Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
Milo
“Showing up two days in a row, Mr. Corti. Color me shocked,” Mr. Slade said as I entered the classroom.
“You and me both. You and me both,” I muttered.
My mind was still on the student teacher’s ass that guided me into said room. She was a good girl. That was given by how she’d almost burst into tears the prior day. But the trouble with her being a good girl was that I was a bad boy who wanted her to be my good girl. I still wanted to taste her against that desk, under the fluorescent lights, as she scolded me for not following the lesson plan.
After taking my seat, I looked at her and tried not to let my stare appear so obvious. She looked good that afternoon. Even better than she had the previous day. She was still teacherly, with her straight hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. I couldn’t help but think what it would’ve been like to pull that ponytail a little while she was on all fours with her ass facing me.
Thoughts you shouldn’t be thinking, Milo.
Her name was Starlet, not like the letter, but like the constellations in the sky.
I found that out with a quick internet search because I needed to know her first name, not only her last. Ms. Starlet Evans.
She didn’t have much online regarding social media, and the accounts she possessed were private, which was unfortunate. All I wanted to do last night was dig deeper into who she was. I didn’t even know why. For the most part, I hated people. No…hate was too strong of a word. I was indifferent to other human beings. I couldn’t have cared less about them if I had tried. Yet the plot twist of Starlet ending up being my teacher and tutor was something I didn’t see coming.
I had difficulty focusing on whatever Mr. Slade was talking about during the hour because I couldn’t keep my eyes off her sitting at that desk, doing her damnedest to avoid looking my way. It was as clear as day that she was avoiding me. I couldn’t blame her.
With how her conscience worked, she was probably beating herself up for the unfortunate events between us. But if I were honest, I saw nothing unfortunate about it. After we’d hooked up, I daydreamed about it for the longest. I hadn’t even been with another woman since. I was still high off her. I’d never tasted anything like that, like her, before. Starlet tasted like heaven soaked in sin, and after I left that bedroom with her, her tastes lingered against my tongue.
With the way my conscience worked, I only craved more. That was probably why I was destined for hell, and she was made for heaven. We were the opposite of one another. Hell, I’d never even met a woman like her. Someone so timid yet sexy. Smart yet quirky. Thick yet so... Okay, there was no yet to that fact. I just loved how thick she was. Lifting her onto my face and having her hover on top of me was the highlight of my night.
And to think, I wasn’t even going to attend that party, but it was either that or sitting at home alone with my thoughts.
She kept her eyes glued firmly on Mr. Slade. I couldn’t help but smirk because I knew she was going out of her way not to look in my direction. I couldn’t wait to have the chance to sit near her. Smell her. Be close enough to touch her yet knowing that would be forbidden. It was the sweetest kind of torture; one I couldn’t wait to experience during our tutoring session after school.
Mr. Slade began handing out the graded quizzes from the previous day. As he laid mine on my desk, he shook his head slightly. “Not a shocking score, Mr. Corti.”
I glanced down at the paper and saw the large red F written on the top. I swore Mr. Slade went out of his way to make my Fs big and bold. It was almost as if it were screaming, “fuck you, Milo, and your stupidity.”
The joke was on him, though. I wasn’t stupid. I simply didn’t try. There was a big difference.
I glanced up from my failure and caught Starlet’s stare on me. She didn’t look away this time like she had for the past forty-five minutes. Instead, she tilted her head with eyes packed with curiosity. She must’ve overheard Mr. Slade’s comment toward me.
For the first time that hour, I felt discomfort from Starlet. Her ochre-colored eyes were so soft, so gentle that they pissed me off. She stared at me as if she felt pity for me. I didn’t need a person’s pity. Most of the time, all I needed was to be left alone.
In our game of stare, I failed by looking away first. I didn’t particularly appreciate how her misplaced care made me uncomfortable.
After the school day ended, I packed my things and headed to the local library to meet Starlet for our session. I picked a study room toward the back and slumped in the chair. I waited for a while, and my irritation built over time. We were coming from the same damn place. How was she late?
“Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, entering the study room. The moment I saw her, I sat straighter. An odd sensation washed over me that I didn’t recognize. Was that…excitement? Was it pleasure from seeing her show up? Or maybe just gas in the pit of my gut. Maybe I had to take a shit. Hard to tell, seeing how I hardly knew how feelings worked. All I knew was the discomfort was annoying as hell.
She pulled out the chair across from me, still talking. “I had to stop by the principal’s office to talk to him about the tutoring and—”
“Already looking for a reason to quit?” I cut in.
I wouldn’t blame her.
I knew a lost cause when I saw one, too.
She narrowed her eyes, confused. “What? No. I had to gather the books from your classes to keep up and ensure we were on the same page across the board.”
Oh.
Right.
“And we are, right?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “We’re on the same page, correct?”
“Are you talking about school or about us fucking?”
Her full lips slightly parted as her jaw dropped. She shook her head. “Both. I’m talking about both, Milo. And please don’t say it like that. It makes me feel dirty.”
“You are a very dirty girl.”
“Milo,” she yipped.
I shifted in my chair. “You’re uncomfortable with me.”
“Yes. Especially when you say things like that and stare at me during class.”
“Can’t help it. You’re up there.”
“Yes, but…” She glanced around the library and sighed. “Did you mean it when you said you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened between us?”
“Why wouldn’t I mean that?”
“Because I don’t know…you seem…I don’t know…” She tugged her ponytail tighter. “I don’t know how you seem. I don’t know you. I don’t know what to expect, or the type of person you are, or if you’d use that against me somehow if I piss you off or—”
“You think I’m mischievous and conniving.”
Her doe eyes widened, and she shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“It’s what you’re thinking.”
“I…” Her words faltered.
It irritated me that she thought those things about me. She didn’t even know me. She was judging my book by its cover, but if she had any sense, she would’ve looked harder and realized I didn’t give a shit about shit enough to be conniving or sinister toward a person. Yet her unease about me did tick me off slightly.
I hated this new realization, too. Most people didn’t get under my skin, yet for some reason, Starlet was effortlessly doing so.
What’s the deal with you, woman?
Why do you bother me so damn much?
I shifted in my chair and brushed my thumb against the base of my jaw. “Guess you’ll just have to be on your best behavior, huh?”
A flash of panic hit her stare.
Almost felt bad about that, too.
“That’s not fair,” she whispered.
“Life’s not fair. Welcome to the party,” I replied. “Are you going to teach me something, or are you going to sit here and think about the night my tongue was so deep inside you that you came multiple times?”
Her jaw dropped, and tears flooded her stare.
“Not again with the crying. It was a damn joke. Don’t tell me you’re that sensitive,” I grumbled but instantly felt bad. Her emotions did something to me that made me just as uncomfortable as I’d made her. A part of me wanted to soothe her nerves and wash them away because I wanted her to be relaxed. Why did I care about her comfort? She was supposed to be a distraction for me, a thing that kept me from thinking too much about my depressive state. Yet whenever she almost cried, my chest ached. It ate me alive that I was also the cause behind her pained expression. I knew I was an asshole, but I wasn’t that big of an ass. At least, I didn’t want to be.
“I am that sensitive,” she expressed. “And it wasn’t funny. This is my life, Milo. You’re messing with my life.”
“Wrong. Your nerves are messing with your life. And forgive me for taking offense that you think I’d hold that shit over your head to get what I want. I told you I’m a dick, but I’m not that big of a dick. Don’t worry, Starlet. I’m not here to ruin your life. I’m just trying to graduate.” That was true, too, because graduation meant I’d get a letter from Mom. That was the only endgame I had in mind.
“Right. Okay.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a few notebooks. “Let’s get started. I was told you need help with your English course, history, Spanish, and math classes?”
“And photography. That’s based on one big project.”
“Oh, sweet. Lucky for you, hablo espa?ol .”
“I have no clue what you’re saying. I don’t speak Spanish.”
She blankly stared at me and sighed. “Okay. This will be a process, but I’m not a quitter. Everything’s gonna work out fine.”
“Sounds like a quote a millennial would put on a mug and drink under their ‘live, laugh, love’ sign.”
She smiled.
Screw her and her smiles. They felt like warmth in my chilled world.
My chest tightened. Shit. There it was again…the odd feeling of panic building up in my chest. I tried my best to shake the sensation away.
Just think about screwing her. Forget about her smile, Milo.
“My dad says it all the time,” she said. “After my mother passed away when I was young, he’d say it to me every night before bed. ‘Everything’s gonna work out fine.’ At first, I thought he was saying it to make me feel better, but I quickly learned he was saying it to make himself feel better, too. Ever since then, it’s been our thing. It’s like tattooed on my brain whenever I get overwhelmed.”
My chest tightened more as her words replayed in my mind. My hands grew clammy as they formed fists under the table. The early stages of the panic were building second by second as I looked her way. I arched my brow. “You lost your mother?”
“Yeah. I was thirteen.”
“How?”
“Car accident. A drunk driver hit her while she was riding her bike.”
Damn.
At least I saw my mother’s death coming with her illness. A car crash didn’t give people a heads-up at all. Yet sometimes I wondered which was worse—knowing death was around the corner and dragging toward it daily or being completely naive to the fact.
Some days the knowing felt like a tortured clock that kept ticking louder and louder with every passing second.
I looked up at her, feeling an odd urge to divulge a piece of my heartache to her, too. I’d never met someone my age who’d also lost their mother. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t leave my lips.
My mom’s dead, too. She’s gone. Cancer. It will be a year since she’s left in a few weeks. I miss her so much that it’s hard to breathe. Everything around me feels dark, except when I look at you sometimes.
Instead of speaking my truths, I mumbled a quiet, jaded, “Sorry.”
No person should lose their mother. Especially at thirteen.
How did she manage to be okay? To be the good girl she’d been? Part of me wished she could draw a road map of life after losing a parent to let me know how many stops I still had before I’d be okay like her. Most of the time, it felt like I’d never be okay again. The same went for my dad. We were a shell of the people we once were—an echo of our past lives.
She brushed a piece of fallen hair behind her ear. “It’s okay. My dad and I…we’re good.”
“Yeah. Everything’s gonna work out fine,” I muttered, somewhat mocking her saying and somewhat hoping it held some truth to it.
She smiled again.
My tightened chest...
My clammy palms…
My twisted mind…
I shifted in my chair and tapped my notebook. “Where are we starting, Ms. Evans?”
She hesitated as if she would correct me for calling her that, but instead, she said, “English. Let’s start there.”
I nodded and pulled out the homework for the class.
“How did you do on the exam yesterday?” she asked.
I pulled out that paper and placed it in front of her. “Swimmingly,” I mocked.
She frowned.
How was that possible? How was her frown beautiful, too?
“Did he tell you he’s not surprised with how you did?” she questioned.
“Something like that.”
“That’s not okay, Milo.”
“It’s just my reality.”
Her brows knitted together as she shook her head in disappointment. Only this time, she wasn’t directing the disappointment toward me. “Is that the first time he’s made a comment like that?”
“No. Doubt it will be the last, either.”
“Milo.”
“Don’t cry again, Ms. Sensitive. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal.”
“I gave him enough reasons not to believe in me.”
“That’s not his job,” she said, slightly irritated.
Holy shit. This woman didn’t have one bad look within her. Everything was remarkable. That was annoying.
“His job is to educate you, no matter what. Not ridicule you and make you feel lesser for flaws and mistakes you make along the way.”
“If you want to kick his ass for me, by all means,” I semi-joked. I was used to my friends caring about me, but having Starlet care felt extra personal. Having her stand up for me when she didn’t have to did a number on my thoughts. I didn’t know how to define my feelings, but seeing her riled up in my cause felt…good.
Yeah.
She felt good to me.
She chuckled. “I’ll consider it. Or we can get you a passing grade and then prove him wrong repeatedly for the remainder of the semester. If anything, that would tick him off.”
Well, I did like the idea of ticking off my teachers.
“You’re supposed to read Oedipus for tomorrow, yes?”
“I’m not much of a reader,” I confessed. My eyes would zone in and out on the words before me. My eyesight wasn’t the best, both near and far. Half the time, I couldn’t see what was on the whiteboard in front of the classroom, and when it was time to read out loud, I dreaded it. Teachers who made students read out loud in front of their peers deserved a special place in hell.
Here’s looking at you, Mr. Slade.
I probably needed glasses, but I didn’t care enough to get it checked out. My mom was a reader. She loved that shit. I didn’t pick up that trait from her.
“That’s fine,” Starlet replied. “Let me see your cell phone.”
“Are you gonna give me your number?” I joked.
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly.
“What?”
“I can’t tutor you for all these classes within an hour each day. So we’ll have to be in communication after school, too. Some days, we can meet at the library on the weekends to keep you up to date with the work. The first weeks will be hell, but we’ll get through it.”
I liked that she said hell. It sounded sweet on her lips.
“Oh. All right,” I replied.
She tossed me a stern glare. “Don’t misuse this number, Milo.”
“Wouldn’t dare to do such a thing,” I lied. I was already thinking of the messages I could send her as she pounded her digits into my phone.
“Are you a podcast guy?” she questioned. “You seem like a podcast guy.”
“I do the podcast thing now and again. Why?”
“Sometimes, when people aren’t readers, they are listeners or viewers. We can’t view the books you have to read, but we can listen to them. I’m downloading an app for audiobooks on your phone now. Since you’re not a reader, you can listen to the book. Same concept, better outlet for how your mind works.”
That was…thoughtful.
When I once told Mr. Slade I wasn’t a reader, he told me to suck it up, buttercup.
“Thanks,” I mentioned, a bit thrown off by how thoughtful she was being. Then again, I guessed that was her job. I wasn’t getting special treatment or anything.
“Not a problem. Not everyone learns in the same fashion. It’s best to find out what works for everyone and determine how to prepare steps to get them to the same finish line. I’ll also be listening to the book, and each night you can give me a fifteen-minute call to discuss what took place in those chapters so you’re prepared for anything Mr. Slade might present you with.”
“All right. Sounds good.” Truly, it sounded great. The idea of hearing her voice each night before bed felt like a gift of sorts. Something about the sound of her voice was so appealing. It held a breathy quality, coming out so gently with such a slow tempo. When we were studying, it had an extra dash of distinct assertiveness that I found wildly attractive.
Teach me, Ms. Evans. I like when you do that.
She continued writing a guideline to tackle each class without overwhelming me. That was something I dealt with, too. Sometimes—all the time—I’d let everything pile up so much that when I looked at how much needed to be done, I’d do none because it was impossible to decide where to begin.
Not only did Starlet make it seem doable, but she made it seem effortless. She even scheduled time for me to relax and have a life outside of schoolwork.
“Breaks are needed. That’s when your brain can rest and recover so you can tackle things better. Therefore, Sundays are off for you. No work at all,” she explained.
“You’re shitting me,” I told her.
“I am not shitting you,” she replied. “It’s important. Our hour is up, but please listen to the book’s first two chapters tonight. You can text me to discuss it or call any time after seven in the evening. I’ll be back in my dorm and finished with most of my work for the night.”
“They must be paying you nicely to do this for me. That’s a lot of your life taken away from you.”
With a smile, she packed up her briefcase and stood. “They aren’t paying me at all for this. I’m happy to do it for free. I’ll see you tomorrow but hear from you tonight.”
I saw why she wanted to be a teacher. She was good at it. Great, even.
As she left, my eyes followed her exit.
I picked up my phone and went to look at the number and name she had left on my phone.
Teach. Just call me Teach.
Shit.
I liked her sass.
That was going to be a problem for me.