My chest clenched when I saw her eyes widen in confusion, when I saw the sheen of tears before she’d looked down in embarrassment. I’d given her space to collect herself, taken a walk to replace the first aid kit, calling myself every stupid name in the book. I’d resolved to apologize when I’d returned, determined to take responsibility for leading her on. Then I’d seen her trying to bolt and forgotten my whole plan. Scratched everything and instead pretended like nothing had happened.
Which was exactly what I’d continue to do today too.
“Feeling any better?” I asked when she stepped into my office.
“Yeah,” she said, moving to sit in the chair in front of my desk. I fought to keep my eyes from trailing down to watch the way her skirt rode up her thighs as she sat. “A hell of a lot better than Olivia. I think she was still hungover yesterday.”
“I don’t miss those days,” I said, cringing.
“What?” she mock-gasped, pulling her hand to her chest. “You? A rowdy boy in college?”
Laughing at her dramatics, I shook my head. “More like rowdy high school boy.”
“Was this before or during the class presidency and physics club? I won’t judge,” she held up her hands. “Physics club would drive me to drink too.”
“You’re very funny, Miss Derringer.”
She gave a shameless shrug, and I loved the way it made her ponytail sway. Maybe I could blame that for putting me in a trance long enough to allow the next words to pop out.
“I struggled a little as a teen. Drinking helped.”
She hid her shock at my confession pretty well. Not that it was much of a confession, just probably not something a teacher talked about with his student. I could see her eyes widen a little before she nodded her head like she understood.
She had no idea how much was really behind those two sentences. I’d struggled with my anger—my loss of control—and drinking helped me numb myself enough that I didn’t find the need for an outlet. But it wasn’t long until my parents had had enough and got me into therapy. My therapist recommended getting involved in school and then came physics club. As lame as it sounded, it was the first thing to get me excited about something in years.
Fucking stars, man. Saved my life.1
I laughed, then admitted, “Physics club was my jam. Gave me something else to focus on.”
I didn’t know why I’d shared so much of my past. Something about the innocence and acceptance that emanated from her made me want to confess all my secrets. I needed to change the subject before more word vomit escaped.
Thankfully, Donna popped her head in. “We’re getting lunch from the sub shop. You want anything?”
Oaklyn’s stomach growled right on cue and her cheeks blushed.
“I’ll take a large club and two bags of potato chips.”
Oaklyn’s head popped up. “Dr. Pierce, no. I packed a PB&J. I’m go—”
“Two, Donna,” I interrupted Oaklyn and held up two fingers. Donna nodded, smiling at Oaklyn’s protest.2
“Let us treat you every once in a while,” she said before walking out.
Us.Like it was the office that wanted to gain pleasure from watching Oaklyn’s lips move with every bite, and not just me.
“Oh, that reminds me,” Oaklyn said, hopping up from her seat and whirling around to dig in her bookbag.
My eyes trailed to the soft material of her skirt swaying higher with each move. The expanse of thigh shot straight to my cock, making it twitch under my slacks. She stood, and I looked away before she caught me staring.3
“Brownies!” She held up a Tupperware container victoriously. “And I made sure to add peanuts just for you. Although I hear Mr. Erikson likes them too, so you may have to share.”
“Hmmm.” I pretended to think about it. “I don’t think so.”
Her soft laugh filled the office, and I couldn’t help smiling too.
Oaklyn set some brownies on my desk before taking the rest out to the main office for everyone to share.
After lunch, I put on some music to help distract me from the soft noises she created as she filed. Every swish of paper drew my eyes, like she was shouting at me, demanding my attention. However, the music backfired when I glanced over to find her standing in front of the cabinet, swaying her hips to the beat of the song.
