excited. The funny way she talks with her hands wildly moving in every direction. The cute way she puts her index finger to her mouth when she stops to consider something. And that mouth…those full lips are meant to be kissed. Meant to be sucked on. There’s a tug in the corner of my mouth as I smile at the thought of kissing Tiffany. And a tug in my pants too.

Shit. What the hell, Chase. This isn’t what you’re here for. You’re here to teach her, not ogle her and fantasize about her.

Fuck.

Tiffany stands by the door and chats with the kids as they leave, a much better farewell than earlier in the day. The smile spread widely across her face is perfect. The fool in me grins wildly just watching her happiness.

When the last student leaves, I stand to congratulate her. The door closes and she flies across the room and into my arms.

I catch her with a grunt. Oh shit.

“That was awesome, wasn’t it?”

I tense at her touch, and she slides down my body.

“Oh my god. I don’t know what I was thinking,” she says, backing away quickly. “I’m so sorry. I was just so excited. I could totally feel the difference from this morning. It was more relaxed and a lot more fun.” She keeps rattling on while I try to catch my breath. Talk about being caught off guard. This whole afternoon, I’ve done little other than think of what it would be like to touch her
, and when I finally do, I freeze like a thirteen-year-old boy at his first junior high dance. I’d like to think I’m much smoother now, but apparently not. Although, smooth moves or not, this can’t happen. Tiffany is sweet and beautiful and deserves a man who will treasure her. I could treasure her, no doubt—but I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.

“I did better, didn’t I?” she asks, her smile starting to fade. Dammit. I hurt her again and that’s the last thing I want to do.

I shake my head free of my thoughts and flash her my biggest smile. I rush to my fridge and take out a surprise. “Here.”

She catches the can like a pro. “What’s this? You bought me a Mountain Dew?”

“I always try to give the kids candy when they do a good job, so I bought a 12-pack for moments like these.” I watch her as she pulls the tab on the can and takes a long gulp of her favorite drink. “You did great. I could tell you were having fun. Just remember, if you’re bored, the students will be bored too, so just pick up the energy, know your material, and you’re set. You really did a one-eighty there. I’m proud of you.”

“This is so sweet of you,” she gushes, looking at her soda like I just bought her a piece of jewelry.

“You had me worried this morning. After your rough start, I thought I was going to have to start drinking them myself.” I crack up at my joke as her jaw drops. 

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” She chuckles. “You’re pretty good at this teaching thing. Why did you decide to be a teacher?”

The question makes me smile. “Want some pudding?” I ask her as I dig into my fridge.

“That’s a dumb question. The answer is always yes when it comes to chocolate.”

I toss her a Snack Pack and take a seat on top of my desk. She slides into a student desk in front of me.

“I didn’t always want to be a teacher. I thought I might get into law enforcement or become a rock star.” I picture myself in my room standing on my bed using my TV remote as a microphone. “I used to play a mean air guitar. I thought I could sing too until one of friends turned off the background music
, and I heard my voice without Axel Rose as a backup. I was awful.”

She laughs so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes.

“It wasn’t that funny. Watch it or I won’t share my pudding with you anymore.” I wink at her.

“Sorry. Carry on.” She waves her hand in the air.

“So anyway, when I was in high school and my parents divorced, I kind of lost my way. One of my teachers sat me down and told me I was acting like a jerk and asked me why. At the time, my mom was so wrapped up in my dad cheating, and my dad was so wrapped up in himself, that they didn’t know what the hell I was up to. This teacher was the first to ask how I was doing. The first person that cared. I was grateful that I had someone to help me get back on track, academically anyway. I was still a jerk in some other ways.”

“That’s really nice. I love hearing stories like that. So you had a mentor and it made you want to be that person who cared for someone else, right?”

“Something like that?” I scoop out my last bite of pudding and savor the taste.

“Do you still talk to this teacher? Did you ever tell him he inspired you to teach?”

The grin on my face says it all, because she smiles right back. “Yup. It was Mr. Morris. Charlie. He’s the one who made me into the teacher I am today.”

“That’s awesome. I’m really glad I’m working with you. Even more so now after hearing that story.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone. I might lose my reputation as a hardass.” I stand up and hold out my hand for her trash. She gives it to me and I toss it in the basket. I’m about to ask her why she became a teacher, but my phone vibrates in my pocket so I take it out and view the message.

Ready for date #1? Hope you like her. Or are you going to punk out?

I wish I could scream. Instead I toss my phone on my desk with a groan.

“Fuck!”

“Whoa.” Tiffany reminds me that she’s in the room. “Bad news?”

“My ex.”

“Which one?”

I whip around, giving her a hard glare. “Excuse me?”

“I’m sorry.” She holds up her hands, waving me off. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No. What did you mean by that?” I ask. Clearly, she knows more about me than what I’ve shared with her.

Tiffany takes a deep breath before mumbling, “I just heard you’ve been with a lot of ladies. A few here at this school too.”

“And who told you that?” I continue to question her even though I know damn well who told her.

“Your ex.” She clears her throat. “I mean your exes,” she corrects herself, emphasizing the plural.

“Well, I’m sure you heard an earful and think I’m a total ass. That’s just fine. You’re probably better off thinking that anyway. I
am
an ass.” How we can go from having a perfect afternoon to this angry volley of snaps back and forth, only pisses me off even more.

“You don’t have to be.” Tiffany stares at her black pumps, sweeping some dirt around with her toe. “What’s your ex texting you for anyway?”

Shit. Don’t remind me. Another groan creeps up my throat. “Shelly, Summer, and Melissa, all of whom I’m sure you’ve met, are trying to pay me back for all the wrongdoings of my past. They are setting me up with some random girls from an online dating service.”

“Why are you going?” Her expression softens, bringing back the happy woman from
before.

“I have no fucking clue.” I scrub my hands over my face. “At first, I just wanted to mess with them and play their little game. Now, I guess I feel like it’s my fucked up chance to apologize for hurting them. Maybe it will make them feel better to make me feel like shit. If it does, I’m okay with that.”