Page 28 of Unsupervised

“He put antifreeze coolant in the windshield washer reservoir!”

The rest of the students burst out laughing, and Owen exclaims, “They look the same!”

“Washer fluid is blue, not green! How can you mix that up?” Kelly argues.

Owen crosses his arms. “Because I’m colorblind.”

Kelly’s mouth falls open a little, and I see the regret slip into her expression.

“Uh-huh,” Owen taunts with a smile. “See, now you feel bad.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Owen only lets her suffer a second before he hugs her. “It’s fine. I’m not touchy about it. So, I can’t tell blue from green. When do you really need that in life anyway?”

“Today, apparently,” Milo snorts, and Owen flips him off.

The spike of jealousy that I have to rein in at the sight of Owen with his arms around her is ridiculous. She isn’t mine. She doesn’t even know that I think of her as anything other than a student. I can’t help it, the way she smiles up at him, and the way they tease each other, it’s clear they spend time together and know each other well.

“It’s possible to read the bottles,” Kelly points out.

“Read,” Owen scoffs. “What a nerd.”

“Okay, let’s flush the reservoir before someone sprays that greasy stuff all over the windshield,” I announce.

When the club ends, I notice she gets in Owen’s truck instead of riding her bike home. It looks like I may be too late.

On my way home, I stop at a fast food drive thru to grab a burger and fries. I’m just getting ready to pull back onto the road when I have to hit my brakes. A puppy wanders in front of my truck, completely oblivious to the danger he’s in, and is about to be in if he keeps heading for the street.

“Hey boy,” I call, sticking my hand out the window.

As he ambles closer, I see how emaciated and dirty the poor thing is. Someone has dumped him out here. He’s not skittish or afraid when I get out and kneel down in front of him. His black fur looks healthy, just covered in road dust, but he’s starving.

I’m torn. There’s no way I’m leaving him here, but do I take him to the shelter? I’ve been wanting to adopt a dog and this one clearly needs someone.

His tongue darts out and licks my hand. “Okay, you’re coming home with me.” He doesn’t try to wriggle away when I pick him up and set him in the passenger seat, and the way he just sits upright looking around on the drive home is funny.

The greasy bag of takeout food has been tossed in the back seat and he peeks back there a few times, but I’m surprised he doesn’t go for it. I’ll have to run to the store to get him some food and stuff, but it can wait. I’ll find something at home I can feed him for tonight.

The sun has set when we get home, and I can barely see him trotting behind me up to my porch. His fur is dark as midnight. That would make a good name for him.

He follows me inside and to the kitchen. As soon as I set a bowl of water on the floor, he nearly knocks it over the way he dives into it, lapping frantically. After considering the options for a minute, I take out some of the beef I had cooked to go into a stew for tomorrow. With the way he went at that water, I know not to give him all the meat at once or he’ll just puke it up.

Instead, I sit at the table with my food and eat while I drop a few pieces of meat at a time into his bowl. Once we’re finished, I’m glad to see him go to the back door and whine.

Someone housebroke him, at least. Awesome.

He disappears into the darkness to relieve himself then trots back to me, tail wagging. “Let’s get you a bath. You smell awful.”

The dog I had as a kid hated baths, and I’m fully prepared to have to wrestle him into the tub, but as soon as he’s in the warm water, he just sits down and looks at me. Even turning the shower on him doesn’t faze him. He bites at the water, playing a little, but doesn’t have much strength. I have to scrub him and rinse him twice to get all the grime off. By the time I have him toweled off, I realize I’m going to have to hurry to shower before the piano lesson if I don’t want to go smelling like a wet dog.

Should I cancel it tonight? My reaction to seeing Owen with Kelly today isn’t something I’m proud of. It’s not like I showed it in any way, but still, I’m supposed to be the adult in this situation. Sometimes, the absurdity is laughable, that I’m teaching students how to be an adult when I don’t feel any different than I did when I was eighteen.

I should leave her alone. That was a good plan. I should let her be with the college guys her age, not someone older, with more responsibilities and not as much time for fun. I’m not even sure what we have in common. I just know that she’s kind and sweet, and I feel good when I’m near her. Plus, I have an urge to fuck her brains out, to see her moan and writhe under me.

I’m not canceling. I want to see her.

I toss an old blanket over my couch and Midnight wastes no time curling up on it. He’s asleep in seconds, and I rush to get cleaned up and ready.