Two men and a woman suddenly enter the classroom, all of them wearing dark suits. They give off that cop vibe, and when the female pulls out a pair of handcuffs, I realize my instincts are correct.
“David Figueroa, you’re under arrest,” the woman says as the two males flank either side of Fig and grab his arms before he can get away.
Not like he was trying. Defeat is written all over him.
“Hands behind your back,” she says as the other detectives turn Fig, so his back is to her. The woman lists the charges. Contributing to the sexual delinquency of a minor. Inappropriate sexual behavior with a minor. Sexual misconduct. The list goes on for a while.
Our teacher is in massive trouble. I don’t see him ever recovering from this.
And them arresting him in front of us is sending a message to the entire school. He’s been caught.
Finally.
They haul him out, Fig’s head hanging down the entire time, all of us in the classroom deathly quiet. We’re all in shock. I know I am, and I even had a heads-up.
Matthews stops in the open doorway, contemplating all of us. “Don’t worry about the final. You all got an A on it,” he says.
Right before he turns and leaves.
FORTY-TWO
WREN
The rest of the day is uneventful, thank goodness. We have a shorter lunch break because of the shortened schedule, and Crew never leaves my side. He’s very possessive, slinging his arm over my shoulders as he sits next to me in the dining hall and talks to his friends. Claiming me in front of everyone at school.
There are stares and whispers and gossiping behind hands, but a lot of it has to do with Fig’s arrest and not because of Crew’s obvious attention—and affection—towards me. This is a big deal, having a teacher arrested in front of our class, during school hours. Hauled off in handcuffs and paraded around the entire school.
Because that’s what those detectives did. They walked Fig down the main hall, hoping to catch the eye of everyone they could. Totally unexpected.
But then again, not surprising.
When the final bell rings, I walk out of my sixth period final to find Crew waiting for me, leaning against a row of shiny blue lockers. He pushes away from them to approach me, and I frown.
“What are you doing here?”
“Walking you to your dorm,” he says, taking my hand and falling into step beside me.
I marvel at this new Crew. We have sex and this is what happens? He becomes super possessive and wants to spend all of his free time with me? It’s so…weird. And thrilling.
Something to get used to, that’s for sure. I’m not used to this sort of attention, and while I like it, there’s also a small part of me that wants to run and hide.
People seeing me with Crew will eventually realize that something happened between us. Something sexual. My role model days are over.
I fell, just like the rest of them.
And I sort of don’t mind. I get it now. I understand why it happens, and how all other things cease to matter when the boy of your dreams, the boy you’re falling for, smiles at you and makes you feel like nothing else matters to him.
Just you.
Once we’re outside, I pull my hand from his and slip my gloves on. He tries to grab my hand again, but I won’t let him.
“What the hell, Birdy?”
The irritation in his voice is obvious, but I ignore it. “You should put gloves on first.”
“Oh.” His annoyance clears and he pulls a pair of black gloves from his coat pocket, putting them on and then taking my hand. “Is this your way of taking care of me?”
“I have to try sometime, since all you want to do now is take care of me.” I should sound more grateful. He needs to understand this will take some getting used to for me.
He shrugs, seemingly uncomfortable. “I feel protective.”
“Why? Because of what happened over the weekend? I can still handle myself, you know,” I remind him.
“I never thought you couldn’t,” he agrees. “But…I can’t help the way I feel.”
“And how do you feel?”
“Like you’re mine and I want everyone to know it,” he answers seriously.
I absorb his words. The fierce way he said them. I believe he cares about me. That he feels possessive of me. But we’ve gone from nothing to everything in a rapid amount of time and I still need to process this.
When we arrive at the dorm hall, I turn to face him, grabbing hold of the front of his jacket and giving him a little shake. “I love how protective you are, but you have to be patient with me.”
Crew frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not used to it. A few weeks ago, you were chasing after me. Threatening me and always shooting me dirty looks. You’ve even admitted you hated me.”
His exasperation is evident. “I didn’t shoot you dirty looks.”
I love that’s the point he got stuck on. “You so did. Every morning when you waited for me to show up before school.”
“I was trying to get your attention.”
“As in, staring at me like you wanted me to die?” I laugh.
He doesn’t.
“I guess I approached it—you—wrong,” he admits.
“You still got me in the end though.” My smile is small.
He kisses it away.
“I could come inside and hang out with you in the common room,” he suggests, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I would love that, but I have a paper to finish.” My history essay is due tomorrow, plus we have an actual final. “Plus, I need to study.”
“You do not,” he teases, delivering another kiss to my lips.
“I do. The paper is only two-thirds finished and I barely remember what we learned in class this semester,” I explain. “I need to read over my notes.”
“I have that final tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “Maybe I should study with you.”
“We won’t get any studying done together and you know it.” I smile up at him, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “Once I get through tomorrow, the rest of the week is easy.”
“And then we’ll hang out.” He says this firmly, as if I can’t argue.
I won’t. I want to spend time with him. As much as I can before winter break starts.
“Yes. We’ll hang out.” He kisses me again before I can say anything else.
“I want to plan something for your birthday. Something special. Just for the two of us,” he says.
I don’t know how my father will feel about that, but I don’t mention that. “Okay.”
“Good luck with studying. And your paper.” Yet another kiss, this one long and filled with tongue. “Text me later.”
“Bye,” I whisper.
I watch him walk away before I finally turn and head into my dorm, waving at the RAs sitting behind the desk as I walk past. I’m in my room in minutes, changing out of my uniform and pulling on sweats. I crack open my laptop and settle in, opening the paper I’ve been working on for history.
This is the absolute last thing I want to do, but I remind myself once tomorrow is over, the rest of the week is fairly simple. I can handle this. A paper. Some studying. A final. Then it’s easy-peasy until we’re out of school for break.
I can’t wait. I want to spend time with Crew before we have to leave. And then I want to spend more time with him when we’re both home. Winter break can be so depressing for me sometimes, even though it’s my birthday and Christmas and all of those good times, where you’re supposed to be making memories and having a great time.
I’m usually just with my parents. We don’t have much extended family, and the last few years, Daddy never wanted to go on vacation over the holidays, claiming he had too much work to catch up on.
Now I’m actually excited for break. For all the possibilities that come with it.
Like spending ample time with Crew.
I’m going to have to tell Daddy about him sometime. Mom probably won’t care so much, but Daddy will. He has all of these expectations on me that I can no longer meet.
I can’t meet them. Not anymore.
Really don’t want to anymore either.
I’m staring at my laptop screen, trying to get up the energy to finish writing this history paper when my phone rings.
It’s Daddy.
I answer immediately, greeting him with, “Hi. I was just thinking about you.”