Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers Book 1) (13 page)

“Why? I’m not into those types, why would I want that for you?”

I shrugged. “Culture, stability—”

“Ennui…,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Trust me – you want a man that lights a fire in you. Your father did that for me. Now, our relationship didn’t work because he couldn’t keep his penis just between us, but one thing I can’t say is that I have any regrets about the time he was mine. I know you, my dear. And I’ve not gotten to see it first hand, but based on what I
have
seen, I know Mr. Wright stokes your little heart flames.”

I didn’t bother denying it. I just looked away.

“To address your other concerns, there’s no blood relation dear, first of all. And,” she said, stepping over to where I was still kneeling on the bed. She raised a hand to my face, lifting my chin to look me in the eyes. “Of course I remember that you haven’t always made the best choices in partners. But I certainly wish
you
would forget. It was the past, Reesie. You made a mistake, and you did what you were supposed to do when you realized it. Nothing that happened after that is your fault. Do
you
remember that?”

I pulled my lip between my teeth, and nodded. “Yes, mama.”

“Good.” She smiled. “I know I’ve spent enough time over the last six years trying to get it through your big head.”

“My head isn’t big!”

She twisted her mouth. “I pushed you out, child. My vagina would beg to differ.”

“Mama
ewwww
!” I squealed, laughing as she pulled me into a hug.

“I love you Reesie.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay,” she said, swatting my butt. “Now get on, get out of here. I was serious about you not being here when Joseph arrives. Who knows if we’ll actually make it out of the house?”

“
Mama!
”

- & -

This is crazy.

I thought those words at least a billion times between going back to my house, logging on to my BSU dashboard, and hunting down the contact information all of my mother’s students had given her at the beginning of the semester.

Were the ethics a little questionable? Perhaps.

But if we were thinking it through, I’d already slept with one of my mother’s students, and she was dating his father. Me looking up his cell number had to be lower on the list of violations than
any
of that.

Once I had it in front of me, I punched it into my phone, and then promptly deposited my phone on the coffee table in front of me.

This is crazy.

There was no way I was about to call this man, unannounced, using a phone number he hadn’t given to me. At least that’s what I told myself, all the way up until the point that the phone was against my ear, and I was listening to the tone as it rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Okay, so he wasn’t answering.

Should I let it go to voicemail?

Should I leave a message?

Should I hang up now?

Yeah, you should hang up now.

Now!

“Hello?”

I dropped the phone to my lap in surprise, and then hurriedly snatched it back up, pressing it to my ear. “Hello?” I asked, hoping he hadn’t hung before I could right my awkwardness.

“Hello…?”

Dear God, what kind of sorcery was it that he could possibly sound
better
over the phone? Or… shit, what if it wasn’t him?

“Um, I was calling to speak to Jason.”

Silence, and then a quiet chuckle. “Reese, it’s me. This is Jay.”

“Oh! Okay. How did you know it was me?”

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Nobody’s voice has quite the same mean-sexy-bougie blend as yours. It’s distinctive.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile even though I was alone. “Ha ha. Funny.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny, I was being honest. How’d you get this number?” –
Oh, shit! I didn’t even think about how I was going to explain that –
“I’m going to assume an abuse of power, but I’ll let it slide this time if you answer a question for me,” he said. His voice was suddenly muffled, like he was moving around, and balancing the phone against his ear. “Settle a debate between me and this girl – you’re cooking spaghetti, right? Break the noodles or leave them whole?”

Girl?

What girl?

Who the fuck was he cooking with at nine o’clock on a Friday night?

I mumbled something about how “
everybody knows you’re supposed to break them in half, stupid
,” and then something unintelligible about having to go. I ended the call, and sat there wondering what kind of non-cooking ass girl he had at his place that didn’t know you were supposed to snap the goddamn noodles before you put them in the damn pot, even if the box didn’t say that.

Ugh!

I completely understood how irrational it was to be fuming about this, for several reasons: I didn’t know who he had over. It wasn’t my business anyway. I didn’t know why she was over there. It wasn’t my business anyway. It had been a month since we slept together. It wasn’t my business anyway. Even if it had been
a day
since we slept together, we didn’t have any type of commitment. He didn’t owe me anything.
And it wasn’t my business anyway.

But I
wanted
it to be my business.

I fell over onto my side, burying my face in the soft pillows that decorated the couch. My problem of wanting to talk to, wanting to
see
Jason wouldn’t actually be a problem if I’d worked up the courage to just do it before now. I’d started to, the day we were together in the office, ask him if he wanted to grab a late lunch after. It was bold for me, and I surprised my damned self when I opened my mouth to actually say the words.

It had the power of spontaneity behind it. I wasn’t thinking about anything except how much, in that moment, I was enjoying talking with him. At this point, Jason knew things about me that Gray didn’t even know, had never cared to ask, and it felt good to be in the moment like that with somebody other than Devyn or my mother. Having shallow fun and good sex was one thing – a real connection was something totally different.

And then it was interrupted.

Maybe it had been a one time thing… right? It was crazy to think that we could replicate what I felt in that moment when he said my dream was valuable. Or when he referenced a romance novel to me, or teased me about the sounds I made during sex, or—

Shit.

My phone started ringing, and it was him.

I slid it away from me.

Instead of sitting there and staring at it, I got up and did something –
anything –
else. I took a shower, played in my braids, painted my toenails, rearranged my Tupperware and cleaned out my refrigerator. By the time I stopped forcing myself to not look at my phone, almost two hours had passed.

The little blue LED on top was blinking, taunting me, reminding me that there was a missed call, and I was going to have to address it, at some point.

I picked up the phone like it was hot, and slid my fingers across the screen to unlock it. Turns out there was not only a missed call, but a text message too.

“Hey, I think we got disconnected. You were saying something, but it was muffled, and then the call dropped. Hit me back. – Jason.”

Yes, I’d already saved the number in my phone.

For a few minutes, I sat there, biding my time, not wanting to seem too eager with a quick text back. But then I realized he’d sent it almost two hours ago.

Shit.

I had to respond now.

“Yeah, bad signal or something. I didn’t want anything though. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything with your girl.”

So that was slightly petty, and I knew that when I hit send. What was
more
petty, and unintentionally so, was sending that kind of message at this time of night, when they were probably still together. I wasn’t
that
kind of girl.

“My girl? Are you talking about Brielle? – Jason.”

I frowned.

“Uhh, I guess so? The one who didn’t know how to cook spaghetti?”

“Ha! Well, she’s only six years old, and the box doesn’t say to break the noodles. Don’t judge her too hard. ;) – Jason.”

Oh.

So…

“And she’s my niece. – Jason.”

Whew.

“Yeah, I thought it was probably a little kid.”

“You realize that contradicts your statement just a couple of texts ago? You ain’t gotta lie, princess. – Jason.”

“And you had to want something, or you wouldn’t have called. So, what’s up? – Jason.”

“Nothing really. You still babysitting?”

I flinched when my phone went off, notifying me that instead of just texting back, Jason had decided to call. I took a deep breath, then slid my thumb across the screen, allowing the call to connect.

“You know this is a pet peeve for some people, right? Responding to a text with a phone call? You don’t have any kind of manners.”

Jason chuckled, and I had to clench my thighs in response to the warmth of that sound. “I don’t give a damn about that. I don’t feel like typing.”

“Well, I don’t feel
talking
.”

“But you sound so damned good, with your little late night sexy phone voice.”

“What?” I laughed. “I don’t have a ‘late night sexy phone voice’, fool.”

“The hell you don’t. Over there sounding like Girl Six.”

“Oh
wow
. A phone sex operator, huh? Is that where your paycheck goes, why you were acting funny about paying for dinner the other night?”

“Exactly. Glad you understand,” he chuckled.

“Mmhmm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?”

“If you were still babysitting or not…”

“Nah. I was at my dad’s house when you called earlier, watching her for my brother. I actually just walked in the door about twenty minutes ago myself.”

I sat back on the couch, snuggling deep into the pillows. “And what are you doing now?”

“Talking to you. Duh. Waiting on you to stop playing and go ahead and swing through.”

“Why do
I
have to swing through?” I asked. “Don’t tell me
just
when I was starting to think better of you, you’re gonna prove yourself to be the bum ass dude I thought you were?”

He chuckled. “Damn, I gotta be a
bum
though?”

“Mmhmm.” I rolled over onto my side. “Why should I have to go out in the cold? If you wanna see me, you can come to me.”

“Oh, it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and then he said, “Aiight. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Wait, what?!

“Have you eaten yet? It’s kinda late, you probably already had dinner, huh?”

Oh shit, he’s serious!

I jumped up from my spot on the couch, nearly tripping over the ottoman as I looked around, making sure my house was clean enough for company. “Umm… no, actually.” I really hadn’t, but I was hoping he’d offer to stop and grab something, which would give me a little more time to prepare.

“Cool,” he said, already sounding like he’d gotten up and started moving. “I’ll bring you some of me and Bri’s spaghetti. I mean, it’s the least I can do since you did help.”

“Uh, yeah. That would be cool.”

Silence again. And then, “Just so we’re on the same page… I’m not like, expecting anything from you, once I’m there.”

“I didn’t think you were, but… I appreciate you wanting to be clear.”

“Yeah. Aiight so… thirty minutes?”

I looked around at my already spotless apartment, then my clean, well-moisturized skin and neatly painted toenails from my little binge earlier, when I was trying to avoid my phone.

“Yeah. Thirty minutes.”

eleven.

“I should make your ass wait outside.”

I grinned at Reese as she stood in her doorway, arms crossed, looking comfortable and collegiate in an oversized blue Blakewood State University hoodie. Little by little, she was blowing my initial perception of her out of the way. I would have bet money that knowing I was coming by, she would have gotten dressed up, intending to tease. Instead, she stood in front of me in a hoodie, shorts, and fuzzy socks, no makeup, with her braids loose, hanging around her shoulders and face.

“Why would you want to do that?” I asked, straightening to full height. Reese was maybe 5’6-7” to my 6’4”, and that difference of almost a foot made her have to tilt back a little to look me in the face.

“Because you said
thirty
minutes, and according to my phone, it’s only been twenty-two. What if I wasn’t ready yet?”

“Just barely got off the toilet before I rang the bell, huh?”

She wrinkled her nose, and laughed. “
Eww!
No! Come in, it’s cold.”

She took the large Tupperware container from me as she stepped back to allow me inside. Her home was warm – in temperature and feel – decorated in purples, earthy grays, and eclectic wooden accents. I wasn’t surprised, even a little, that her walls were lined with the work of black artists. I grinned at the glass case of vinyl records, with a vintage player. A few of the covers were on display, all featuring the same group – her father’s.

“Shoes off please,” she said, closing the door behind me. She walked off toward the kitchen without looking back, and I called after her.

“I can’t get any help?”

She stopped walking and turned to me, face twisted. “For
what
? Don’t your fingers work?” She went back to what she was doing, and I tried not to smile as I bent to remove my shoes, and left them by the door.

When I went into the kitchen, she was pushing herself onto her toes to slide the bowl of spaghetti into the microwave over the stove. The little white yoga shorts she was wearing rose up with her, almost giving a peak of what was underneath. The bottom hem reached that sexy little cuff of her ass and stopped, then lowered again as she started the microwave and turned around.

“Hey,” she said, “You didn’t really need help in there did you?”

I chuckled. “Nah.”

She pushed out a little sigh. “Okay. Good. I was hoping you were kidding. I don’t want you to think I
won’t
help, if you need it, but—”

“You’re good,” I said, raising my hand in front of me. “I was just playing around.”

She nodded. “Okay. Cause it didn’t seem like you needed any, so I honestly thought it would be kind of offensive if I offered.
Damn
!” She snapped her fingers. “Missed opportunity. Next time I’ll be on top of it.”

“You really are something else.” I stepped further into the kitchen, moving closer to where she was.

She smiled. “I am, aren’t I? A special breed.”

“More like a special
case
. A
nut
case.”

“Oh whatever,” she said, her eyes dancing with laughter before she turned away, going to her refrigerator. “I made us a little salad, and um… if you’re staying long enough to sober up after, I opened a bottle of wine.”

I chuckled. “Oh, shit! You’re turning this into a whole romantic dinner thing, huh?” Her eyes went wide, lips parted, and then she looked away, dropping her eyes to the salad bowl in her hands. “Nah, don’t get embarrassed now,” I said, laughing as I took the bowl from her, and sat it down on the counter. “I mean, I’m down with it, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

I put my hand to her waist, and she immediately responded, stepping closer and relaxing against me like it was second nature. Her braids grazed my hand as she tipped her head up. “I got nervous, I guess. Started doing too much. If you hadn’t gotten here early, I probably would’ve had that fireplace lit.”

I threw my head back and laughed. “Wow. I can’t imagine you nervous. You seem very,
very
sure of yourself.”

“Well, I guess my secret is out now. I’m not as impossibly perfect as I look.” Those words were barely out of her mouth before she broke into a peal of giggles.

“You couldn’t even say that shit with a straight face, huh?”

Wearing a big smile, she shook her head. “I couldn’t. But yeah, I get nervous just like anybody else when I…”

“When you…?”  She dropped her gaze again, pulling her lip between her teeth. I brought my free hand up to her face, tipping her chin up. “When you what, princess?”

Her eyelids fluttered closed for a second, and then she turned those big browns on me. “When I… like somebody.”

“Oh, so you
like
me
now, wow! I thought you didn’t like “grimy, egotistical, stupid mechanics who can’t stay on the subject of the paper”? What happened to that, huh?” I dropped my hands to her ass, squeezing as I pulled her in closer. “Dick changed your mind, didn’t it?”

“Here you go with that exaggerating again,” she laughed. “I didn’t say all of that!”

“That’s what it sounded like to me.”

“And you’re overestimating the power of your dick.”

“Nah, you’re
underestimating.
I bet you told all your little friends about how a nigga that doesn’t even have both of his feet gave you the best dick of your life. Didn’t you?”

Her eyes went wide, and she laughed yet again, and that visual, paired with the sound set off a foreign sensation in my chest. Even when it was over, her lips remained curved into a little smile, her eyes bright, and happy, and damn, I just couldn’t help myself.

Reese melted against me when I dipped my head, pressing my mouth to hers. I slipped my hands underneath her hoodie, gripping her at the waist in an attempt to pull her closer. She let out a little moan as I eased my tongue along the seam of her lips, beckoning her to open for me, and she did. I took my time exploring her mouth with my tongue, savoring her sweetness. Pulling her lip between my teeth, sucking, biting, soothing, then back to her tongue to taste a little more.

When I finally pulled away, she was breathless. Chest heaving, eyes darkened with desire, and I could damn near feel the heat coming from between her legs. Her lips stayed parted as she looked up at me, her soft pants breaking the silence that punctuated the loud beeping sounds of the microwave going off.

I grinned, then lowered my mouth again, brushing my lips against hers before I drew back, and gave her ass another good squeeze.

“Let’s eat.”

- & -

We ended up lighting the fireplace.

Yeah, yeah, we were corny as hell, but whatever. After we ate, Reese put on one of her dad’s vinyls, and we settled on the floor in front of the fireplace with that bottle of wine she’d opened earlier.

“I can’t stop thinking about that spaghetti,” she sighed, taking a long sip from her oversized glass. I had my back up against her couch, and she was beside me, but turned in my direction, with her legs crossed.

I chuckled a little. “Get some more then, if you want it.”

She shook her head. “I may want it, but I don’t need it. I’ll be mad at myself when I wake up bloated tomorrow. I’m just shocked at how good it was. That Brielle must be some cook.”

“Oh, give the six year old all the credit, huh?”

“Giving the credit where I’m
sure
it’s due,” she laughed. “Which brother is her father?”

“Mr. Bestseller.”

She nodded. “Is that the one who was with you at the bookstore that day?”

“Yeah. Arranging a signing that he’s going to do for an upcoming book.”

“Oh wow!” She took another slow sip from her glass. “I’ve never read his stuff before, is it good? And tell the truth.”

I laughed. “What? Yeah, his stuff is good. I wouldn’t claim his ass if it wasn’t.”

“What does he write? Nonfiction? SciFi?”

I tipped my head to the side. “Uhh… hard to say, actually. He writes in a couple of different genres. Some literary fiction that deals with relationships, a couple of thrillers. One big review called him a cross between Walter Mosley and Eric Jerome Dickey.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wow. Those are some pretty big comparisons.”

“Yeah. He hates that shit, but it comes with the territory I guess. Real talk though, he’s good. I can bring you some.”

She shook her head. “Nah, I’ll purchase. Support his art. But I’m coming to
your
ass for my money back if I don’t like it.”

“Why me?!”

“Cause you made the recommendation. Is there any sex in his books?”

I laughed. “Yeah, in a couple.”

“Write
those
titles down for me. That’s what I wanna read.”

“Are you serious, Reese?”

She giggled, then took another sip from her glass. “Hell yes! It’s getting cold out too? One of my most favorite things is curling up right here, with some wine, and a good book – if there’s good sex in it, even better. So if your brother fucks up my vibe, you’re gonna hear about it.”

“Alright, alright. I can accept that. I’ll get you a list.”

“Thank you.”

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and Reese finished off her glass of wine. She grabbed the bottle, topped off my glass, and then poured the rest for herself. As she sipped from her fresh glass, her eyes raked over me, and then settled on my leg.

“May I?”

I didn’t really know what she was asking, but I nodded anyway, finishing off my glass in one big gulp as she reached for the leg of my sweat pants. Her eyes stayed on my face as she tugged it upward, exposing my prosthetic.

“Is it weird that I think this is really cool?” she asked, cautiously running her fingers over the stylized metal.

I chuckled, watching the wonder on her face as she examined it up close. “Not really… mine is purposely designed to look badass. I had a few friends from my army days who did mechanical engineering once they left the military. They spun that knowledge into the biomedical field. I reached out to them, and let them basically experiment with me. Ended up with this prosthetic, that I actually haven’t had that long, and a more functional one that I use when I go running.”

“Running? So, you’re pretty well acclimated to using it then?”

“Yeah. I’ve been using a prosthetic for about two years. I’ve only had this particular one for about six months though. But back to your question, trust me. I’d rather you think it looks cool than some of the
other
reactions I tend to get.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Which are…?”

“Freaking out. Feeling sorry for me. Treating me like I’m frail.”

“Oh whatever, Jason. You look like the fucking Terminator, nobody is treating you like you’re frail. I don’t believe that.”

I shrugged. “You’d be surprised then. The incident was a little under three years ago. I’ve been through surgery, physical therapy, learning how to use the prosthetic, all of that, and I’ve seen a lot of different reactions throughout that time.”

“You did all of that here?”

“Nah. When they sent me back stateside, I was out in Cali. I actually loved it out there, and the engineering industry is booming. I came back home to be with my family while I do the school thing, but I might accept an internship, and go back when I’m done.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I’d been watching her fingers as the traveled over the lines and grooves of my prosthetic. But something about her inflection over those last words made me look up, and there was marked dejection in her eyes as she turned toward the fire, and swallowed the last bit of wine in her glass.

“Hey… what’s up?” I asked, reaching for her hand, only to have her pull it away.

“Nothing.”

I wrinkled my forehead, and that turned into a full-on frown when she suddenly got up and walked in the kitchen, grabbing the empty wine bottle and glasses as she went.

What the fuck just happened?