Текст книги "From the Wreckage"
Автор книги: Melissa Collins
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
Even if there’s a need for them, there’s no room for any words. The only thing there’s space for is the heated need brewing between us. With our eyes locked together in a force that would rival the gravity of a star, we stumble toward the bed. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we fall to the bed. She rolls us so that she’s straddling my hips.
So slowly that it’s bordering on torturous, she glides the tank top over her head, letting it drift to the floor. As if drawn to her body by some kind of magnetic force, my hands move to her breasts. “No hands. No touching,” she demands, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. For the briefest of seconds, I question if she’s had too much champagne, but the brightness in her eyes tells me this is all her.
It’s all Grace.
Leaning her body down onto mine, her soft skin brushes against mine. Pressing her lips to my ear, she whispers, “I want to take care of you, like you’ve taken care of me.”
Moving to kiss her, I’m more than frustrated when she pulls back. Laughing softly at me, she says, “I told you. I’m taking care of you.” To prove her point, and test my control, she licks the seam of my lips, forcing them to part. Her tongue dives into my mouth, demanding kisses in return. Fisting the sheet at my sides, I exercise as much restraint as possible in not touching her.
But the lush curves of her creamy, soft skin are taunting me, teasing me. With every move, her skin sets mine on fire. Trailing kisses down my neck and chest, she licks a path down the center of my stomach, smiling up at me when my muscles twitch. Lifting my hips as she tugs on the waistband of my shorts, I give her the help she needs to rid me of the rest of my clothes.
“Your body.” Her inhale is ragged as she searches for more words. “It’s beautiful,” she says, moving her lips once again across my stomach.
As she moves further down my body, she wiggles out of her shorts, adding them to the pile with mine. Clothed, she’s the ideal image of beauty, but naked, and poised between my legs, looking at me with passionate hunger in her eyes, it’s like being sent an angel directly from Heaven.
A flash of uncertainty mars her serene face. Throwing away her no touching rule, I pull her up into my arms, letting her head rest on my chest. “Shh,” I whisper, kissing against her temple.
“I just want to make you happy,” she admits. “And I started to get worried it would suck.”
“Aww, sweetheart,” I laugh. “It’s supposed to suck.”
She looks up at me, confused. Then she gets it.
Yes, I totally just made a ‘suck’ joke regarding a blow job.
Slapping a hand to my chest, she laughs.
As our laughter subsides, sparks of electricity race over my skin where her hand is. Covering it with my own adds to the feeling. Angling her head, she looks up at me, innocence and eagerness mixing in the ocean blue depths. With one last kiss to her forehead, I guide her hand down my body.
When her long fingers under my own wrap around my dick, my body trembles. Pushing up into our grip, I have to bite my lip to keep from coming in her hand. “Like this?” she asks, knowing full well that everything about the way she’s touching me is fucking perfect. All she gets is a low growl of approval.
Within a few strokes, we catch a rhythm and I remove my hand, letting her find her own pace. Watching her look down at my cock disappearing under her hands, I see the fire and passion in her eyes. Her tongue licks at her lips, hunger pulsating from her body. The whole thing is too much for me to take. Moisture trickles over her fingers, trailing down to the base of my cock.
Staying on my side, she slides down my body, kissing along my ribs as she moves. Hooking her leg over mine, I feel her wet heat on my leg, making me harder than I’ve ever been in my life. With her hand wrapped around my dick, she inches closer with her face.
A flick of the tongue is all it takes to make me writhe next to her. “Did that hurt?” she asks, worry pulling her brows together.
“Seriously?” Combing my fingers through her hair, I kiss her head. “The only thing that hurts right now is that you stopped.”
Encouraged and emboldened by my words, she climbs between my legs, keeping my dick in her shaking hand. With a few more strokes, I’m dripping all over her hand. “You’re so big, one hand barely does anything.” Adding the other only pushes me closer to the edge.
“Grace,” I growl her name, biting my lip. “I can’t take much more. Your hands. Oh, fuck . . .”
“So then I better stop,” she teases, rearing up on her knees. “I mean, if I want this to last and all.”
With one hand lazily stroking over my ready-to-explode dick, she moves the other over her body. Up her stomach. Between her breast. Through her hair.
Pinching a nipple, her hips roll, near shaking. She slides her legs open, making room as her hand moves back down her stomach. Watching her fingers disappear into her slick pussy, I lose another piece of my restraint.
For someone who was told they didn’t know what they were doing, Grace is proving right here and now that she’s a master of seduction. Moving her fingers over her clit, she grinds against her hand, letting the one on my dick slow.
And thank fucking God she does because if she keeps touching me while she touches herself, I’d shoot my load all over my stomach.
“Oh, God,” she groans, rocking back and forth on her shaking legs. Abandoning my cock all together, she toys with her nipples with one hand as she rubs furious circles over her clit with the other.
Sitting up in front of her, I wrap an arm around her waist. Nudging her hand out of the way, I lick across her nipple before pulling it into my mouth. “David, oh, God, I’m . . . oh, my God . . .”
The steady pace of her hand turns frantic. The only sounds in the room are those of her panting with need and her fingers plunging in and out of her wet pussy. “I’m coming . . . oh, fuck . . . I can’t hold on . . .”
“Then let go,” I murmur against her breast before pulling her nipple back into my mouth.
And when she does, it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. Her back arches. Her legs quake. Her skin flushes.
The world stops spinning as Grace comes with wild abandon in my arms. Slack and loose, her body moves from rigid to pliable. Kissing her neck, I move my lips to her ear, whispering, “Beautiful. You’re absolutely beautiful when you come.”
Pulling my face to hers, she captures my lips in a hot kiss. “And now I want to see what you look like when you come.”
A feather light touch pushes me down to the bed. The hunger that was in her eyes before is now amplified by the power of her orgasm. My dick is aching with a need so powerful, it’s literally throbbing against my stomach.
Without holding anything back, flattening her tongue, she licks from base to tip, coating me in one broad stroke. “Oh, fuck.”
When she wraps her mouth around the broad head of my dick, I have to physically restrain myself from pushing in further. Inch by painstaking fucking inch, she takes more and more of my cock into her sweet mouth. What I first thought to be unsure timidity is nothing more than lust-filled torture. Looking up at me with hooded eyes, my dick halfway in her mouth, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her hair falls over her face, a red veil concealing her devilish ways.
Pushing it out of the way, I gather what I can and fist it in my hand. Just as my fingers knot securely at her scalp, she takes the full length of my dick into her throat. Her hand on the base holds me steady for a second as she struggles to catch a rhythm with her mouth. Not wanting her to feel anything but hot as fuck, I move my other hand to the side of her face. “Like this, sweetheart.” With a motion meant to guide and not to force, I guide her mouth over my cock, feeling it press against her cheek from the outside on every movement.
Her hand moves in time with her mouth, effortlessly flying over my throbbing dick. “Gracie, I’m . . . you might want to move, sweetheart.”
Shaking her head, she pushes my hand away from her jaw. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she hollows her cheeks, taking me further and further into her throat. “Oh, fuck! Fucking hell. I’m coming . . . Grace . . . I’m . . . Oh, God!”
Her eyes widen as the first of my orgasm spurts into her mouth, but she swallows every last drop of everything I give her. Licking me clean, she holds my softening dick in her hand. Breathing wildly, I watch as she kisses up the length of my body. Nuzzling into the crook of my neck, she curls against my body, wrapping around me like a vine.
Silence settles around us as her fingers dance through the hair on my chest. “Did that, um, was it–”
“The best blow job I’ve ever had?” I question rhetorically.
A shy smile pulls at her lips before she worries her lower lip with her teeth. Looking up at me, she’s being serious in wanting to know how she did.
“Sweetheart, that was the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.” Stroking my thumb along her lip, she nibbles on it, smiling up at me. “Every single thing you did was perfect. But this,”—I tug her closer to my body even though there’s no space between us—“right now, with you next to me, wrapped in my arms, smiling at me, this is what takes the cake.” Words too significant to give voice to die on my lips, but they vibrate in my heart.
With her head on my chest and my fingers in her hair, we drift to sleep in a bubble of complete and utter contentment.
Day one of a new job is never easy for anyone, I’m assuming. But today might just be the most nervous I’ve ever been in my life. Of course, everyone has assured me I’ll be fine—more than fine actually. But there’s something about walking into a room filled with teachers whose collective experience adds up to more than twice your age that’s overwhelmingly daunting.
And these are the teachers who sign up to work in July. Who does that?
Needless to say, when my new boss, Principal Gallagher, asked me to be a member of the curriculum writing team, I couldn’t say no. Yet now, as I pull into the parking lot, I’m wishing I could have come up with some kind of excuse.
Yeah, yeah, I already know I need to put on my big girl panties and be confident, but holy crap am I intimidated. Looking to the two cars parked on each side of me—a black Mercedes and a grey B.M.W., I already feel way out of my league. My used Toyota Camry brings down the gross income of the parking lot by far more than I’d like to admit.
I wave my new I.D. badge over the card reader at the entrance and breathe a sigh of relief when it actually works. Last week when I came up to fill out some more paperwork and take the hideous picture for the badge in my hand, the security guard told me the system was usually on the fritz. He laughed when he told me he let a teacher in who’d been stuck outside for over thirty minutes because the one secretary in the main office was on her lunch break.
Draping the badge around my neck—on the school issued lanyard—I walk down the main hallway at the end of which is the library. Straightening my navy blue jacket, I take a deep breath before pushing the doors open.
You can do this, Grace.
The icy blast of the air conditioning is a welcome respite to the near broiling heat of the rest of the building. The main room of the library is huge¸ shelves of books lining every inch of the walls. There’s a computer station and a bank of laptops. And despite it being a library, it feels open and airy, not stuffy and archaic. Like the true nerd I am, I smile thinking of all the learning that must go on in here.
Chatter from one of the side classrooms pulls my attention away from my dorky musings. The classroom is separated from the main room by large windows, allowing me to see inside before anyone catches sight of me. Stopping dead in my tracks, embarrassment washes over me. Even though they’re some of the most experienced teachers in the building, and they make more money than I can fathom, they’re all dressed far more casually than I am. From what I can see, everyone is wearing T-shirts and shorts. Sitting around a large table, they’re watching one of those silly cat videos on the large projector screen at the front of the room. Laughter bubbles in my chest watching a kitten fall off a table as it chases its tail.
Looking down at my freshly pressed suit and briefcase in hand, I realize I’m about to be the laughing stock of this summer’s curriculum writing project. With a quick look at the clock, I realize I might have enough time to race home and change. I can simply claim I got lost and that’s why I’m late.
Yep, that’s what I’m going to do.
Turning away from the room, I somehow manage to trip over my own two feet as my heel gets caught in the carpet. My briefcase flies from my hands, crashing into a cart of books in need of re-shelving. Books tumble to the floor and catches the attention of my waiting colleagues.
Sprawled out on the floor, I can’t do anything but laugh at my own clumsiness. Sitting up, I look down at my legs. My pantyhose are torn at the knees and blood drips down my shins.
Stellar first impression.
Gingerly, I brace myself on all fours, trying to stand as gracefully as possible. That’s when I see a pair of muscled legs standing before me. Looking up, he’s holding my briefcase and wearing a huge smile. “You okay?” he asks, stifling a laugh.
Taking his out-stretched hand, I pull myself up and stand before him. “Fine, thank you,” I answer, trying to look as composed as possible.
“Tim,” he introduces himself, handing me my briefcase. “And you must be Grace.” Laughing at my name, he looks me over. “Rather ironic, huh?” he jokes. “Falling on your ass like that with a name like Grace.”
Losing himself to a silly fit of laughter, it’s easy not to be mad at him. He’s not much older than me, his face young and carefree. “My parents clearly didn’t think that one through, huh?” I laugh with him.
“Clearly,” he agrees, running his hand through his light blond hair. “Well, Grace,” he emphasizes my name, “it’s a pleasure to meet you. June mentioned we’d be sharing a room this year,” he explains, walking us into the classroom.
As I step in front of him, he puts his hand on my lower back ushering me into the room. An unsettled feeling brews in my gut as he introduces me to the group as his new roommate. I know he means well, and that he’s just trying to be friendly, but the combination of the casual friendliness in his voice and the ease with which he’s putting his hand on me, it’s throwing me off.
The rest of the teachers introduce themselves and we share a collective laugh at my entrance. Tim pulls out a seat next to him for me to sit in. Seeing as it’s the only free spot, I take it and try to push back the feeling of unease. “Grace, this is Kathy, Lauren, Doug, and Mike.” Shaking hands with each of them, I thank them for allowing me to be a part of their team.
“Nice to meet you, Grace.” Lauren smiles at me from across the table. “Are you okay?” she asks, tipping her head out to where I fell on my ass.
“Yeah, I’ll live.” Laughing about it is the only way to make the embarrassment go away.
“I’ve got an even better one for you,” Doug chimes in. “I was walking up the stairs, piles of papers in my hands and of course, I figured I could carry my coffee as well. I actually tripped up the stairs.”
“Oh no,” I gasp, laughing.
“Oh yes,” he continues. “Papers and coffee went everywhere. I had to lay the papers out on the windowsill so they could dry off. My room smelled like coffee for days after that.”
“Well, at least you didn’t trip over your own shoelaces and fly face first into a couple making out,” Tim adds to the horror stories.
“That’s . . . wow, that’s just awful.”
“You’re telling me.” Tim laughs along with everyone else. “I was face-to-face with pretty much the worst threesome you could ever imagine.”
After a few more horror stories, some their own, and some belonging to their fellow co-workers, we’re all laughed out. With the focus off my less-than-graceful entrance, I feel much more relaxed with this group of new people.
Half an hour into the first task, I feel even more at ease. Mixing work with funny stories about the students and teachers of the building, I realize just how lucky I am to be a part of this group. They really do seem to be nice people. Even Tim, who I must admit is really easy on the eyes, has proven to be funny and smart and not at all creepy like I thought he’d turn out to be.
As the hours move on, I’m in awe of the group’s collective intelligence. In complete contrast to their casual appearance, every teacher here is articulate and creative. My brain hurts by the end of the day. Their ideas and enthusiasm are almost too much to take in. Whatever apprehension I was feeling earlier is completely erased as they embrace and encourage my participation. By the end of the day, my mind is racing with a million different ideas for lessons in the upcoming school year. At the end of the session, we share some ideas about what we’ll work on tomorrow and I offer to bring in some muffins for breakfast.
“I’ll walk you to your car, Grace,” Tim offers, holding the door open for me as I walk out of the library.
“Okay,” I accept, suddenly nervous.
“So what did you think of today?”
“It was good. I learned a lot. How do you think it went?” Of course he agrees. It really was a good day. As we walk to the car, the conversation is filled with talk of who will use which side of the room and how we’ll divide the bulletin board.
“Sounds good, Tim. And thanks again for helping me earlier.”
“No problem.” He leans against the rear panel of my car. “It’s great having you aboard.”
“Yeah, I’m excited. I just moved out here for this job so it’s nice to know it was worth it.”
“From where?” he asks, genuinely interested.
“I grew up in New Jersey, but went to college in Manhattan. I just moved out here a few weeks ago.”
“Well then.” The tone of his voice sounds as if he’s just come to a monumental decision. “I’ll have to take you out. Show you the lay of the land. Help you get used to your new hometown.” With each word he moves closer to me, leaning into my personal space. His motives are not nearly as hidden as they should be.
“Thanks, but really it’s okay.” After I open the door, I drop my briefcase inside. Deliberating for a second on how to say it, I felt like an idiot trying to tell him about David. In all my experience with men, which isn’t much, I was never good with being able to tell if a guy was interested in me. Maybe Tim is simply being nice and offering his help, but there’s something in his smile and his eyes suggesting that this is more than an offer of friendship. “Um, I,” I start lamely. Digging for my confidence, I say, “I have a boyfriend.”
Oh, my God. I sound like a dope.
“Oh, okay.” There’s dejection in his words and I have to say, I’m more than a little proud at being able to read the situation correctly. “Well, my offer still stands. I mean we will be working together for oh, I don’t know, like the next twenty or twenty-five years.” Recovering quickly, he laughs, smiling at me. “But seriously. I was just trying to be a friend.”
“Thank you. Maybe I’ll take you up on that tour one day.” Sliding into my seat, I say goodbye through the window. “See you tomorrow.”
“Bye.” He smiles at me as I pull away. Maybe it’s a little duller than the smiles he gave me the rest of the day, but there’s still a friendly air about him making me believe he is a decent guy.
The first thing I do when I get home is change and clean up my knees, which are now a lovely shade of bluish purple. It’s still an adjustment living alone, but it’s one I’m really enjoying. Besides, on the stretches when David isn’t working, he spends most of his time here. As I toss my heels into the closet, I smile when they land next to David’s extra pair of running shoes. It makes me think back to this morning.
“ Why are you up? ” I groaned, curling around him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Lacing up his sneakers, he chuckled at me and my drowsiness.
“ You ’ re kind of adorable when you ’ re tired. ” Twisting around, he pulled me into his arms completely. “ And believe me, I would love to stay here and waste the day away with your legs wrapped around my hips. ” He arched a brow, smiling at me. “ But I have work tonight and you have work in like an hour. ”
Sweetly, he pressed his lips to mine, completely ignoring my morning breath. “ You have way too much energy after last night. ” Stretching, I raised my arms above my head and the sheet fell away.
“ You ’ re a temptress, you know, ” he said, trailing a finger down the center of my exposed breasts.
“ Who me? ” I asked, feigning innocence.
“ Yes, you. ” His strong hand, rough and calloused, cupped my breast, pulling my nipple into a stiff peak. “ A beautiful goddess, who is making me very late for my morning run. ” His last words were mumbled against my skin before he sucked my nipple into his mouth, the scratch of his two-day-old beard leaving red lines on my skin.
The soft clunk of his sneakers preceded my cries of pleasure as his tongue worked an early morning orgasm from my body.
As if he could sense I was thinking about him, my phone skittered across the table. A picture of me and David flashed across the screen, me kissing his cheek and him with a gigantic smile on his gorgeous face. “Hey, you,” I answer the call.
“Hey, beautiful. So how was it?” he asks, excitement flowing through his words.
I tell him about my stupendous entrance and how everyone else had their own horror stories to share. “Oh, Gracie.” He laughs into the line after making sure I’m okay.
“Yeah, not my finest moment, but otherwise it was a really great day. I met my roommate.”
“Is she nice?”
“He is. His name is Tim. He actually helped me when I fell. You know the whole damsel in distress deal.” I laugh. Busying myself with pouring a glass of wine, I don’t even realize the silence permeating the line. It’s so quiet I actually have to pull the phone away from my ear to see that the call is still connected. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” His voice is curt and cold. “So tell me about Tim.”
“Seriously, David?”
“What?” he grouches. “Have you seen you? Is it so terrible I want to keep you all to myself?”
Sipping down a mouthful of Pinot, I smile around the rim of the glass. “Don’t worry. I was wearing my I heart David Andrews T-shirt. You know the one that says ‘He’s a big strong scary fireman. Keep back 500 feet’ on the back,” I joke.
“Oh, good,” he plays right along. “I knew you’d get use out of that one.”
“You’re an ass.”
“Yep, I sure am. But you know what?” I can picture his dark brown eyes shimmering with humor, his face pulling into a wide and gorgeous smile.
“You’re my ass,” I answer him, loving that little inside joke.
“Damn straight, sweetheart. But Tim aside,” his name comes from David’s mouth sounding more like a curse than anything else, “the day was good?”
“It was perfect. I have a bunch of ideas to work on tonight and I’m really excited to be part of the team.”
“That’s great, babe. I’m really proud of you.”
“How about you? Did you get lots of studying in? Are you ready for Friday?” With his Lieutenant’s test looming, he’s been cramming like crazy. This means lots of time seeing David in his glasses and lots of time making out with him in his glasses.
“I did. Even had some time to take a practice test today, too. I think I’m as ready as can be.”
“Good, baby. I can’t wait to see you kick that test’s ass.”
“Okay. I need to get in gear if I want to beat the traffic. I’m on until tomorrow night and back for another tour Wednesday through Thursday. I had to pull a mutual to have the right time off for the test,” he explains. His job is so demanding, there have been a few weeks when we’ve barely seen each other. It’s not easy, but he loves his job and I love him so it works.
“Then I’ll see you Friday night for dinner. We’ll celebrate the test finally being over.” A devious smile splits my face thinking about how we’ll actually spend the time celebrating. “I’ll even cook for you.”
“Sounds perfect, sweetheart. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Be safe. I lo–” Stopping myself before the last of those three words fall from my lips, I nearly drop my glass of wine to the table.
“Grace.” My name sounds more like a question than a statement.
Playing it off as if that didn’t just almost happen, I say, “Yeah, who do you think you’ve been talking to?”
“Did you just start to say what I think you were going to say?”
Shrugging, I laugh at myself realizing he can’t see me. I consider saying no, but there’s no point in lying. But before I can admit it, he interrupts me.
“You know I feel the same way,” he admits, not actually saying the words.
“You do?” I gasp into the line, more than shocked at his easy admission.
“Of course I do, sweetheart.” I can hear the shyness in his words, but their meaning is in no way diminished by it. “But I won’t say them now. And I don’t want you to say them either.”
“Oh,” I sigh, dejected.
“When we say them, I want you to be in my arms, preferably naked. I want to be able to brush that beautiful red hair of yours out of your eyes so I can get lost in their depths when I tell you exactly how I feel about you. And if you say them now, I won’t be able to taste your sinfully sweet lips against mine. I’m not very good at delaying gratification, so until I see you again, just know I can’t wait to say them to you.”
Completely astounded by his confession, I smile into the line like a lovesick teenager. “I can’t wait either.”
“Something bothering you?” Tim asks around a mouthful of turkey sandwich. It’s the last day of the curriculum writing project, and since Tim and I worked through lunch most days, we decided an hour out of the building on a Friday afternoon would do us some good. Tim has been talking about this deli all week, so today we figured we’d go there.
Pulling my distracted stare away from the clock ticking on the wall, I shrug. “I’m fine. It’s just today is a big day.”
“Oh, really?” Wiping away the crumbs from his mouth, he turns in his seat. “How so? What’s going on?”
I’d like to say it’s because we’re the closest in age, or because we’ll be sharing a room that we’ve gotten along really well this past week. But the truth is that he’s a really nice guy and he’s been more than helpful. “It’s my boyfriend.”
In a look that rivals the one Ross gave Rachel whenever she mentioned Mark’s name, Tim’s eyes widen, his attention sharpening. “Everything okay with you two? Is something going on?” Trying my best to keep my focus solely on work the entire week, I haven’t brought anything up about David and his test today.
“Yes, we’re fine,” I snap—which is mostly unnecessary. It’s been a demanding week and not seeing David at all has only added to the stress mounting toward today.
Holding up his hands in a mock defense, he says, “Okay. Okay. Just checking.” After taking a sip of his drink, he pushes on, “So then what is it?”
The floodgates open and after rambling on about the Lieutenant’s test and how important it is to David, more information than I should say spills out of my mouth. “This is his dream job. Hell, it isn’t even a job for him. It’s his life.” Resting my elbows on the table, I hold my head in my hands.
“And?” Tim probes, not understanding what I’m getting at. “Then wouldn’t this promotion be a good thing?”
“Oh, yeah.” Lifting my head, I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends. “But what if . . .” Not able to stomach the rest of that thought, I can’t find the words to bring it to life.
“Hey.” Tim calls my attention away from my dead stare at the table. “Listen. Is he any good at his job?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I clip. “Of course he is. He’s the best out there. Smart, careful. Don’t you dare–”
“No, Grace,” he interrupts. “What I mean is if he’s good at his job, the best in the field as you say he is, then you can’t waste your energy worrying about what might happen.” The knot of tension in my gut loosens a touch as he continues. “If you spend your life worrying about what could be, you’ll never leave yourself enough time to enjoy what is.”
His words need no contemplation. Their raw honesty hits me in the face with a revelation I should have been able to come to on my own. Because he’s right. Every second I worry about not having David in my life, about something happening to him, is a second I waste not loving the fact that he is in my life in a very real and loving way.
“I’m sorry for overreacting.” Offering him a lame smile, he accepts my apology. “Smart man,” I say, tapping the side of my head. “Where’d you read that one?”
Tim shakes his head. “That one’s all mine.”
“It’s good. You should hang it in your room or something,” I suggest.
“It’s painted on the wall actually. And it’s our room.” He smiles warmly at me, tipping his head at the clock. “Now hurry up. We don’t want to be late coming back from lunch.”
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Nervousness and anxiety over not receiving a text from David when the test is over pulls my focus away from everything.
At three o’clock, we finally wrap up our last session. After sending an email to Principal Gallagher, outlining our progress, we all leave the building. The midafternoon sun is blinding and it’s broiling hot out. I make a mental note to schedule an appointment to have an auto-start installed in the car. It would be nice to walk into an already cooled-down car, but for now, I’ll have to deal with the scorching heat.
When I turn the key in the ignition, nothing happens. “Oh, great,” I groan over the rather horrid noise of my engine grinding. For whatever reason, call it morbid curiosity, I try turning the key again. Not shockingly, it still doesn’t work. Resting my head against the steering wheel, I curse the car gods.
It’s not much cooler outside of the car, but sitting in the car, burning the backs of my legs on the leather, is fairly stupid on my part. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I lean up against the closed door. Punching out a quick text, I eagerly await David’s reply.
