Chapter 4
CATHERINE
“One morning I just woke up and a thought popped in my head…”
My head snaps up from my computer at the sound of the voice in the doorway. There, I find Wilder, balancing an open laptop in his palm as he walks toward me, reading something.
He continues, “I think I might make a good mayor. Yeah. Maybe I’ll try it out.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me as he prowls closer, that all too confident expression on his face as he jokes around. “What are you doing, Wilder?”
I already know what he’s doing. He’s not giving up.
He keeps reading aloud, his eyes darting to mine every few words. “With that said, I want to let you all know I’d like to be the new mayor of Willow Creek.”
He slaps the laptop closed, his head tilted slightly to the left. “Are you really going to allow me to destroy my dad’s reputation with this mess?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Wilder, I can’t help you.'' Mornings are always nice because I know Troy would never interrupt my day. This is my real safe space, a quiet classroom with the birds chirping outside. Normally having people in here early would feel like a violation, but it’s strange that I actually want Wilder to be here.
Wider fakes a pout, and it’s hard not to fall for his charm. “I came to school early just to talk to you. Doesn’t that prove how important this is to me?”
More than anything, I want to do this for him. But the soreness in my wrist and the ache in my stomach serves as a reminder not to test my limits. I care about Wilder—probably more than I should.
I know it’s because I’ve been chatting with him more lately on SnapTok. It was never supposed to go as far as it has—to the point where we’re checking in with each other daily. But for some reason, I can’t stop. Wilder makes me feel important. Of all the girls who follow his account, he talks to me.
There’s just something about him and the way he flirts with the camera. I’ve memorized the dimples on each side of his cheeks when he smiles. The way he blinks rapidly when he’s feeling nervous, which is rare because Wilder was born to be in the public eye.
He sets the closed laptop down on a stack of papers on my desk and presses his hands to either side of it. “I need you, Mrs. Jenkins.”
My mouth drops open before I force my lips back together. A rush of adrenaline coursing through me. “You need me?”
Wilder leans closer, his face only inches from mine. I can feel the warmth of his minty breath on my cheek and it sends shivers down my spine. “Desperately.”
If he only knew I need him, too. His videos give me the escape I crave from the life I hate. But he’ll never know. He can’t learn that he is the only thing that holds me together on days I think about just ending it all for good. It’s inappropriate and so unlike me to be fixated on a younger man like this.
I make a vow to delete the app tonight. Hopefully that will end this strange fixation.
I’m finding it so hard to say no to him. I can see the desperation in his eyes. He really does need me, and it’s my duty as his teacher to offer a helping hand.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself.
“Okay,” I say softly, lost in his gaze as I suppress the haunting thoughts of any potential consequences. “Just this once.”
A smile grows on his face. “I knew I could count on you.”
“We’ve got twenty minutes before class begins. I’ll do what I can.” I open his laptop and begin reading. There is no way I can allow this to require an after-school session; it has to be now.
“Twenty minutes is perfect.” Spinning around, he grabs a chair and with a flick of his wrist, he sets it down beside me.
He’s so close. Too close. Every couple seconds, I find myself looking at the door, as if I’m expecting Troy to burst in like he did the last time we were sitting here together. He’s at work, though. There’s no way he’d come here at this time of day. I tell myself that, but here I am glancing between the words on the screen and out the windows, scanning for his car.
When Wilder leans in to watch me, I feel less worry and more comfort. It’s strange, but I feel like Wilder would never let anything happen to me. Not if he could stop it.
I push away that thought and focus on the document. It’s hard not to notice the worried look on Wilder’s face. He wants to do a good job on this article, and I can respect that.
His fingers drum against his knee nervously. “Can you tell me your thoughts? This silence might actually kill me.”
I read through this dumpster fire of a very rough draft, and when I’m done, I slap my hand to my forehead. “Seriously, Wilder?” I heave. “I know you can do better than this.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “With you I can. On my own, I’m doomed.”
Although I disagree with Wilder because I fully believe he can do this, it’s nice to hear him say he needs me. I tried to help Troy with something like this once and he insulted me before he could even read it. Said I was just a teacher and he has professionals who know what they’re doing to work on his press releases.
“I don’t get it,” I tell him, turning his way. “You’re one of the smartest students in the senior class. Why is this so hard for you?”
His joyous expression quickly fades. He shrugs, going from the confident top jock everyone else sees, to someone vulnerable. “I guess it’s the pressure of it all. A fear of failure.” He sighs, shaking his head as if he is disappointed in himself.
While this is a rougher draft than I imagined, it’s not the worst I have seen.
“You’re much too hard on yourself.” I pat his hand and he smiles.
Quickly drawing my hand away, I give him a knowing look. “And I know darn well you purposely made this terrible so I’d help you. Am I right?”
“Okay.” He smirks. “I’ll admit, it’s not my best work.”
He clenches his fists and I’m shocked when the action doesn’t make me flinch. With him I can see it’s not in anger, just frustration with himself. “Look, I’m not lying when I say I freeze up every time I try to write anything of substance. If it were for myself, it would be a breeze, but doing this for someone else’s future is hard as fu—” He immediately corrects himself. “Heck.”
I nod, understanding exactly what he means. The pressure to impress others can easily be all-consuming. In doing so, we put on a mask of perfection, hiding our true selves. The world is full of people who are too afraid to reveal their vulnerabilities and imperfections, so we sacrifice ourselves and our own happiness just to get validation from others.
While I may be thinking of something much bigger than an election, campaign, or news articles, it’s the same wall we’re putting up. One that we fear is full of judgment on the other side.
“Your intro is good.” I move the laptop between us so we can both see it clearly. Pointing to the next line on the screen, I say, “Delete this and add more emphasis to his plans for the beautification of the town’s parks.”
I watch intently as he taps at the keys, piecing together the key points in his notes with filler words that paint a much bigger picture of his dad’s plans. Plans that I’m actually excited for, given he wins the election.
“Here would be a great place to put the information on his hope for the preservation of the town's historic homes,” I say, pointing to the following paragraph. “The hardest thing about writing from information someone else gives you is the temptation to write as if you were making a grocery list. You're too focused on making sure all the information is there, instead of focusing on making it flow.”
He nods his head in agreement, so I continue, “When it feels like that's what you want to do, stop and look at each thing individually, then add three sentences to each bullet point to help further explain. This will also help when writing speeches.”
He immediately gets out his notepad from his backpack and starts writing down what I am telling him. This is why I love to teach Wilder. He values the information I bring to the table.
“Now that you have talked about how he wants to improve the look of the town, I think here would be a good place to expand on how he wants to help further other sports that are not just football.”
He sighs. “I feel weird writing this because all I know is football, though. How can I introduce other sports I don’t know that much about?” His brows are pinched as he stares at the screen. It’s so cute I pause and forget to answer his question for a moment.
“You still with me, Mrs. J?” A casual smirk plays on his lips.
I blush and roll my lips. “Of course, I was just thinking.” I pause for another second to compose myself because I am not sure what is happening to my brain right now.
“All right, so think of it this way. You might not know much about other sports, but what would the boosting of other sports do for the people of this town?”
He sits back in his chair, hand resting on his chin as he ponders my question. I can actually see the light bulb come on in his head when he grins back at me.
“It would bring in more scouts, which means more money. They will need places to stay and food to eat, thus bringing in more funds and helping improve the town's image. Plus, if these kids get scouted to major teams, it will also bring tourism here.”
I beam at him. “Exactly! Now, write that down.”
He gets to work immediately, his fingers flying over the keys like this is what he was made for. I always believed he could do it, but I think now he is starting to believe in himself too.
Once he’s finished, he sinks back in the chair, watching me anxiously as I pull the laptop close to read. This is good. Actually, it’s really good.
My hands go up in excitement, a widespread smile on my face. “This is great, Wilder. I knew you had it in you.”
A shy smile touches his lips. “Really?”
“Absolutely,” I assure him with a pat on his shoulder.
He reaches up, placing his hand over mine, and I curse the electricity that runs through me. It’s wrong and I hate the way his touch makes me feel. For just a moment, it’s as if time stands still and the only thing I see are his light brown eyes shining back at me. “I couldn't have done it without you, Mrs. Jenkins.”
I pull my hand away, averting my gaze as my face starts to feel like it’s on fire. “Of course you could have. You had it in you the entire time. You just needed a boost of confidence.”
Wilder has so many amazing qualities he doesn’t acknowledge; yet, he’s by far the hardest on himself out of any of my students.
I refocus on the article and fix a couple grammatical errors, then push the laptop back in front of him so he can read through it one more time. His lips move as he mouths the words and I find myself entranced.
The next thing I know, he’s turning in his chair to face me. “You’re amazing, Mrs. J. I don’t even know what to say, except thank you.”
The sincerity in his tone sends a rush of warmth through me. It’s such an amazing feeling when someone expresses their appreciation for you. It’s one of the reasons I love my job so much.
I raise my shoulders, caging in my neck because what I’m about to say next is wrong, yet crucial. “Say you won’t tell my husband.”
“It’ll be our little secret.” He winks and a swarm of butterflies flutter through my stomach.
Wilder stands up and pushes the top of his laptop closed. “Thank you again,” he says before leaning down and wrapping his arms around me. “This means more to me than you know.”
I gulp, hesitantly embracing his hug. “You’re welcome.”
My eyes close and I savor this moment, relishing the safety of his strong arms. I inhale the scent of his woodsy cologne as the heat of his body infiltrates mine. It’s overwhelming, yet everything I needed in this moment.
My heart hammers against his chest. This is a feeling I’ve craved for as long as I can remember.
But it’s wrong. I shouldn’t feel these things for another guy, and certainly not for my student, who is eleven years younger than me.
The door to the classroom creaks open and Wilder steps back, letting me go. I take a deep breath, putting on my mask of perfection as I stand up, ready to greet students. My stomach flips from the pain of last night's assault, and the confusing emotions running through me, and my hand covers it instantly.
Wilders eyes follow my movement and I swear I see a flash of anger. Before I can register it, he looks away and I focus on the student in the doorway.
“Good morning,” I say to Elodie as Wilder picks up his laptop from my desk. She squints, giving Wilder an odd look as if she just interrupted something.
She had to have known that was a simple hug. Nothing more, nothing less. Does she suspect it was something more? Was it? Does she know Wilder makes me feel things inside that I haven’t felt in ages? Is it written on my face that I’m crushing on my student?
Oh my gosh, Catherine, pull yourself together right this instant.
I wonder if Wilder told her he was asking me for help with the article. Maybe she knows it’s a conflict of interest and that's why she seems so puzzled. I try to breathe and ignore the churning in my gut.
Wilder flashes me another smile before finding his seat. All the while, Elodie is following behind him whispering something, only causing my paranoia to grow.
My cheeks fill with heat, pulse racing. That’s it. I have to delete that app and get him out of my head.