Page 38

I don’t have many regrets in life.

I mean, sure, should I have avoided dying my hair blond in my junior year?

Yes. Do I wish that I didn’t wear that acid-washed jean jacket on picture day two years in a row?

Of course. Were the three martini shots, two glasses of wine, and five tequila shots necessary on my twenty-first birthday? Absolutely not.

But in the grand scheme of life, those are no big deal.

Small fries, really.

The only thing I should regret is allowing the man I’m seeing, the man I’m sleeping with, the man I’m reluctantly—and uncontrollably—falling head over heels for, to come along on a field trip with my class.

“Miss Pierce’s class!” I clap two times and yell out to the busy bus filled with tiny feet, happy chatter, and carefree giggles. “I know we are excited, but can we please get some bubbles in our mouths?”

Like magic, all my little ones puff up their cheeks and the noise dies down.

“Great job, friends,” I compliment them before I go over the field trip instructions for the thousandth time.

“Now, remember in class that everyone was assigned a buddy and a number? If you look up”—I point to the numbers above the seats—“you’ll see a number.

When you see your number, that’s where you and your buddy will be sitting on our way to the pumpkin patch and on the ride back to school. Show me one finger if you understand.”

Little arms shoot into the air, all showing me the number one.

Perfect.

“Okay then.” I clap once this time around. “Let’s get to our seats so we can hit the road.”

The noise picks up again, but when I see everyone getting to their correct seats, following directions, and keeping their hands to themselves, I let it go. It’s a field trip, after all; they’re supposed to be talking with their friends. It’s part of the fun.

Once my students are all settled, I turn my focus to the five parent volunteers tagging along with us today.

“Alright, now parents.” I smile at them all…well, almost them all. “First I want to thank you again for tagging along with us today. I know this can be overwhelming, but I can’t tell you how much it means to the kids to have you here today.

“As you just heard, all of the students have been assigned a buddy, so your child will not be sitting with you. It’s easier for everyone if they are paired with a classmate, then once we’re at the pumpkin patch, you will each have your own group of buddies.

For the bus ride, I’d appreciate it if you could help me with my zone defense.

” I point to the strategic rows I left open when assigning the kiddos their numbers.

“I’ll be sitting up front so I can talk to our bus driver, Mr. Johnson, but if two could sit in the back, two could sit in the middle, and one could join me at the front, that’d be wonderful. ”

“I get carsick on buses, so I’ll take the front.” Luke beats the other parents to the punch and slides into the seat where my backpack is sitting. “If that’s okay with Miss Pierce, of course.”

“Of course.” My smile is painful, and I wonder if any of the other parents can see straight through me. “That’d be great, Mr. Miller.”

“Oh, please. Mr. Miller is my dad.” He waves me off, and the devilish smirk I’m becoming too accustomed to tugs on the corner of his mouth. “Please, call me Luke.”

“Luke, got it.” It’s too bad I have to be a good example because I really want to kick him right now. “Thank you.”

I don’t think we could be more obvious, but the other parents seem to be completely unfazed by us as they walk down the aisle and settle into the seats on the bus.

“You know”—I sit down beside him, careful to leave extra space between us—“there’s an open seat over there if you think that’d help with your motion sickness.”

“Motion sickness.” He chuckles to himself. “I’ve never had motion sickness in my life. Suckers.”

“You’re going to be a bigger problem than the kids, aren’t you?”

I don’t know why I’m shocked. I knew this was going to be the case when I woke up to a text from him this morning saying he couldn’t wait to “roll around in the hay” with me.

If I hadn’t already used so many of my sick days, I would’ve called out right then and there.

I don’t know how I’m going to manage spending an entire day next to this man, pretending my legs don’t quiver and my stomach doesn’t do flips anytime I’m near him.

“Maybe…” He glances over his shoulder to make sure nobody is around before he rests his hand on my knee, and his voice drops to a whisper. “I missed you this morning.”

“I missed you too.”

Since Jacqueline had to leave town this week, she kept Isla until yesterday when she dropped her off at school. This meant that I’ve had full custody of Luke and boy oh boy, did we take advantage of it.

We woke up early on Monday morning and grabbed a coffee before we had to be at work. He sat in my living room, inspecting my wall art and asking questions while I got ready for school. Then I had to reapply my makeup and fix my hair after I walked out of my room and he got a good look at me.

He’d meet me at my place when he got off of work, bringing dinner with him until I insisted I’d cook. We’d sit on my couch, eating and going over our days until we’d eventually make our way over to his house for the night so I could snuggle Mister Bubbles.

And maybe so we could take advantage of his king-size bed.

It was only a few days, but when I had to climb into my bed last night, I didn’t find the joy it usually brings.

The quilt I’ve always loved so much pales in comparison to being held tight in Luke’s arms, his face nestled into my hair.

I may not believe in finding a person to complete me, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t felt like the perfect fit.

“Jacqueline doesn’t get back until Monday night, but Isla was asking to go to The Barkery this weekend.” His hand bounces with the bumpy road, but it never leaves my leg. “Would you want to meet us there? Maybe we could take some of the dogs for a walk and sneak in a picnic.”

“You want to walk dogs and have a picnic with me and your daughter?” I keep my voice low even though the noise on the bus is growing louder with every mile we travel. “That sounds a lot like boyfriend-girlfriend territory.”

“Well yeah.” He tilts his head and his eyebrows knit together. “Is that not what’s happening here?”

I know we talked about our intentions after the Campus Lounge, but this still feels like it comes out of left field.

I haven’t had a real relationship in a long time.

Part of it was self-imposed because people are trash and the other part is because every time I thought things were going to get serious, they told me they wanted to keep it casual.

I didn’t even know people had boyfriends anymore.

It’s like you go from being friends with benefits to getting married. There is no in-between.

Unless, I suppose, you find someone like Luke.

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re asking me to go steady while we’re riding a school bus.” The butterflies in my stomach flap so hard that I think I might fly. “This is very high school of you.”

And I’m into it.

High school Emerson who was never asked to homecoming or prom is screaming right now!

Keeping my hands—and my mouth—to myself is a testament to my self-control because all I want to do is lean across this seat and kiss him.

As much as it sucks that we’re in public right now, it’s very fitting that we’re on a bus when I feel like a giddy little schoolgirl.

“I mean…” His voice drops so low that I can barely hear him over the squeals of excitement filling the bus. “I thought I made it clear when I gave you five orgasms in one night.”

“Six,” I correct him. “But who’s counting?”

Pride shines in his face the way I’m sure need shines from mine.

“I’m not sure, but I’m hoping my girlfriend’s counting.” His fingers tighten around my knee. “But if you need more time, that’s okay too. I’ll take you however I can get you.”

I’ve never felt this happy before, and it physically hurts trying to keep it all inside. If I could throw up hearts and rainbows, I would. I want to run around screaming that I not only have a boyfriend, I have the best boyfriend.

But I can’t run or scream or throw up, so instead, I pull his hand off of my knee and twist our fingers together, hoping it can convey even a modicum of what I’m feeling inside and say, “I’m definitely your girlfriend.”

And then, just like in all the romance movies, I hear a slight commotion behind me followed by the unmistakable high-pitched screams of horrified kindergartners.

“Miss Pierce!” So many kids scream at once that I can’t decipher who’s talking. “Ben threw up!”

Back to reality.

But at least in this reality, at the end of the day, I have a man to call mine and a very effective way of relieving my stress.