Chapter 13 #2
For four weeks, I’d watched her retreat into this grove while weekend visitors came and went. Every student had received at least one visitor since the start of the school year. Most students had visitors every weekend.
Not one person had come to see Tinsley.
As we walked back to the classroom, she prattled on about the opossums, sharing stories as if they were her closest friends.
She was lonely.
If I looked beneath her misbehavior and sass, I would see just how deep her loneliness ran.
She was miserable.
Maybe that misery began long before she moved to Maine. What had she really left behind in Bishop’s Landing? Shallow friendships? A cold mansion? A world where she went unnoticed, unappreciated, and unloved?
She’d stopped asking for her phone two weeks ago.
“They keep me company.” She followed me into the classroom, still talking about the opossums. “It’ll probably sound dumb to you, but they’re all I have here.
I’ll be devastated when they move on. But I’ll also be proud and blissfully happy.
I only want the best for them.” She smiled to herself. “Animals are better than people.”
“How so?”
“They don’t judge. They don’t hate. If humans had hearts like opossums, what a beautiful world this would be.”
If people had hearts like Tinsley Constantine, my faith in humanity would be renewed.
For the next few hours, I led her through her lessons. She took some exams, went to lunch, and sat through my afternoon classes. Then she finished her day with the punishment she’d earned for being late this morning.
Scrubbing floors wasn’t teaching her a damn thing. But I made no allowances. If she broke a rule, she paid the penalty. I was nothing if not consistent.
Thirty minutes into her punishment, she’d worked herself into the far corner. She also had that skirt inched up around her waist again, and this time, I didn’t look away.
Bent over on her knees, she gave me a direct view of her heart-shaped bottom in white cotton.
The high-cut underwear followed the curves of toned, youthful thighs.
The swath of thin material between her legs clung to her flesh, carving an explicit, mouthwatering valley from one virgin hole to the other.
I shifted in the chair behind my desk as heat rushed below my belt and tightened between my legs.
That damn skirt hadn’t bunched around her waist on its own. I now suspected it hadn’t been the breeze that exposed her this morning, either.
She was playing with danger, taunting the beast, enticing something she couldn’t handle. Whatever this was, whatever her intentions, I would have to reprimand her.
But I was hard as a rock, burning up, unraveling from the inside out. My sacred control was slipping. I couldn’t walk over there. I couldn’t go to her with my dick standing up and hunger pounding in my veins.
So I forced my gaze to my laptop and worked through tomorrow’s lesson plans. By the time she stored the supplies in the closet, I had the composure and presence of mind to deal with her.
“I finished the floor.” She snatched a pen from my desk and twirled it. “What now?”
“Now we address your attention-seeking behavior.”
The pen stopped spinning.
“Beyond the thrill-seeking element, exposing yourself to your teacher is a wanton, pathetic attempt to get noticed.” I sent a dark look across the desk. “It’s a cry for attention.”
Unflinching, she met my glare. “A cry for attention?”
“It’s a misdialed way of expressing insecurity, jealousy, and loneliness.”
“Okay.” She carefully set down the pen and rolled her shoulders. “So that’s one way to look at it.”
“If there’s another way…” I flicked a hand, motioning. “Go ahead. The floor is yours.”
“All right.” She stepped around the desk, one foot before the other, until she stood at my side within arm’s reach.
“Your position suggests that attention is inherently bad for you, that it’s a sinful or gluttonous thing to crave, like adultery or drugs.
But isn’t the need for attention essential to being human?
What is marriage without the attention of a spouse?
What is priesthood without the attention of his flock?
What is a child without the attention of her parents?
” She looked away, blinked, and returned to me.
“Isn’t the gift of attention one of the most selfless and impactful things we can give one another? ”
She stood taller, regarding me with eyes of searching blue.
Intelligent eyes.
Beautiful mind.
Every day with her was a wild ride of tight turns, steep slopes, and unpredictable adjustments. I’d never been so mentally and physically aroused in my life.
“Yes.” My voice rasped, and I cleared my throat. “But do you understand that attention isn’t the same as affection?”
“I know that.”
“And showing your backside to your teacher is a quest for negative attention.”
“Negative?” She pressed her fist to the desk. “Because the image of my body is negative? Or is it my panties that you find negative? You’ve already seen them before. Because you demanded I remove them, I might add. So what exactly do you find negative beneath my skirt?”
“Do not twist my words, Miss Constantine.” My voice cracked like a whip, making her take a step back.
“When you misbehave for the sole purpose of seeking attention, the punishment becomes a reward. That’s negative attention, which I will not give.
So I’m letting you off with this warning.
I do not want to see your underwear again. ”
I twisted away, turning my attention to the laptop.
She lingered for a moment, her breathing fast and shallow. Then she ambled to the door.
At the threshold, she paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You were right about one thing. I am lonely, Father Magnus.”
As she slipped into the hall, I felt a deep, uncomfortable pang pull through my gut and burrow all the way down to my bones. I didn’t have a name for it. I had no idea what it was. All I knew was that I needed it gone.
I needed her to come back.
“Tinsley.” I listened to the sounds of her steps slow, halt, and retrace her path.
When she reappeared in the doorway, my relief was immediate, the warmth in my chest absolute.
“One more thing.” I reached into my desk drawer and removed her phone from the charger. “What’s your number?”
Her eyebrows pinched together as she approached, rattling off the digits. I entered the number into my phone and sent a text to hers.
“The Winter Formal is coming up.” I handed over her device. “Perhaps one of your siblings will bring you a dress.”
“Thank you.” Her brows pulled in even tighter. “Did you just send me a message?”
“Yes. Have you spoken to Miriam about your feelings of loneliness?”
“No. God.” She made a horrified face. “I don’t know her, and I don’t need a counselor.”
I figured she’d say that. “You can text me, anytime, for any reason.”
“I appreciate that.” She stared down at her phone, and a slow, mischievous smile bowed her lips as she met my eyes. “But don’t you worry your pretty little head about me, Father Magnanimous. Whenever I feel like giving in, I remember I have a lot of assholes to disappoint.”
No question she was referring to me. Her mother, too. And perhaps the family she was expected to marry into.
As I watched her sashay out of the room with her head held high, one thing was certain.
Tinsley was going to take over the reins of her life, even if that meant walking away without a penny from her family.
I would be rooting for her, even if I were one of the assholes standing in her way.