Wednesday (8 page)

“Who says I’m not?” she asks.

“Come on, I think it’s pretty
apparent it’s been awhile. And don’t even think about lying to me, I know you enjoyed
every damn second of that.”

“Sure, but that’s because it wasn’t
planned.”

She doesn’t say another word for
what feels like hours, and begins to pace. Pacing is a good sign, she’s
definitely thinking it over.  

“Well, Aria,” I ask, unable to wait
another second. “What do you think? Forget it all and become mine for one day?”

Suddenly, I want this. I want it
bad.

She leans into me, and in a
surprising move, she brushes her lips over mine. I have to hold myself back,
because I want to devour her.

“Is that a yes?” I ask, but she’s
already walking away.

“I’ll think about it,” she calls
back to me.

“Okay, I’ll take that as a yes,
then,” I say, mustering up every ounce of confidence I can.

I’m so screwed.

***

After the shenanigans with Aria in
the alley – something I still can’t believe we did – I’m in agony. Physically.
Mentally. What the hell am I doing to myself? A hook-up with someone like Lissa
would be so much easier.

It’s like I never left this shitty
town. Back to sleepless nights over a girl who may, or may not, be interested
in me.

Last night, I really could’ve used
the sleep. Especially considering I start teaching a new class today.  What do
they say about those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach? Yeah, that’s
where I’m at in this point in my life.

Funny thing is, I’ve never been the
academic type. Universities are more of a place to tidy your mind, rather than
free it. It involves so much talking about theory and plans and case studies
rather than going out there and actually doing something.

My college career didn’t last long
by any means, and now I’m supposed to be promoting the classroom experience.

“Have fun today, Professor.” Danny
calls to wish me luck, which is so not a guy thing to do. My unconventional
ways must be rubbing off on him.  

“Ugh,” is the only response I have.

“I know you don’t want to admit it,
but teaching is in your blood. Look at what you’ve done with me.”

“It just feels like I’m admitting
defeat or something,” I say.

“I thought this was just
temporary.”

“It is.”

“Then stop whining like a little
bitch and go to work,” he says.

And back to Guy Speak 101.

“Oh, and now that we’re all about
full disclosure and shit,” he says before releasing a long breath.

“Yeah?” I say, not sure I want to
hear it.

Full disclosure was definitely a new
concept.

“Aria will be on campus today,” he
says.

I rub my neck, just the thing I
need to hear when I’m already off to a shitty day.

“She’s taking classes?”

“Going into nursing, apparently.”

“Nursing? She can’t stand the
thought of blood.”

“Well, unlike you, maybe she knows
when it’s time to pull out the big girl panties and do what needs to be done,”
he says.

“Fuck you.”

“Have a nice day, dear.”

And with that, I head to the
university with images of Aria in glasses and a collegiate sweater. So what if students
haven’t dressed like that since the 50s? A guy can dream.

Damn, and I thought I was in
trouble before.

I’m reeling all night
after my – well, let’s call it what it is – spectacular orgasm with Tris. And,
even worse, I’m considering his offer. Part of me craves the excitement, the
naughtiness of it all, but the other part of me is thinking about Jimmy’s
words.

Never reach for a falling knife.

And man, this was one dangerous
proposition.

I want Tristan, but I also fear him
– like an addiction.

Whenever he enters a room,
everything else falls away. Yet we detest each other.

We also crave each other,
desperately. And I’m worried that my need for him will make me risk everything
for a touch, a feeling, a moment of pleasure.

And now I sit here wavering. My
body screams to go to him; my mind tells me it could be the mistake that breaks
me.

“Buddy, you need to eat breakfast,”
I tell Cade, who happens to be in the middle of a tantrum this fine morning as
I’m thinking about mind-blowing orgasms instead of preparing for my first day
of school.

“No,” He turns his little lip out
and pushes the bowl away. “I hate Cheerios.”

What in the H is going on? Cade
hasn’t had a meltdown since he was two. Please don’t pick today to regress. Please,
pal.

I push the bowl toward him again,
strangely reminiscent of the situation with Lissa at the diner.

But when he pushes the bowl back
this time, it goes crashing to the floor. I try to snag it in mid-air, but stub
my toe on the table leg.  Then I slide into the table, soaking my shirt in the milk
puddle that’s now dripping onto the floor. A few drops hang from Cade’s nose
from the splatter. He giggles and draws a happy face in the milk.

So I guess the saying should be
never
reach for a falling knife or falling bowl
. Good to know.

One more smiley face in the spilled
milk and I lose it.

“Cade,” I yell and he freezes. I
don’t think I’ve ever raised my voice around him before. “Look at the mess you’ve
made. I have a big day and you’re making it so hard on me.”  

I throw my own little tantrum then,
slamming drawers and stomping around as I clean the mess. And when I move onto
Cade, his eyes go wide as saucers and his bottom lip trembles.

“Sorry, mama,” he says. “I didn’t
mean to.”

“Why won’t you just eat your
breakfast?” I ask, pleading.

“It hurts my neck,” he says.

“What?”

He rubs his throat and now it’s me
whimpering. I’m yelling at the kid and he probably has strep throat or
something. God, I’m a terrible mother.

I pick him up and we snuggle on the
couch to watch a cartoon together, both still wet from the spilled milk.  

That’s where Serena finds us.

“Why aren’t you two ready to go?”
she asks. “It’s getting late.”

I fill her in on the story while
she cleans up Cade and I try to straighten up.

“He’ll be fine, A,” Serena says.
“If his throat is still bothering him at lunchtime, we’ll head over to the
minute clinic.”

“Maybe I should stay home.” I feel
panic coming on.

“You can’t do that. It’s your first
day.”

“Tell that to my brain,” I say,
packing up the rest of Cade’s bag. “Because all I want to do is take care of my
boy.”

***

Once I leave the house, the day
doesn’t get any better. On campus, an asshole with a lacrosse stick takes my
parking spot.

“I had my blinker on,” I scream out
my window.

“Didn’t see it.” He winks.
Winks!
“Sorry, babe.”

It’s the last close spot near my
first class because everyone drives here. It’s a big commuter school. So I
drive around forever and end up in the Siberia lot by the lacrosse fields of
all places.   

The universe is clearly fucking
with me today.

So I end up ten minutes late for my
first class, wearing my only clean jeans which are old, faded, and full of finger-paints.
Washable paint, my ass. My hair is hanging in clumps by my face, sticky from
the Cheerio milk I was bathed in this morning, and I forgot to brush my teeth.

But worst of all, my heart still
aches from the way I treated Cade. Maybe I should just stick to being a
waitress and forget school. What if I’m one of those people who can’t handle
stress? What if I can’t do it?

I don’t have much time to ponder
those questions because my mind is busy. Too busy for the internal dialogue
that usually rules my day, and that is a welcome change.

After recovering from the
embarrassment of arriving late, I actually enjoy anatomy. While I was pregnant
in Iowa, I was able to fit in one semester of generals before Cade arrived. I
was one of the last students to register there, but managed to pick up two general
science courses. It couldn’t have been more perfect for the nursing program,
because biology and chemistry are prerequisites for some of the courses. I’m
amazed that I finally did something right.

After the class housekeeping is
taken care of, we begin with cells. Okay, I can do this.  Cells are fine; cells
I can handle. Maybe I can slowly work up to the blood and guts.

During class, nobody stares at my
jeans or sticky hair. Most everyone keeps to themselves. Whether they’re listening
to the lecture or staring into space, I can’t quite tell, but it’s a comfort.
And before I expect it, people are filing out. Class dismissed.

There’s an hour break before Intro
to Nursing. Then it’s off to the diner for the lunch rush. In my spare time, I’ll
work on my online psych class.

I’d rather have started off the
summer session at a slower pace, but to get my financial aid, I needed nine
credits. I’m more than a little worried; I’ve never been the best student.

Sitting in the commons, I can’t
help the edginess I feel. The curse of the idle mind. I keep looking for Cade,
like I should be watching him. All morning, I’ve had that sensation that I’m
forgetting something.  

I flinch when my phone rings. Once
I see who it is, I fumble to answer it on the first ring.

“He’s fine,” Serena says instead of
hello. “The quick test came back negative and the nurse was pretty sure the
other one will too.”

“I’m so glad you got him in so
early,” I tell her, feeling like I can breathe again. “Thank you, thank you,
thank you. Can I talk to him?”

“He’s in a very important race with
the twins right now; do you want me to get him?”

“No.” Relief washes over me. “Let
him run. He must be feeling okay then.”

“Totally,” she says. “What about
you? How’s the first day of school?”

“I like it,” I tell her. “I really
do.”

“I’m glad. You can tell me about it
tonight, I just wanted to let you know the kiddo is fine.”

“You made my day,” I tell her
before hanging up.

We get off the phone and I get a
jump start on my anatomy text. For once, I’m ahead of the game and it’s so
satisfying.

These last few days of signing up
for classes, picking up books, and working at the diner have been the longest I’ve
been away from my Cade in his life. It feels strange but also, I hate to admit,
it’s been very freeing. Like my life is becoming more balanced or something. I
forgot what it was like to be anything other than a mother. And the best part?
Coming home to my little boy in the evening. He has so much to tell me about
his day, his adventures with the bang-up brothers and Serena.

And then there’s Wild Wednesdays.
My stomach flips thinking back to last week. Something else I never expected to
be experiencing again. All these parts of me that I thought were gone… turns
out, they were just dormant.

Speaking of, those sleepy parts are
waking up once again.

I actually sense Tristan before I
see him. What the hell? This is like four times in a week. Can’t be a
coincidence.

“Are you following me?” I ask his
shoes, unable to look up at his face.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He bends
down, coming into my line of sight. He has gray sneakers with jeans and a
blazer – a cross between a professor and a hipster. His hair is a mess and his
scruff has me thinking about all the places I’d like to feel it on my skin.

“I’m using the library,” he says.
“And I’m also on some official business. Have you had a chance to think over my
offer?”

“What offer?” Oh yeah, this is how
I’m going to play it. 

He wiggles his brow.

“You weren’t really serious, were
you?”

“Dead fucking serious,” he says,
and my body buzzes.

“Tris.” His name comes out more
gravelly than I intend.

“Don’t look at me like that. This
is purely a proposal out of necessity. I can’t fathom going out with one of the
tennis girls and my choices are limited. I don’t need a clingy woman right
now.”

“Aren’t we full of ourselves?”

“Just being honest. And by the way
you reacted in the alley way, I think you could use this too. Plus, I’ve heard
nursing students need volunteer patients. You could always practice on me.”

 “How did you know I’m in nursing?”
I ask, clearly paranoid.

“I’m not a creeper, Ari. Just
observant.” He gestures to my Intro to Nursing text and I feel a little foolish.
 

“Why are you so adamant about this?”
I ask, surely he could have anyone in this town.

“I want you, Aria.”

Want me?

As if answering my silent question,
he continues, “Yes. I want you spread across my bed, or up against the wall, or
bent over my kitchen table. I’m not picky about where, and we already know
when. So let’s make a deal, Aria.”

Every last bit of air leaves my
body on an exhale. His words hang out there, forcing me to acknowledge them.
Forcing me to make sense of this asinine proposition. And I want to acknowledge
it. I want to answer,
hells yes
.

“Jesus, Tris.” It’s all I can say.

“Don’t overthink it. Sometimes the
body just wants what it wants,” he says, glancing down at his phone.

And then he’s gone.

That afternoon, I’m
walking down the street wondering what Aria’s thinking about my offer. She
doesn’t know about my proclivities in bed yet. If she did, she probably
would’ve run without even considering it.

It’s not that I have a weird kink
or that I’m into dungeon scenes or anything. I just happen to like things to go
down in a certain way.

My way.

I’ve come to discover many women
are keen to my M.O. in the bedroom. More than keen. They just need to be
introduced to it in the right way.