“Maybe you should go.”
“Look, Penelope, I just want what’s best for JT. And you…you seem to be struggling so much.”
“I have this under control, thank you very much.”
“I don’t think you do.”
There was naked honesty in his words that cut through the fog of confusion that had settled over me. I was still working on why he would care so much about one student. And he was accusing me of failing to live up to my responsibilities. He might as well have told me I was incompetent, that I was the failure I’d told myself for three years that I wasn’t. It was like he was giving voice to all the self-doubts that had been swirling around me from the moment I stepped out of the haze of grief and into the paralyzing world of my new reality.
“How dare you?” I said, each word clipped. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”
“I know enough. And I can see that you need help.”
“Not from the likes of you.”
He came toward me, his hands held out in front of him like he was trying to show me he came in peace. But when he reached for my hands, I swatted him away, a little squeal slipping from between my lips as I stepped back and found myself quickly trapped between the sink and him.
“I want to help, Penny,” he said, grabbing my wrists as I tried to push him away. “I want to fix this, make it so that we can all work together to figure this thing out.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
I tried to push him again, but he had my wrists. He yanked them back behind me, forcing my body up against his. And suddenly I was enveloped in him, in his scent and his heat, in the force that was his masculinity. I looked up, determined to tell him exactly what I thought of him. But his lips were right there and then they were on mine. I pulled back slightly, but he followed, asking for entrance, asking to taste me the way I’d wanted to taste him from the first moment we met. I told myself I wasn’t attracted to him. Told myself that the fantasies that filled my mind in the weakest moments of the day were just an overactive imagination filling the space left by my lack of romantic life. But as he pulled me even closer to him, as the pounding of his heart made itself known against my chest, as his taste filled my senses, I knew there was no denying the attraction I had felt from that first meeting.
Despite myself, I felt the tension leave my shoulders, felt my body curve into his as my mouth answered his request by throwing the doors wide open. His grip on my wrists loosened and I reached up, my hand molding itself around his jaw as I enjoyed the feel of his tendons moving with the eagerness of his kiss.
I should have been pushing him away. There was something wrong here, some secret that was going to come back to bite me in the ass. But he knew what he was doing. The feel of his silky lips against mine, the way he explored my mouth like it was unchartered territory, made logic jump ship and swim for shore. There was no logic to sexual attraction, no logic to the baser instincts. All I knew in that moment was that I wanted more.
But maybe more wasn’t something he really wanted.
Mr. James—I was kissing this man in a way I hadn’t done with another human being in more than three years and I still didn’t know his first name—pulled back, his breathing a little rough as he paused with his forehead pressed against mine for a long second.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he stepped back, turning away from me and touching a finger to his lips. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You should leave,” Nick said as he watched the two of us from the doorway.
Mr. James just nodded even as he glanced back at me. Then he left without saying another word.
Nick stared at me for a long second, then he turned away too, leaving me standing there feeling like the whore of Babylon.
What the hell did I just do?
~~~
I was waiting for JT when he got home from school that afternoon. I had a speech all planned out in my head. Susan called the shop and told me that she’d given JT a week’s detention. She said he seemed contrite about the whole thing, especially the fact that he would have to miss football practice all week, which meant he wouldn’t be able to play in Friday’s game. I was hoping that meant he’d finally gotten the message and we would be on a better path going forward.
I could always hope.
I heard the front door slam. I shut off the television and stood, waiting for JT to come into the living room. He didn’t. He crashed through the entryway and made his way to the back of the house, the door to his bedroom slamming so hard that it rattled every window in the house.
I followed, somewhat cautiously, taping on the door after a moment’s hesitation.
“JT?”
He didn’t answer at first. But then the door suddenly burst open. His face was red, his eyes puffy almost as if he’d been crying.
“You had to fucking tell them, didn’t you?”