Page 42

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

DEAN

“Just… tell me the truth, man. Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, just…

shoot me fuckin’ straight,” West says, the entire plea coming out in a sighed rush.

He tugs at the ends of his hair, pacing the aisle between desks in my classroom.

I glance at the clock. He’s been in here spinning out for like, ten minutes.

I love the guy, but I also lo ve my free period.

Fantasy football and half a tuna sub is waiting, you know?

“Okay… first I need to know what I’m telling the truth about.” I stack my boots on my desk and lean back, stretching.

West finally stops, bracing his hands on his hips. “Is dating another teacher a completely ridiculous, stupid and insane thing to do?”

I drop my boots to the floor. Shit just got interesting.

As a man, I do not consider myself a gossip by nature.

I could go my entire life without knowing the inner workings, bad habits and secrets of the people around me in my community.

Honestly. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but an enthusiastic detachment kept the football coach alive.

However.

Nearly twenty years spent in the halls of a high school has changed me.

Days can get boring.

A little gossip here and there has become exciting, and in some cases and on some days, the highlight reel.

Not to mention, I eat lunch with mostly women, and have every day for years.

Even if I don’t want to know, it’s not like I can turn my listening off.

And simply being at that lunch table has made me privy to a lot of things, like Mr. Cunningham’s retirement, when the swim team got funding cut, that time a used condom was found in the science building bathroom, and when we added pizza pockets to the cafeteria menu.

Good stuff.

West is usually pretty reserved. He dishes advice, he’s loyal and present in my life, but when it comes to himself, he always claims I already know the most interesting things about him .

He’s from Oakcreek, but moved to Bluebell six years ago when he and his wife divorced. He’s got a degree in physical education, and another one in educational leadership.

He’s tall.

Hmm, what else?

Oh, he doesn’t like fancy coffee. Drinks it bold and black, just like me.

“Who are you gonna date? Who’s chasing after you?

” I ask, running down an entire roster of teachers in my mind.

For a while, about a year ago, I wondered if he was still caught up on his ex, but after learning that she recently remarried one day while scrolling Facebook on his phone at the lunch table, he seemed to have no reaction.

He sighs, slipping into one of the student tables, dropping his head flat onto the surface.

“Dude, they sneeze all over those things.”

He lifts his head with a grimace on his face, swiping at his forehead with his hand. “Gross.”

“They can be, yeah.” I narrow my eyes, and prod him with my pointed gaze. “Who are you thinking of dating?”

“Cadence Caine,” he says, tipping his head to the side. “Alright, I’m ready. Let me hear how stupid I am.”

I open my mouth, but my classroom door swings open, and Leah saunters in.

Today she’s wearing a carousel pink suit, and an emerald blouse, her earrings an amalgamation of colors.

Her hair is in a ponytail, sleek and tight, and her name badge swings from her lanyard as she braces her hands on her hips. “Well fuck.”

I tip my head toward the table where West is sitting, mid mini-drama. She follows my lead, and spots him. “Oh.” Leah slouches. “If I walked all the way to your classroom and you can’t talk?—. ”

West gives her a two-finger salute. “He’s all yours. I was just leaving.”

She looks between West and myself, then settles on West. “No, don’t go because of me. My thing can wait.”

West waves her off, giving me a wave as he heads toward the door. “Forget it. My thing was dumb. Your thing is probably actually important.” He nods my way as he pushes against the door with his ass. “Later, Dean.”

I snatch my sandwich from my cooler and unroll it. “What’s your thing?”

Leah sits down across from me at a small desk. “What’s his thing?”

I take a bite of cold tuna. “He wants to date Cadence, but isn’t sure if it’s a bad idea because they work together.”

Leah blinks as if this information does not compute.

“Cadence Caine and West Dupont.” She tries their names out together.

“Cest.” Her face contorts into a sickened twist. “No, that sounds like it’s short for incest.” She taps her shiny stiletto against the floor.

“Wadence. No, that’s equally gross.” With a shrug she says, “I guess if they’re a couple, we’ll see what the kids come up with. ”

I smirk. “I bet it’s ‘cest.”

She nods. “Same.” Picking lint from her pants she looks up. “Okay, the newspaper article about Tanner Colt being your starting QB, back from an injury, ready to grab the attention of scouts, ready to put Bluebell on the map, you know, that article?”

I don’t miss the way she nibbles at the inside of her cheek, and I narrow my eyes. “I am aware of the article, yes. I think it runs on Friday, on game day.”

Leah licks her lips. “I know you said you didn’t want to be part of it other than a quote or two,” she says, nibbling her cheek even harder, sending my hackles through the roof .

“Leah, if you roped me into something?—”

“The influential photo,” she spits out, bringing her thumbnail between her teeth. More nervous chewing.

The influential photo is part of the article’s main piece and in fact, the focal point of the front page, aside from the headline.

Tanner was asked to name the people most influential in his life, and the paper was going to send a photographer out and take the photo of Tanner with those people.

I know he already gave his interview, and assumed he’d had his photo taken with Clara June already.

Now, though, I know what’s coming. And I know I can’t say no because of who’s requesting.

“I hate being the center of attention,” I complain, “and today’s my fantasy draft day and now I’m thinking about ‘Cest and getting my photo taken.”

Leah gets to her feet and pats me on the shoulder. “There, there. I’m sure Michael Jordan will be available after practice.”

I roll my eyes. “Wrong sport.”

She smiles, hand on the doorknob. “The photographer is hoping to snag the photo today. Ms. Colt is coming by after practice.”

I clear my throat, and run a finger around the collar of my polo. “Who all did Tanner request? Aside from me and his mom?”

Leah’s shoulder lift and fall, her face impassive. “No one.”

Looks like I’ll be seeing you this afternoon

I glance up at the students, heads down, deep in thought as they work on their five short-answer questions. This is the last quiz before their Revolutionary War papers are due. They’re focused, and a little burnt out. Which is the perfect time to talk to Clara June.

You coming to Goode’s for a bite?

Hadn’t planned on it but now, maybe so

For the photo, for the article that’s running on Friday

Tanner asked me to be in it

Or… he told the paper who he wanted in the photo and the paper told Leah to tell me

He didn’t share that with me

I take a pause, wondering if this makes her uncomfortable?

It’s an honor, quite frankly, that Tanner would think so highly of me that he’d want me in a photo with just him and his mom.

I don’t want to be in the paper, but I want to support this kid.

And at the same time, I don’t want to upset his mom.

If it makes you uneasy at all, I can talk to him about it

I don’t want to make you uncomfortable

I only found out just now or else I would have brought it up the other night

The night where I stripped your dress and panties off and ate your pussy then fingered the places my tongue had been, getting you to moan and writhe all over me.

I’m not uncomfortable

He just didn’t tell me

I’m glad you’ll be in the photo. He adores you.

Relief lifts the temporary weight from my ribs as I read her messages.

“Mr. McAllister, do we have to restate the question in our answers?” Joseph asks.

I bob my head. “Answer each question as if a question weren't asked at all.” What they don’t know is that these five, short-answer questions, if answered correctly, will be the bones outline of their papers.

I text Clara June back.

In front of the athletic office, after practice

That's where the photo is, in case he didn’t tell you

You know teens well

He told me the time, but not the place

Looking forward to seeing yo u

The night I got home from her place, after learning she’d orgasmed in my arms after years of thinking it was no longer possible, I jerked off. Twice. Back to back.

Then I texted her.

I told her that I’d had a great time, and that I cared deeply for her, but I understood the need to move slowly. She told me she’d had a great time, too, and invited me to dinner the very next night.

That was yesterday.

When Tanner and Rawley didn’t show up at school, I texted her to make sure everything was okay, and it was then she informed me that her whole house had caught the stomach bug going around town.

She was the only one holding strong, but after taking care of three sick boys—one which has yet to master making it to the toilet on time—I have to ask how she’s feeling.

Tanner’s back in class today, but he looks a little pale, and I question if he’s pushing through just to get playing time this Friday, his first game back.

School rules–can’t miss more than a day of school in a game week if you want to play.

The rule subconsciously solidifies the importance of classes, and I support it.

Equally, I don’t want Tanner to overdo it and wind up sick and sore.

Tanner’s back in class I see. How are the other two holding up? How are you?

She writes back right away, and I envision her pressed between the kitchen and the hostess station, wearing her second skin waitress uniform, an apron tied to her front. Stealing time out of her day to text me.

I don’t know how or why I deserve it, but I cling to it with both hands.

So far, unaffected. Tired, though.

Tanner only went because he wants to play on Friday

I assumed

Can I do anything to help?

Is Rawley at home with Archie?

She doesn’t respond right away to that message, and I can envision her being pulled away by senior citizens who can’t seat themselves.

I don’t know if she ever caught up on rest after Tanner’s accident, and in the last few days, she likely hasn’t slept much.

I only want to make things better for her, and as that thought occurs, she writes me back.

Yeah–Rawley could’ve probably gone today but truthfully, he didn’t have anything due and he didn’t want to, and Archie wasn’t ready so he stayed home and took care of his brother

Rawley called about an hour ago saying Archie is turning the corner

Fingers crossed I’m done chasing around a five-year-old with a puke bowl

Are you heading straight from the diner to the field house, for the photo?

Yes

The bell rings, indicating that this period will end in three minutes. Papers are rustled, and half of the class sighs with anxiousness .

“I have football after this, so if anyone needs an extra five or ten minutes, I can stick around. Just… take your time.”

I text Clara June again.

I’ll see you there. Glad you’re not sick.

See you there, Coach