Always You(6)

Oh wait, that’s right: my interfering mother.

“Tuna fish?” Mark screwed his nose up as he glanced over at my sandwich.

“You don’t have to eat it,” I told him, taking a big bite and washing it down with a soda.

“Yeah, but I have to smell it,” he retorted, moving a seat down.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Are you going to Layna’s tonight?” I asked him. Layna—the headmistress—and her husband, Dan, lived in a house behind the main building. Every Friday night, she and Dan hosted a dinner for the staff.

I’d known Layna for years, though we had only met a handful of times at big family events. She and Mom spoke regularly, but living so far away from each other made catching up hard. It was those big events—like Dad’s funeral—where I had actually met her.

Mark nodded. “Probably. Nothing better to do, may as well get a free feed, huh?”

“My thoughts exactly.” I chuckled.

“Glad your first week is over?” he asked.

I groaned. “That would be an understatement. I just found out there’s a betting pool on which one of my students is going to kiss me first.”

Mark laughed, banging his fist down on the table. I glowered at him. Was it really that funny?

“Seriously? Watch out, dude, these girls are brutal. That’s the trouble with rich kids—they’re used to getting whatever they want, no matter the cost.” He glanced down to his beer belly. “Not sure why they’re not trying to hit me up, though.” He grinned.

“No idea, dude.” I laughed. “But I have to admit, I’m glad this is only a short-term contract.”

“You say that now, but give it ten years. A pretty girl paying attention to you then will be the highlight of your week.” He laughed again as I shook my head. There were so many things wrong with what he’d just said that I didn’t even know where to start.

“I don’t know about that, but I do wish girls had paid this much attention to me in college.” I chuckled.

Mark snorted. “I find it hard to believe college girls were doing anything other than throwing themselves at your feet. And think about this: all those pretty college girls you were f*cking last year? They were these girls only a year or two earlier.”

I rolled my eyes as Mark guffawed loudly. He was trying to wind me up, but there was some truth to his comment, and it made my inexperience and close age to these girls even more obvious to me.

Last year I wouldn’t have blinked an eye at the thought of making out with a hot freshman. Hell, my friends and I used to prey on ‘fresh meat’ as they called them.

They would be these girls in a few short months, and guys just like me would be all over them. I stood up, tossing my half-eaten sandwich in the garbage can, suddenly not that hungry.

I sighed, thankful there were only eight weeks of the school year left.

Surely I could handle eight little weeks?





Chapter Four


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Dalton

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The one good thing about living on campus? Two minutes and I was home.

Back in L.A., I’d still lived at home with Mom and spent half the day in the car getting to and from my classes. Here, I could get up fifteen minutes before my first class and still be early.

I made my way over to my unit on foot, crossing the sprawling green lawns that separated the school from the residential units. Trees lined the border of the entire property, most of them hundreds of years old, creating a feeling of privacy. My unit was in a cluster with fifteen others within an old, dated, red brick building.

Inside was a complete contrast. Everything had been remodeled, with modern new furniture, and finishes in grays and neutral tones. The living room was huge—as was the bedroom. The kitchen, though cramped, was complete with all the latest appliances. I even had a small balcony, which overlooked the entrance of the school.

I slapped my keys down on the counter and went straight for the fridge, grabbing a soda and some leftover pizza from the night before. Walking over to the sofa, I flopped down and flicked on the TV. My first week was officially over, and I had survived. Barely.

Eight more weeks.

If I could get through that, I could secure a job anywhere. That was what this was really all about: the security of a permanent job with benefits—such as health insurance—was something I needed. Not negotiable. This job on my resume was as good as a free pass to any teaching position I wanted. It put me one step above the other twenty thousand graduates who would be applying for the same positions I would be.

The dream to be a teacher had been with me for as long as I could remember and it was something that my father had hated when he was alive. I had so much potential, why did I want to waste it on a sub par career? Why didn’t I want to follow in his footsteps and study Law? Why was I such a disappointment? Why wasn’t I trying harder? All that when I was barely in middle school. Talk about pressure. In spite of all that, I knew he loved me and wanted the best for me.

When he found out he was sick, his entire outlook on life changed.

It had been a complete one-eighty turnaround. After his diagnosis, it was all about following my dreams, not settling for anything, and doing what made me happy.

Happy? Happiness was overrated. How could I ever let myself truly be happy knowing how easily everything I worked for could be ruined? Happiness was a trait that had eluded me for a long time. The best I could do was try and float with my head above water and hope I didn’t drown, and some days even that was hard.