Glancing around the bookstore, I let the peace and quiet attempt to calm my jumbled thoughts. Sully got home from the brewery after I’d gone to bed last night. For the past two weeks I felt like we were doing some kind of dance around each other. The night we spent together was hot. Smoking. It just reinforced for me that the night back in April had not been exaggerated in my imagination. The things that man could do to me I’d thought only belonged in the world of my romance stories.
And so, the question begs, what the hell was I doing?
I’d woken up that next morning in a panic. Sully’s arms around me and I wanted nothing more than to curl into them, feel his strength surround me. Then that damn inner voice chimed in, reminding me that the plan was to leave, not to get comfortable. That he was a good guy, but this wasn’t his plan. That I wasn’t his plan.
My inner voice is a bitch, I know. I’m thinking of naming her Hilda.
And yet I snuck out of that room like some kick-ass ninja. I threw on some clothes and took off with absolutely nowhere I needed to be until I’d killed enough time and he’d be out of the house and off to work. Let’s face it. I was a chicken.
Sully had been, as usual, amazing about it. When he came home the night of my great escape, he cooked. We watched TV. And then he brought it up. There is no other way around it, I panicked. Rational thought left the building. I was consumed with the notion that I was going to lose him, which was absolutely ridiculous but still overwhelming at the time, and my damn waterworks turned on.
Again.
Looking at Sully, I had told him I needed a friend right now, which was true, but what the hell was wrong with me? Being Sully, he of course agreed. And so fourteen days passed—fourteen—and nada. No horizontal action. Not one bit. Clearly I was an idiot.
And Sully? Still wonderful. He’d spent the past week cementing the notion that I would never find anyone else like him.Never.He’d been affectionate, rubbed my back often, hugged me when my hormones made me weepy, massaged my feet while we watched movies, made me tea in the morning, but nothing more. No kisses, apart from the occasional quick touch to my forehead. No more mentions of the night we spent in his bed.
He was completely respectful, and it was driving me crazy.
God, the man was perfect. He was doing exactly as I’d asked repeatedly, and I just wanted to jump him. What was wrong with me?
The bell over the door sounded, shaking me from my inner turmoil. Glancing up, I saw two guys in quiet conversation as they moved in and straight over to the fiction section of the store. I studied their faces, trying to figure out if they were former students or not. They had baseball hats pulled low, so it was hard to get a good read on who they were. Hazarding a guess, I’d put them at late high school or early college age.
“Let me know if I can help you,” I called out.
One boy nodded, turning back to scan the spines in front of him. The other nodded in thanks and then gave me a second look. I saw the look of recognition on his face, meaning I had certainly taught him, and braced for a reaction.
“Ms. Jameson?” he said quietly. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but I had you for language arts in seventh grade six years ago. I think it was your first year? Taylor. Taylor Alman.”
Warmth flooded my veins as I remembered that first class. They were beyond understanding and kind, two adjectives people often didn’t associate with middle school kids. They had helped me find my way. I absolutely remembered Taylor. Sweet and shy, I had worried about him as he struggled to figure out where he fit in to the middle school hierarchy. Coming around the counter, I grinned at his boyish expression of happiness in this adult male body.
“Of course I remember you, Taylor. But thanks for saying your name. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times people ask me if I remember them and my brain freezes up. It’s horrible.” I leaned against the counter, eager to catch up with Taylor and see where he’d ended up. Though Highland Falls was a small community, I couldn’t keep track of all the paths of my former students. “So what are you up to?”
Taylor pulled off his baseball hat, running his hand through his blond hair. “I just finished up my first year at the University of Chicago where I’m studying business. I’m still not sold on my major, but so far it’s been okay.”
“I’m so glad to hear that,” I said. “It can take a while to feel like you’ve found the right path for you. I wouldn’t stress too much, just see what’s out there.” I glanced from Taylor to his friend who was still browsing, then back to Taylor. I didn’t think I knew the other kid.
“John, come here for a sec,” Taylor said to the other kid. He was Taylor’s age, but I definitely didn’t recognize him. John’s dark skin would have, unfortunately, stood out in our small town. While our population was gradually becoming more diverse, we still had a long way to go. I hadn’t taught John, but maybe he moved in after seventh grade.
“Ms. Jameson, this is John Sweeney. We both go to the University of Chicago, and he’s down visiting my family this weekend,” Taylor began.
“Pleasure to meet you,” John said. After shaking my hand, he moved back by Taylor and stood close by. I glanced between the two of them, struck suddenly by the casual familiarity they shared, and realized this wasn’t just a good friend but in all likelihood, a whole lot more. Thinking back, I didn’t remember Taylor being out in middle school, but that wasn’t shocking. A whole lot of kids are struggling to figure out who they are at that age, in many different ways.
“Pleasure to meet you too, John.” I nodded toward Taylor. “I hope he’s showing you all the great parts of Highland Falls.”
“He sure is. I’m from Chicago, so it’s a bit of a cultural shock in some ways, but I can see what Taylor loves about this place.” John quickly glanced at his watch before speaking in a lower voice to Taylor. “We only have twenty minutes before we need to meet your mom at the deli. I’m going to finish looking for that book so we can head.” Taylor nodded and ran a hand over John’s lower back as he walked away before turning to me.
I smiled at him and nodded toward John, “Is that new?”
Taylor gave me an impish grin. “Being out or the relationship?”
I laughed, grateful he could talk about his sexuality with ease. “Either.”
Taylor shook his head. “Actually, no on both counts. I came out to my family at the start of high school. To my friends and classmates shortly after that. And I met John at freshman orientation, and within weeks we began dating.” His eyes looked a bit lost in thought for a moment before he continued. “Everything is good.”
“I’m so glad.”
“Actually, Ms. Jameson, I really am glad I ran into you here. I’ve always wanted to thank you,” Taylor said softly.
