Pieces of Perfect (4 page)

Seven

Thankfully, the rest of the day had been smooth.  I guess I had made enough of an ass of myself for one day.  My students were engrossed in
The Outsiders
and completed their reading assignments without complaint.  Or at least, without much complaint.  As I sat at my desk, scanning the empty desks, I smiled.  I recalled the heated discussion in third period over whether or not the Socs and Greasers were really all that different.  Fourth period willingly delved into the significance of having a gentle, forthright character like Johnny present in the book.  Sixth period uncovered the crux of the novel—that gentleness and violence often existed side by side, and that perhaps, without one, the other would also cease to be.  

Highlights like those reminded me why I chose this profession instead of entering law school after graduating with an English degree from Penn.
 Law school had been all my parents could talk about since I was able to walk.  My father was a defense attorney and my mother had been a prosecutor until she got pregnant with me and my dad convinced her that motherhood would allow her to have a far greater influence on the world than working for the Chicago D.A.'s
office.  You’d think an assistant district attorney would have been able to see right through that line of bullshit.  

I had never disappointed my parents until the day I told them that, not only would I not be returning to Illinois, but I was also accepting a teaching position at a public (for shame!) middle school
25 minutes outside of Philadelphia.  They hadn’t known that I had taken on a minor in education my sophomore year.  I had done it simply to keep my options open, but as graduation approached, I knew that all I could really envision myself doing was teaching a subject I adored to the precocious young minds of our future generations.  That last bit ended up being a hot pile of dog shit, but I still do adore the subject and I still get lost in the hope that I may make a true impact on a child’s life.

Okay, time to end my trance of bliss and get the hell out of here.
 I still had thirty minutes before I could actually leave, but I would damn sure be ready when the clock hit 3:15. Just as I was closing out all of the open programs on my computer, I heard our PA system click on and our principal’s voice bellow, “Attention staff: there will be a mandatory meeting in the auditorium immediately following this announcement.  See you there.”

Jesus Christ!
 I had already done my job for the day. Couldn’t they just leave us alone?  I was shaking my head at the injustice of it all when my friend Tina walked in.  “This had better be good,” she declared.  “I was in the middle of a very important game of solitaire.”

We walked to the auditorium, loudly voicing our dissatisfaction with the administration.
 Slave drivers are what they were!  They had no respect for our after school time, time we needed to make sure our lessons were in order.  Sure, some teachers may be using this time to sit around, shoot the shit, and play on their cell phones.  But no need for subtle hair splitting.

Tina and I walked in and took seats in the middle of the auditorium.
 We had learned the hard way that sitting in the back would only get you asked to move forward and that only ass kissers sat in the front.  I kept my eyes cast down, examining my cuticles, refusing to give the principal my focus, and therefore making it clear what my priorities were.  Surely he would notice how I refused to look at him.  I mean, there were only 75 of us, after all.

Tina interrupted my examination of my nail beds. “Holy shit, look at that hot piece of ass.”

“Who?” I asked as my head shot up.  I strained to see over the heads of the people in front of me.  
Duck, damn you. I have a hot guy to ogle.  

I lifted myself slightly out of my seat as my eyes scanned everyone at the front of the auditorium before they came to a screeching halt.
 HO-LY FUCK!  I immediately slammed myself back into my seat.  This couldn’t be happening again.  This couldn’t happen twice in a lifetime, let alone in one day.  I lifted my head slightly to get another look.  It couldn’t be him, could it?  

It sure as shit could be.

I would have recognized him anywhere, for obvious reasons. What was he doing here?  I never thought I'd see him again, especially not at my work.  My mind was reeling so fast, it was making me dizzy. I was utterly shocked, and not in a good way.

As I looked up again, my gaze met his.
 The fucker saw me.  Why had I been so overly zealous to see who Tina was talking about?  By practically standing up to get a better view, I had drawn attention to myself.  His eyes were boring into mine and his mouth turned up into a smile
.  Cocky son of a bitch.

Tina eyed me nervously as Principal Murdock began speaking.
 How could he speak so calmly at a time like this?  I wished I was sitting closer to a fire alarm.  Where was my cell phone?  I could call in a bomb threat.  Why was he still staring at me?  Principal Murdock was saying something about some guy named Max Samson . .  hockey . . . volunteering his time to our school.  Then my brain started working.  

My fuck buddy from the plane was a hockey player?
 A professional one?  Holy shit, go me!  The words the principal was saying started to morph from fragments of information to a coherent lump I could process.  Max was going to be the new ice hockey coach.  Wait, we have an ice hockey team?

“Mr. Samson will be donating all of the funds necessary to start up a youth hockey club and will take on the role as head coach.
 Please join me in welcoming Max to our team.”  Our principal began to clap, prompting all of us to join in.  But he didn’t realize that he was a day late and a dollar short.  I had done enough welcoming for the entire staff two weeks ago.  

“Mr. Samson, any words for the faculty?” Please, Mr. Murdock, don’t ask him to speak!
 God only knows what is going to come out of that perfectly vulgar
mouth of his.  Max hadn’t dropped my gaze since he picked it up.  And, for some reason I couldn’t even begin to explain, I couldn’t look away.   I sat motionless as he began to speak.  As soon as the first gruff syllable escaped his lips, I was catapulted back to our flight from Aspen to Philly.  I instantly became wet and my nipples hardened. Damn you, body.  Judas!

“Thank you, everyone. I’m excited to get to know all of you better and get this hockey program off the ground.”
 Maybe it was just me, but he seemed to overly enunciate “excited,” so that I immediately pictured his penis.  And “off the ground” conjured up a host of images: the literal flying in the plane, his helping me up after I decided to dump the contents of my suitcase all over the airport floor, and, oh yeah, his hoisting me off of the ground so that I could wrap my legs around that gorgeous ass as he savagely and euphorically thrust into me.  

I was so lost in my thoughts and in Max’s eyes, that I didn’t realize people were filing out of the auditorium
.  The meeting was over?  When did that happen?  

“Hey, you okay?” Tina questioned.
 

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said as I shook my head, finally dropping Max’s gaze and pushing myself out of the chair.
 Tina eyed me curiously, opened her mouth and then quickly shut it, as if she wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

I turned to head up the aisle toward the exit as I heard "Miss Hamilton"
being called from behind me.  I had never experienced Déjà vu before. It sucked.
 
The voice was coming from Principal Murdock. He motioned for me to come toward them.  I inhaled loudly as I trudged toward the front of the auditorium.  My eyes again found Max, but this time, I didn’t hold his gaze.  I was already turning beet red; if I continued
looking at him, I would burst into flames.  My day had been going so well.  I had resolved that pesky zoo issue, my kids had actually learned something, and now it was all shot to shit.

I smiled expectantly at Mr. Murdock when I reached them, not trusting myself to actually form words.

“Oh, yes, Miss Lily Hamilton, I’d like you to meet Max Samson.”  Max reached out his hand to me.  The bastard kept his lips closed, but his eyes were cackling hysterically.  I shook his hand limply. “How do you do, Mr. Samson,” I managed dryly.

“Nice to meet you, Lily
,” he replied, with a discreet wink. “And please, call me Max.”

What a sly prick.
 His thumb briefly massaged mine before he released my hand.  I had to resist the urge to yank it back like he had burned me.  But his seemed dramatic, especially since he had touched far more intimate parts of my anatomy than my hand.  

“Lily, I was hoping you would show Mr. Samson around tomorrow morning.
 He wanted to come in at nine and re-familiarize himself with the building, and when I looked through teacher schedules, I noticed that you were one of the few who had a prep period at that time.  I’d show him around myself, but I’ll be out of the building for a conference.”

Of course you will be
, I thought.  
Because why would the universe want me to miss out on this thoroughly mortifying and awkward experience?  

“Sure,” I replied with a chipperness I didn’t feel.
 “I’ll meet you at the front of the building at nine.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked. “I could meet you in your classroom.”

Oh no you don’t, buddy.  I know your game, and I am not playing it.  Again that is.   

“No, it’s no problem.
 I’ll meet you in front.  See you tomorrow.   It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” The last sentence had slipped out before I could catch it.  This had been far from pleasurable for me.  

I balled my hands into fists at my side as I tried to regain my composure for the long, lonely walk up the aisle.
 About midway through my journey, I heard his deep tone behind me, “The pleasure’s all mine.”  My mind immediately honed in on the word “pleasure.”  My body quaked, but I didn’t dare a look back until I reached the doors.  With my escape imminent, I couldn’t resist a glance back.  And there he was, speaking to Mr. Murdock, but his eyes still locked on me.  

Tomorrow was really going to blow.

Eight

The night had passed with excruciating slowness. I had drifted through intermittent bouts of restless sleep and terrified alertness. I ran scenarios over and over in my mind of what this day could bring: horror, tragedy, mortification? The only thing I was able to guarantee myself was that it was going to be a long day.

As I walked bleary eyed into school the next morning, I had wound myself so tight that I had nearly convinced myself that quitting was a better option than actually going through with this tour. I plodded down the hall toward my classroom, thinking what a damn inconvenience it was to have to deal with these kids all of the time. I pulled my copy of
The Outsiders
from my red leather messenger bag and threw it onto my desk. Yesterday, I had really enjoyed teaching this novel to my classes, and now I stared at the book like it would give me leprosy. That damn bastard had taken the joy out of everything!

What
really bothered me was that I couldn’t actually pinpoint why I was so annoyed. I mean, so the guy had fucked me mercilessly in an airport? Was that truly something that I should let ruin my day? What the hell was my problem? If I were honest with myself, I guess it all came down to faith.

Not my faith in him; I had none of that. But my faith in myself.  I could accept that I had succumbed to
a one night stand. I was even almost proud of it, in a secretive, I’d-rather-cut-my-tongue-out-than-tell-anyone kind of way. But, I didn’t want to be the type of person who did that sort of thing continually. I guess what it all boiled down to was I didn’t want to feel like a slut.
Pretty Woman
could spin the story any way it wanted, but the truth was that any woman who banged a bunch of dudes and then never saw them again was a whore whether she ended up being whisked away in a limousine in the end or was left slinging dick in an alley.

And I just couldn’t be that girl. I had told myself before that I was better than his cocky, domineering advances, but my actions hadn’t demonstrated that. I could forgive it once, celebrate it even. But never again. This was the kind of behavior that could change a person, and I would never change for anyone, least of all that arrogant asshole Max Samson.
 

I groaned loudly as the bell rang, dismissing the kids from the cafeteria.
Okay, Lily. Game face
.

I smiled as the kids entered the room and I
greeted each by name. I should’ve been an actress. I had been putting on an Oscar worthy performance for sure.
The goal of today’s lesson was to analyze the characters and have the students begin to realize that authors had a purpose for every character they introduced. It was the reader’s job, and privilege, to discern that purpose.

As the period progressed, the students became more astute at evaluating the role a particular character played in the progression of the plot and the deepening of the conflict. So far, we had discussed Pony Boy, Johnny, and Dallas. Since we were seriously lacking the female perspective, I decided to move on to Cherry Valance.
 

Just as I said her name, I heard a knock on the door. I glanced over at the door and my face fell. I quickly looked up at the clock: 8:50. The bastard was ten minutes early. I had specifically told him that I would meet him out front. Why did he have to be such a pain in the ass?

I wanted to yell at my student Ben, who sat nearest the door, “Stranger Danger! Get away from the door! Lockdown, lockdown, lockdown!” But I was too late. As I heard the handle turn, I knew I had lost another battle to Max Samson. Maybe there was still hope for the war.
 

Max whispered a “Thanks” to Ben and quietly shut the door behind him. He nodded his head to me and then made his way to my desk, sinking into my chair. Did he have to invade every aspect of me? Now, even my chair had been contaminated by his despicable sexiness. I looked back to my room full of students, trying like hell to ignore Max’s intrusion. But as I looked at their faces, I knew that was not going to be a possibility. The boys definitely recognized Max, and they stared at him with adoration in their eyes. The girls, clearly noticing his snug fitting gray t-shirt and faded jeans slung low on his waist, sat mouths agape at this beautiful specimen of masculinity. If they only knew what a dick he was.

I clapped my hands to recapture their focus. They irritatedly turned back toward me as I asked them, “Ok
ay, where were we?”

“We were talking about Cherry Valance,” Alicia said. What a brown-noser.

“That’s right, Cherry Valance. What is her role in the story?” As Alicia
prattled on about Cherry, I purposefully resisted looking over at Max. Sadly, though, my periphery couldn’t look away. He was reclined in my chair, staring at me intently. He made no sounds, no movements. He seemed to be observing me. My demeanor. The way I interacted with my students. Everything.

As the end of the period approached, I wanted my students to leave with a question to ponder tonight so that we could pick up our discussion quickly tomorrow.
 

“So, here’s what we’ve learned about Cherry: she absolutely detests violence, she agrees to be the mediator between the Socs and Greasers at the rumble to ensure that everything remains fair, she loathes bad behavior, and she will not put up with excessive drinking. Everyone agree?” Eighteen heads nodded assent. “Then, why is she so attracted to Bob and Dallas? On the surface, they are everything she should despise, but she seems almost inexplicably drawn to them. Tomorrow, I want everyone to come in here with a reason for why that may be. You should be ready to explain and substantiate. Got it?” Just then, the bell rang and I yelled
, “See you tomorrow” over the cacophony of screeching chairs and noisy conversations. As I watched them leave, I thought I noticed movement at my desk, but by the time I looked that direction, Max was still.

I started for my desk. The quicker we got this shit-show started, the quicker we could end it. As I approached, Max stood and lifted the sole picture I had on my desk up for closer inspection.

“Don’t teachers normally have tons of pictures on their desks?” he questioned.

“I don’t think it’s a prerequisite for employment,” I retorted dryly.
 

His brow furrowed as he stared at me curiously, like he was trying to work something out in his head. Desperate to fill the silence, I explained further.

“She was my dog when I was younger. Charlotte was the best friend I ever had.” Why had I said that last part? Why? I was clearly possessed by a complete fucking moron.
 

After a moment’s silence, during which I could almost see the wheels in his brain turning, he asked incredulously, “You named your dog Charlotte?
 

Oh, fuck you, dude.
 

“Yeah,” I countered defensively. “I was a big
Charlotte’s Web
fan. What does it matter?”

He shrugged as he carefully put the picture back where he had found it, touching it gently, as if he had touched on something he was uncomfortable handling.
 

I wanted him out of my space. Now!
 I turned and headed for the door. When I reached it, I looked over my shoulder at him. “Ready?” I asked impatiently. I didn’t wait for a reply, but walked through the doorway, and started down the hall without waiting for him to follow.

“Sure am,” he said as he sauntered out of my classroom, pushing the door closed behind him, and positioning himself directly behind me, leaning in so close I could smell his fresh mint scent. “Lily.” He almost growled my name, making me cringe at the images it conjured: his fingers exploring my wet opening, his perfect cock plunging into me, our breaths rapid and needy.
 

Lily, get it together.

I shook my head slightly, as if to clear it. It was a nearly imperceptible movement, but I immediately regretted it.
 

“Neck spasm?” he inquired, with
just a hint of amusement tinging his voice.

“No,” I replied so harshly, it only served to confirm what he already suspected. He was in my head, burrowing in for the long haul. Why was he always watching me so closely? It unnerved me. My anxiety mounted and I scrambled to change the subject.

“Guess we may as well start in the gym,” I muttered.
 

“Great idea,” he chimed.

Prick.
 

*
              *              *
 

Looking at the outside of the school building, the gym was located to the far right. So, it made logical sense that we would start there, and work our way to the other end. We walked down the hallway in silence, mine awkward, his scheming, until I finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Principal Murdock
mentioned that you wanted to ‘re-familiarize’ yourself with the school. Have you been here before?”

“I went here.”

OOOkay. That’s it?
I wasn’t going to force conversation if he wasn’t going to participate. We walked into the gym and I gestured with my arm indifferently.

“This is the basketball court,” I said flippantly
and turned to move on, but he hesitated. He stretched his arms above his head, causing his shirt to ride up and reveal his lower abdominals. It was like a “Flying V” aimed directly at his dick. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going commando again when I didn’t see the top of his boxers peeking out from above the waist of his jeans.
 

“I always like playing a little one-on-one. It helps clear my head.”
 

I glanced back at him abruptly. Had he said that to be purposefully suggestive, or was it just me? Could he have gotten me so worked up that I was now the one with my mind in the gutter?
 

I started walking again and he followed closely behind me. I became acutely aware of his imposing presence as we moved. We crossed the court and went to a room that was off to the left.
 

“This is our wrestling room.”
Blah, blah, blah. Who cares about this shit?
The entire floor was covered with blue
mats.
 

“Hmm, those mats look inviting. I’ll have to remember this room when I need a nap.”
 

“They’re not beds,” I replied sardonically.

This comment should have grossed me out. Sweaty boys rolled around on these mats daily. However, the mental image it conjured, him sprawled naked on a king sized bed, was
totally alluring. A tingle began to pulse between my legs, reminding me of how physically attractive I found this man.
 

“Who needs a bed?” he asked slyly.

I cleared my throat, and gained my composure to resume the tour. As we made our way around the inner perimeter of the wrestling room, I headed toward the door to the far right that housed our weight room.

I walked in and spun around to look at him. “And this is where our prepubescent athletes act like they’re The Rock.”
 

He smiled, but he did not follow me into the room. Instead, he stood in the doorway, placing his large hands on either side of the door frame, and leaned in. The action made his biceps flex, and I nearly drooled at the sight of him. Then, a curious thought came to me.
Why the hell was he wearing a T-shirt? It was friggin’ January! My observations of his clothing made me hyper-aware of my own. I was wearing a close-fitting purple sweater and black Editor pants from Express. I tried to purposefully buy clothes that weren’t in any way revealing, but that was kind of difficult, considering I was only 120 pounds with D cup breasts. I couldn’t hide those puppies if I tried, but I attempted to ensure that they were always tastefully concealed.

Just as my mind began to envision what my breasts would look like in those giant hands, I decided that it was time to move on. We walked back the way we had come, and turned right as we exited the gym, descending a tiny flight of stairs. I pushed open a heavy set of doors that led into the pool and held open the door as he sauntered
in and took a deep breath, trying to draw added attention to the next thing out of his mouth:
 

“I love indoor pools. It always feels so damp and warm inside. Feels great on my muscles.”
 

Yup, the asshole was saying this shit on purpose.

I rolled my eyes. “Can we move on,” I asked, exasperated. I meant move on with the tour, but I also wanted to move on from this sexual tension that had been steadily building since my classroom. And the only way I knew to do that was to stay away from Max.