“Oh.”
“C’mere,” I said as I rolled her toward me. When she was facing me, her arms crossed between us, I pushed her crazy hair out of her face and kissed her. Nothing crazy, just the simple good-morning kiss I never thought I’d be able to give her. The joy of being able to kiss her was only surmounted by the fact that she kissed me back. When she pulled away she wore a sleepy, dreamy look on her face that left me feeling proud.
“What time is it?” she rasped.
“Six thirty.”
“Six thirty?” she exclaimed, shooting off the couch like a rocket. “My parents are awake already. They’re going to wonder where the hell I am.” She ran around the living room searching for her shoes then grabbed her phone, which I assumed was dead by the look on her face when she tried to turn it on.
“Didn’t you tell them where you were?”
“Well, yeah, but what am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, I fell asleep on the couch with my new boyfriend after he nearly had me coming harder than I ever have’? They’ll take that really well.”
“I’m your boyfriend?” My question made her stop in her tracks, a newly panicked look coming over her face. “And that would have been the hardest you ever came?” The second question made the panic retreat while irritation stole over the sexy features of her face.
“Hayes, stop it. I’m being serious.”
“So, seriously, I’m your boyfriend?” I’d never needed the title like I did with McKenzie. I was unused to feeling vulnerable with girls. I was never in a situation where the girl had the upper hand, never put myself in that position. But with McKenzie, I’d give her just about anything, including my ego, if she could provide just a little bit of reassurance.
She must have sensed my insecurity. She walked back over to the couch, straddled my lap, wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and pressed her face into my neck. I heard her inhale then felt her body melt into mine. I held her close, trying to enjoy the moment before it was over, before I had to let her go again for another day of pretending I wasn’t acutely tuned in to her every move. When she pulled away her hands moved to cradle my face.
“Are you worried about whatever’s going on between us?”
I shrugged. “I’m not worried, per se. It just didn’t sound horrible when you called me your boyfriend.”
“And you think boyfriend is an appropriate title?” The side of her mouth quirked up.
“What would you recommend?” I smoothed my hand down her back, then let it continue over the curve of her ass.
“Hmmm,” she played, tapping a finger against her lips. “How about ‘Hot Guy I Let Kiss Me’?”
I gave her ass a sharp slap.
“Ow,” she said, laughing, but forcing an insulted expression across her face. Her face softened and she leaned forward, kissing me gently, then whispering, “I have to go, boyfriend.”
“See you in class.”
“Yes, Mr. Wallace,” she said, just before she winked at me.
She climbed off me, smiled, and walked out the door.
Thirty minutes later, after I’d reluctantly showered and washed away the scent of Kenzie’s shampoo or perfume that had bonded itself to my skin overnight, I quietly opened my mother’s bedroom door. I hadn’t heard anything from her since the night before, and that was unusual.
She was still in bed and I could tell by the rhythmic way her chest was moving up and down she was still asleep. I let out a relieved sigh, thankful she’d gotten a full night’s rest for the first time in weeks.
I debated with myself about whether or not to wake her, to see if she needed anything before I left, but eventually decided to let her sleep. I could call her on my lunch break.
All week I’d been nervous at the high school, worried that somehow everything would come crumbling down around McKenzie and me. I was afraid to even be in the same room with her, let alone stop and talk to her in the hallway. I didn’t trust myself to not reach out and touch her, or look at her in such a way that everyone around us would see how I really felt. But as I drove to the school that morning, I almost felt invincible.
After holding McKenzie all night, everything else seemed like cake. Bring on the world; I was ready.
I spent my days at the high school observing Mr. White and working on the final project I would turn in to my advisors to obtain my master’s degree. I also worked on curriculum and lesson planning. I’d been in the same high school for the first two terms of the year, working closely with a teacher who taught me a lot and gave me a lot of support, and I’d had time to create lesson plans that fit in to his plans for the class. But once I took over Mr. White’s class, I had to start over again from scratch, and fast.