Chapter One
"Anotheremail?"
I sit back in my chair and sigh, staring at the screen. Classes don't start until Monday and already this Nelson Hargraves student has emailed me twice. This being the third email. At least he has the decency to use correct grammar and be polite, but I don't want this to become a thing. Fresh out of high school students, or those with rich parents, thinking they can get on my good side at the beginning of the class term and be able to coast through.
Not happening. Not on my watch.
I open the email and scan it. It's only two paragraphs, so better than the full page email sent last week when enrollment happened. We will do introductions on day one, but I already know what I need to about Nelson. Well, I assume most of it. He comes from a small family, which probably means only child to two parents that never say no. Hehasto pass this class. Whichtells me he's probably an average student that is going to pull some type of card around the last week of class to pull the grade up. There's always one student that does it.
I can't stand students that don't put in the work.
I swear I'm not grumpy; I grew up around people who have had everything handed to them. It's not my style. Not anymore.
This email is a bit different, though. He is simply confirming if the students will actually need the textbook for the class on the first day or if he'd be okay to have it within a week or two. The summer classes are only eight weeks, so not having it for a fourth of the time will be pushing it a bit. We'll be covering a chapter a day, meeting twice a week for three hours at a time.
I send a quick email back that I can help him out with making copies for the first week but it would be ideal that he get the book as soon as he can.
I close out of the emails and look at the stack of folders. It's Friday evening and I'm in my office on a mostly deserted campus. I'm thirty. I should be out with friends, or trying to make some at least. Instead, I'm signed up for a summer class. An eight in the morning summer class. And I'm here, making copies and getting my shit together.
There is no amount of money or threats of Hell that could make me tell my family I made a mistake, that I wasn't ready to go out on my own. I'm grateful that I did it, that I got away from that lifestyle of using and abusing power over others. I won't lie; it's hard going from having money to blow through on the weekends to having to budget down to the dimes to make sure rent is paid on time. Not that I'm not making good money now working at the college, because I am (finally), but I was a long term substitute teacher at the local high school for two years before I got this.
I have a couple night semesters under my belt and figured signing up to do the summer class was a great way to one, getmore money, and two, show that I'm a good teacher despite my age. Working at the high school for the last two years, I wanted something different, a bit more focused of what I went to school for.
Of course, my degree is in business with a minor in finance. That was when I was still under my father's thumb. He thought I would take over part of the business once I graduated. Like my brother has already done. That was the plan, but then I met Hayley and everything changed. Hayley became my best friend all through the years at Chicago University. We were solely platonic, her being a lesbian and myself being gay, but we were soulmates in other ways. Still are, just from a very long distance. I haven't seen her in about a year, with me living here and her and her wife and almost baby on the West coast, it's not as simple as hopping on a plane anymore. But she came from the families that my dad stepped on to get where he is today. Hearing her struggles, how she had to work weekends and holidays, apply for dozens of scholarships, and still take out loans just to afford her tuition, opened my eyes to how fortunate I was.
The copies are done within a few minutes and I check my phone. No notifications, but I clock that it's almost seven. I decide I should at least grab dinner. The campus is deserted when I walk down the hall and out the door. Glennview College has two sides, on either side of a busy street, with a bridge that connects them. The more artsy side of campus is on the side with the bookstore and admissions building. My classes this summer are on the other side, in the business building. It's sat between the new Science building that I swear is more glass than any other component, and the Maths department. We have the library on our end, which is great for me because I'm a secret nerd and the second floor has a great fiction section.
When I get to my car, the sound of the lock echoes around the parking lot. It's plenty bright out, the sun has yet to set for another hour, so I'm not worried about being here alone. It feels like a whole different world from a few weeks ago when Finals were happening. The roster for my summer class is small, since most college students don't want to take summer classes. I have twenty students instead of the forty-some I had just a few weeks ago.
The city of Glennview isn't big. It has a downtown area that is popular on the weekends, with a whopping one known gay club. The surrounding land and towns are mostly farm or forest. I haven't been out much, with work taking up most of my life. There is the occasional hookup from Grindr, but no one that I've really clicked with. Not that I'm looking, but still. It'd be nice to meet someone for more than one night.
I roll the windows down as I drive. We're at the beginning of July now, just after the holiday, and the weather is warm. I glance down at the dashboard and see I have three-fourths of a tank of gas. I don't have anyone waiting at the house for me and plenty of time before I need to get home. And I have nothing planned tomorrow.
Acting on impulse, I check my mirrors and get into the far left lane. I know that two turns will take me to the road that leads out of the city. I stop and grab a convenience store meal before getting too far, though. I turn my music up, a folksy country playlist that I felt appropriate for the moment.
Watching the city fall behind me as I drive toward nothingness is more relaxing than I thought it'd be. I don't know where I'm going, exactly, but I have GPS to get me home. Within thirty minutes, I find myself on a two-lane road with fields on either side. I'm not sure what is being grown, but it's green as far as I can see and beautiful. There is a mountain range in the distanceto my right. I slow down when I see brake lights ahead. There's a line of cars going at a crawling pace.
When the two cars in front of me speed up into the other lane and pass, I see it's a tractor on the road. I didn't know they were allowed to drive on the roads like this. The tractor is green but the peeling paint and rusted spots tell it's age. The tires alone are about the height of my car. Another car from behind me passes. I realize that I probably should go around him, but something about just going slow with no real destination or time restraint is growing on me.
There's a man driving. I can't see the guy's face, but I can make out the muscles in his arm he has outstretched. I haven't a single clue what he's doing, but the tight, black shirt he has on is working for him. Out of habit, I check my rearview mirror. There are four cars behind me now. I sigh, knowing my ogling is over. I check to make sure the stretch of road is clear before swerving around the tractor and cutting back into the lane. I glance in the rearview mirror and— Shit. Fuck.
Damn.
He's hot.
I look away, because I am still driving. My eyes glance at the mirror twice, though, before the next car passes around and gets behind me. I focus back on the road. It was good eye candy for the few seconds. I only go for a few more miles before I find a little pull off area and turn around. Maybe I'm hoping to spot Tractor Guy again. No one has to know.
I slump in the seat when I realize he's pulled off the main road and is in the field. Too far away for me to make out any details. I decide to drive down a second road, another two lane that looks like it leads to a dairy farm or something. It definitely smells like I expect a farm to smell. I see the cows and smile. Some are grazing, some laying down. I see a few babies with their mamas. They look adorable. I'm a sucker for baby animals of all kinds.
By the time it hits eight-thirty, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the apartment I rent. It's not the largest I toured before settling down, but it was what I could comfortably afford at the time. It was a mess when I moved away. My dad made it clear if I wasn't working for him after graduation, he wouldn't be funding my life. I'd like to buy a house in the near future. From the time I was ten, we lived in condos and high rises. I have only vague memories of the home we lived in before Dad started his company.
I leave my shoes just inside the front door and toss my keys in the bowl. I have the habit of losing my keys, so I figure the cliche bowl by the door trick should help. I does… on the days I remember to actually drop them there.
I spend the rest of the evening like most of the others. I take a shower, put on my favorite faded sweats and nothing else. I turn on the TV to keep some sort of noise going around the space. It's tuned to some sitcom I've seen before, so I busy myself with straightening up from the night before. It isn't much, just a blanket I had on the couch and an empty bottle of beer I had with dinner.
I grab another beer when I throw the empty one away. It's refreshing and I lean back against the counter and close my eyes. Tractor Guy pops into my mind and I know I'm smiling, repeating that flash of his face over and over, the way his arm stretched out, reaching for something. Reaching for me.
I groan and open my eyes, looking down. There is no way that I'm getting hard over a total stranger's arm. The bulge in my sweats says otherwise. I go back to the living room and distract myself with an episode ofThat's 70's Show. I know they have a remake now, or a sequel, about the nineties, but it makes me feel too old. I'm only thirty, there should not be a show reminiscent of my childhood years already.
