See Me After Class(58)

Greer is sleeping in my house.

Downstairs, in the guest room, she’s sleeping.

Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about a guest, but something has shifted in me and I can’t seem to turn it off.

Awareness of whenever she’s around.

This need to . . . hell, to make her smile even though it goes against my basic principles.

An overwhelming sense to talk to her.

Today was my undoing. I don’t know what possessed me to acquiesce, sure as hell wasn’t peer pressure, because I got my fair share of looks from other English teachers when they knew I wasn’t going to dress up. But when I noticed how sad she was, how reserved . . . hell, it snapped something inside of me this morning, and before I knew it, I was putting on my tux and slicking back my hair.

I blame it on the soft spot I have for my sister. Unbeknownst to Greer, when she took my sister in, befriending her without a blink of an eye and bringing her into her girl group, it fucked with my ability to detach. It’s weakening me. Softening me. It’s making me do stupid shit like think about Greer in a whole other light. One that paints her even more brilliantly beautiful, with a heart of gold and a caring soul.

She’s torn down one of my well-constructed walls, and I can feel my will slowly slipping away.

It’s why I find myself gravitating toward her. Needing to touch her. Smell her. Please her.

It’s why I dressed up. Why I have this sense, this urge to make her happy.

And I’d never say this to her . . .ever . . .

But it was . . . fun, bringing life to Jay Gatsby. It was great timing with my lesson plans, another reason I was okay with my decision.

I wasn’t expecting much when I ran into her this morning. I was more or less expecting her to rub it in my face, give me a little told-you-so attitude.

That’s not what I got.

Instead, there was gratefulness in her eyes.

Appreciation.

Pure joy.

I made her smile. Made her happy, brought her spirit back.

Dragging my hand over my face, I sit up and swing my feet to the side, setting them on the rug beneath my bed. I need a drink, something to ease my mind, help me relax.

The lights are out, the house is quiet and still, so I quietly make my way down to the kitchen in just my boxer briefs. The guest room is on the other side of the house so I’m not worried about waking up Greer.

I turn the corner going into the kitchen and head to the cabinet where I keep the alcohol but then think better of it. Drinking at one in the morning isn’t something I do, and it’s not something I’m going to start.

Instead, I grab a glass from the cabinet, open my fridge, and pour myself some apple juice. A far cry from a glass of whiskey, but it will have to do for now. Leaning against the counter, I bring the glass to my lips just as a movement from the corner of my eye gives me pause.

“Jesus, I didn’t see you there,” Greer says, holding her hand to her chest.

Wearing nothing but a tank top and what I can only imagine is a thong from how thin the fabric is, Greer steps into the kitchen with wild, wavy hair and a sleepy look in her eyes.

“What are you doing up?” she asks.

“Thirsty,” I answer, not wanting to tell her the truth.

She walks up to me and that’s when I get a better view of her practically bare tits in a thin, threadbare tank top. Damn.

“What are you drinking?” she asks, completely oblivious to the way my eyes are eating her up.

“Apple juice.”

She chuckles. “You don’t seem like an apple juice kind of guy. Where are the cups?”

“Cabinet next to the stovetop,” I say.

She moves past me and my eyes stay fixed on her, and when she passes me, I’m granted a fucking gorgeous view.

High, tight, and round, her ass is exposed to the chilly night air, only a thin string of black falling between her cheeks. I spend too much time taking in her backside, and when she turns around, she catches me, realization dawning on her.

“Oh God, I’m not wearing pants.”

“Nope,” I answer, bringing my glass to my lips.

“You just saw my ass.”

“Correct.”

“You were just staring at my ass.”

“You can keep saying it in different ways but it’s not going to change the fact that, yes, I saw your bare ass.”

“Well, this is embarrassing.”

“Only if you make it.” With one hand, I grip the counter behind me, keeping myself from reaching out and pulling her in close so I can smooth my hand over her perfect rear end.

“Right.” She smiles and goes to the fridge, where she opens the door and pulls out the apple juice, my eyes attached to her backside the entire time. Firm hamstrings lead to her glutes, giving her a very athletic look, a look I can appreciate.

When she’s done retrieving her drink, she joins me at the island and takes a sip before asking, “Do you drink apple juice often in the middle of the night?”

“First time,” I answer.

“Well, I’m glad I could be a part of such an historic occasion.”

I tip my drink back then take the empty glass to the dishwasher. Turning toward her, I say, “Do you need anything else?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m good. The guest bed is really comfortable.”