Don’t be who you are today.
Be the person I saw yesterday.
~ Romeo’s Quest
I’d felt something pulling me to her the moment I saw her on the train. I’d felt an even bigger pull when I saw her breaking down behind Joe’s bar. Yet nothing felt as right as it had when I bumped into her at school. Which I knew was wrong. All of this was wrong.
There was no question about it—teachers didn’t date students. The ethics behind it were strong, something they’d hammered into us in college. Never in my life would I have ever considered it.
At least I wouldn’t have before Ashlyn Jennings showed up.
Now my mind was considering crazy things. She made me think about breaking the rules, finding the loopholes, holding her close to me in the hidden hallways, and reading her Shakespeare in the abandoned aisles of the library.
I spent over an hour after school tracing the building, searching all corners for secret hideouts, for places we could maybe meet, maybe hold each other between the school bells ringing. That was crazy, right? I was crazy. But I looked, I searched, and I was extremely disappointed in myself after the hour passed by.
When I arrived home at the lake house, Randy was sleeping on the sofa. I headed for the kitchen, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and sat down at the kitchen table, staring out the window above the sink counter. The sky was darkening with clouds moving in. The smell of the air pointed to a downpour of rain coming soon.
I sat there for a long time—long enough to witness the first raindrop dance down to the windowsill. Long enough to witness the crack of lightning igniting the sky.
Maybe we could be friends. I sighed at my idiotic thought. Of course we couldn’t be friends. She was a student in my class. Besides, after that kiss, there was no part of me that simply wanted to be her friend. Plus, her life was already complicated enough. I couldn’t add to her issues.
When we’d bumped into each other outside my classroom, I’d seen the confusion hovering in her gaze. Then, when I’d waited for her to leave Henry’s office, I’d seen the sadness implanted there.
“First day of school already got you drinking alone?” Randy joked, walking to the fridge and opening it to pull out two beers. He slid one my way.
“Yeah,” I muttered, still staring out the window.
“You need to get laid.”
I shot my eyes to Randy, cocking an eyebrow. “I’m good.”
“No.” He shook his head back and forth. Grabbing a chair from the table, he swung it around and sat. “You need sex. What happened to that chick who came to the concert on Saturday?”
I cringed. “Don’t call her a chick.” A chick was what you called a girl who you didn’t give a crap about. Ashlyn wasn’t a chick. She was so far from just a chick.
She was smart.
She was funny.
She was intriguing.
She was so, so far from being a chick.
“I’m telling you though. Your aura is all off.” He waved his hands around my head, and I sighed. Randy was talking his mumble jumble again. “It’s f*cking depressing.”
I took a chug of my beer and placed it back on the table. “And to fix this, you suggest…”
“Sex. Lots and lots of sex.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I had to laugh. “Seriously, Dan. When was the last time you got laid? I’m not even sure if you have a dick anymore. I’m telling you, it’s not healthy. I should know. I studied this in college.”
“One class, Randy,” I stated. “You took one online course on human sexuality and now you’re a professional?
A loud clap came from his hands and he sat up straight in his seat. “A naked music party!”
“No,” I said, pointing at him.
“What?! Come on! We haven’t had one in years!”
“Exactly.” When we were younger and I had my first apartment on my own, Randy and I would have jam sessions with some beautiful women who…would be naked. After Sarah passed away, I’d been a little lost, and Randy had been positive that the best way of getting my mind off of death was to replace it with sex and music. One of his many different beliefs. It wasn’t my proudest moment of my past. “No naked music parties.”
He laughed. “Fine, fine. Well, I also took a course on aromatherapy and can prescribe you with some essential oils to help ease your stress levels.”
“I’m not stressed,” I argued.
“A little eucalyptus oil, rosemary, and sweet almond oil in a bath would do you wonders. In the bathroom closest, I have jars of different types of flowers that you can float in the bath, too. Each one is labeled with its healing descriptions.”
My mouth hung opened and I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you have a dick?”
He chuckled and shrugged. “I get laid at least five times a week. I have healthy skin and a calm, peaceful lifestyle. Plus, my sexual performance is—”
“Shut up. Just…stop talking. Please.”
“Okay okay… What about”—he held his hands up—“massage therapy 101. Straight guy to straight guy—let me loosen up your back muscles.”
“Oookay, on that note…” I leaped from my seat and tossed the beer down on the table. “I’m going for a run.”
“It’s pouring outside!” Randy argued.
“The best runs are in the rain,” I said as I headed toward my room to change into my running gear.
“Oh, right. Of course. Well hey, if you happen to run into a vagina, ask it to invite you in for a little conversation. And by conversation, I mean sexual intercourse!”
The rain clouds lifted, leaving puddles that I ran through until I returned back to the property. I stood in front of Dad’s boat shed and opened up the doors. The boat hadn’t been out of the shed since Mom had passed away. I’d thought about selling it a few times. Hell, I’d thought about selling the house altogether, too.
But who would sell their parents’ dream?
The place was already in jeopardy with the taxes and all. My teaching job and my weekend band gigs were the only things that were helping me keep the possibility of holding on to the property. I felt like there were so many times I’d let my parents down—I couldn’t lose their house on top of losing them, too.
It wasn’t an option.
I walked into the dark space. My fingers traced the edge of the landlocked ship and my lips involuntarily frowned. This beauty wasn’t supposed to be locked away, kept from the one place that made it feel free, alive. The water was its home. Yet I kept it locked up, trapped inside a wooden box.
“Sorry, buddy,” I muttered, pounding my hand on the side. “Maybe next summer.”
Maybe.
No promises.