Stirred Up (12 page)

“No, I…I just…” she looked flustered by the
comment, like she wasn’t used to people complimenting her.

“You have a couple hours until the meeting.
Want to grab a bite to eat?”

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I’ll
be fine.”

“I know you’ll be fine,” he said. “Humor me
anyway.”

“Well, if it’ll make you feel better,” she
said, a smile curving her lips, and without warning his heart
started to beat harder.

Once outside he led her to his
motorcycle.

“Oh, I figured we’d go someplace nearby,” she
said, looking surprised.

“We could, or we could take a nice ride down
the highway and check out a diner that’ll blow your mind.”

She rolled her eyes at this but laughed,
taking the helmet without protest. Already she looked more relaxed,
so he knew he was right to get her away for a bit. He tried not to
think about the way her thighs cradled his hips, or the light
floral smell she carried with her.

He headed south, taking the scenic route in
order to be on the highway as long as possible. Twenty minutes
later he pulled up to an old-fashioned diner and held the door as
Cheryl walked in. Only a few tables were filled since it was that
odd time between lunch and dinner. A woman behind the counter told
them to sit wherever they liked, and Cheryl picked a booth by a
window.

“So this is going to blow my mind, huh?” she
teased, turning the wheel on the little jukebox that sat on their
table.

It had been weeks since she’d teased and
joked with him. It felt even better than he remembered. But then,
that was usually the way with things you thought you’d lost.

“I may have exaggerated a little,” he
acknowledged, grinning at her. “But they do have killer burgers.
I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

“Really? What did you used to listen to?”

“Back then I made fun of the music. My
parents liked it though, especially my mom. The music hasn’t
changed since then, but I’ve come to appreciate the oldies. I
wonder if that means I’m old?”

He spun the wheel, letting the song choices
flip over. “Here’s one. This was one of my dad’s favorites, though
he always reminded us it was before his time, too.”

Inserting a couple quarters he pressed the
buttons and out came Buddy Holly’s “Maybe, Baby.”

“I love this song,” Cheryl said. “I get to
choose the next one.”

“You can choose the rest, my treat,” he
said.

The waitress came over, but they hadn’t even
looked at the menu yet. Eventually they ordered and he exchanged a
few dollar bills for more quarters. Then he sat back and watched
Cheryl exclaim over the music. She picked a wide and varied
selection of tunes, from the fifties on up, always asking him if he
liked each one. He told her yes, no matter what the song. She
seemed to have forgotten all her worries for the time being, and
even sang along, a little off-key, like she couldn’t help
herself.

Then the food came and all talking ceased for
a time, though it didn’t take long for them to clear their plates.
In fact, he would have preferred it if the service had been a
little lax, since he was in no rush to leave.

He looked at his watch and saw they had a
half hour to spare before they had to get going. “Dessert?”

She pulled the plastic menu from behind the
napkin dispenser and turned it to the desserts on the back.

“I could really go for a piece of apple pie,
but only if you’ll split it with me.”

“Deal,” he said, leaning back in his seat and
trying not to grin like a fool at her.

The waitress came back over and took their
order along with their plates. Linda Ronstadt sang “Different
Drummer” from the speaker by his elbow and Cheryl began humming
along while she absently folded and refolded her napkin. The pie
came and soon the only sounds either of them made were of
enjoyment, though it might have been easier if Cheryl enjoyed the
dessert a bit less. He could have done without the torment her
little moans of pleasure set off.

“What do you think about going climbing again
some weekend?” he asked, praying it wasn’t too much, too soon.

She glanced up at him, her surprised look
turning wary, like there was some trick in what he was saying, some
hidden meaning she wasn’t sure of.

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her
dish and moving the spoon around without taking a bite.

“It’ll be fun. You had a good time on the
wall, and if you don’t go again soon you’ll forget everything.”

He watched her expression, wondering what was
going on in her mind, and pretty sure he wouldn’t like knowing. All
the while his heart beat madly in his chest, as if he’d proposed
marriage rather than a few hours at the gym.

He didn’t breathe until she looked up, this
time with a little smile. He still hadn’t earned one of her big,
heart-stopping smiles, but this was a start.

“Sure, why not? That was fun,” she said.
“This Saturday, same time?”

“I’ll come and get you,” he said, looking
down at the table so she couldn’t see how pleased he was.

She was giving him another chance. Maybe
that’s not how she’d meant it, but that’s how he was taking it. A
chance to start over, regain her trust, act like the guy he should
have been all along.

When the check came he grabbed it before
Cheryl could so much as peek at it.

“This is on me,” he said, pulling out his
wallet and enclosing cash in the bill folder.

“At least let me –”

“Forget it. This is my treat. Anyway, we
don’t have time to argue. I need to get you back to school.”

“Fine, have it your way,” she grumbled. She
ate a final spoonful of pie and looked up again. “This was perfect.
Thank you.”

He smiled back, glad she didn’t realize just
how much he was willing to do for her. He took a different route
back to the school, but it was nearly five now, so there was no
time for exploring.

They pulled into the school parking lot with
a couple minutes to spare.

“Thanks again. This was just what I needed,”
she said, dismounting and handing him his helmet.

“How are you getting in?” he asked.

“Mary said to call her and she’d come open
the door.”

“I’ll wait for you,” he said, reluctant to
leave her alone with such an intense situation to deal with.

“Don’t be silly. I have no idea how long the
meeting will go. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s Sara I’m worried
about.”

“All right,” he said, relenting. She was a
grown woman after all. She didn’t need him hanging around all
night. “Call me if you need to talk, though. Okay?”

Once again he’d taken her by surprise. She
stood there in the parking lot, a little frown between her brows,
her head cocked slightly as she assessed him.

“I’ll be fine. But thank you.”

Then she smiled at him. She was still holding
back, but it was genuine and warm, and he headed home high on the
hope it gave him.

***

“Do you have a minute, Cheryl?”

Cheryl stopped mid-stride. She’d been
hurrying out of the building after her last class, starving and
anxious to get started on a paper that was due the next week. But
Larry Walker was Dean of Education, so she wasn’t about to brush
him off.

“Sure,” she said, following him into his
office down the hall.

Her nerves kicked in, even though she’d done
nothing that could possibly get her in trouble.

“I won’t keep you long,” he said, waiting
until she sat before taking a seat behind his desk. “I received a
call from Laurie Holmes, the Henderson High principle, and she had
very good things to say about you.”

“Oh, wow. That’s great,” she said, still
confused.

“She tells me you managed to get a struggling
student to talk to you about a very serious situation she was
dealing with, when she wouldn’t talk to anyone else.”

“You mean Sara,” she said. “I’m glad I could
help, but I didn’t do anything the other teachers wouldn’t have
done.”

“Ms. Holmes believes you made a big
difference, and she went out of her way to let us know about it.
We’ve received glowing reports about your fieldwork from Jason Shaw
as well.”

“That’s great,” she said, too amazed to be
articulate. “I’m learning a lot there.”

“Everything else going well? Classes, exam
preparation?”

“Yes, thank you. I think I’m on track, though
I’m still a bit nervous.”

“That goes with the territory, I’m afraid.
Just keep up the good work and you’ll be fine,” he said, getting to
his feet. “I have no doubt you’ll make a first-rate teacher.”

She could feel her face warm at the
restrained praise, all the more meaningful because he didn’t often
get involved with students.

Thanking him, she left his office and
continued down the hall and out into the parking lot, her heart
light as she replayed his praise. And not only had he taken the
time to speak to her, but the principal of Henderson High had gone
out of her way to tell him her part in helping Sara.

A few minutes ago she’d been desperate to go
home and watch sitcom re-runs, but now she was wide awake and up
for a few more hours of work. Getting into her car she headed for
the Blackwater Café, her new favorite place to study. She worked
there until nearly ten o’clock, consuming more coffee and cookies
than any person her size had a right to.

When she could no longer see straight she
called it a day and packed up. Her heavy bag banging against her
hip and weighing her down, she made her way through the parking lot
that served the stores and restaurants on the street, wishing she
could remember where she’d parked.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Cherry. Fancy
meeting you here.”

Cheryl stopped dead and turned to see a man
coming towards her between a row of cars. Instantly her heart beat
faster and she was about to run, but then he passed under a
streetlight and she realized it was Brad, Jason’s friend.

“Jeez, Brad, you scared me.”

“Sorry about that, sweetie,” he said, moving
closer.

She could smell the booze on him and her
instinct to flee reasserted itself. But she was over-reacting. She
knew him. Then she realized what he’d called her and her blood ran
cold.

“Does Jason know what you are?” he said,
moving closer. “It wasn’t until I went back this past weekend that
I knew for sure it was you.”

“Okay, so now you know,” she said, trying to
move past him.

He shifted to the side and grabbed her upper
arm.

“What’s the hurry?” he asked, moving even
closer.

Disgusted, she retreated from him only to
bump up against a car. He’d basically trapped her. Still, there was
no reason to freak out, was there? She was in a public place.
Someone was bound to come along, especially if she screamed. It
didn’t seem like screaming was required yet, but she wouldn’t
hesitate if need be.

“Get your hands off of me.”

“Oh, please. You’re practically a prostitute,
and you’re gonna act all innocent with me? What’s the matter?
Should I slip you a few bucks first?”

“What the
fuck
?” a man roared behind
him, and Brad was yanked away from her and slammed into the next
car.

She watched in shock as Jason punched Brad in
the gut and then his face, sending him to his knees. Jason stood
over him, his expression livid as Brad moaned, his hands trying to
stem the blood flowing from his nose.

“Are you all right?” he asked Cheryl, looking
over at her even as he kept an eye on Brad.

“I’m fine. He didn’t really do anything.”

“The hell he didn’t.”

His mouth tightened and he turned back to
Brad, who was now on his knees, struggling to get to his feet.

“Get out of here,” Jason snarled, and Brad
stood up, wavering slightly. He looked surprised, as if he had no
idea how any of it had happened.

“Dude, it’s not what you think –” he began.
But one look at Jason’s face and he turned and lurched out of the
parking lot.

It all seemed so surreal, Jason’s take-down
of his friend so absolute, as if he felt no conflict, no remorse.
Instead he turned his back on Brad, face softening as he looked at
her. Then without a word he pulled her close, his strong arms
wrapping around her.

Cheryl closed her eyes, soaking in the
comfort he offered. The last time, the only time, Jason had held
her was when they’d danced together all those weeks ago. Now his
warmth flooded into her, and yes it was comforting, but she
couldn’t help noticing how good he smelled, how big and strong he
was in comparison to her.

He’d punched a man in her defense, and her
body knew it. It didn’t care about her confusion and doubts. It
stirred to life, humming against him. She pulled away before Jason
could feel it, rubbing her arms in an effort to soothe herself.

“Were you on your way in or out?” Jason
asked, his eyes still narrowed, assessing her like she was some car
crash victim and he was on the alert for signs that all was not
well.

But all wasn’t well, so why pretend
otherwise?

“I just got done studying at the cafe, but I
could really use a drink, and also some company,” she said, trying
not to sound too needy. “If you have a few minutes.”

“Of course,” he said, taking her hand and
leading her across the street and into The Watering Hole.

The gesture was so natural, such a mixture of
intimacy and friendship it overwhelmed her, and she felt tears
threaten to break free. This time they took a booth and Cheryl sat
deep inside it, where no one could see her. When the waitress came
over she ordered a whiskey, earning an impressed eyebrow raise from
Jason.

“Make that two,” he said, leaning forward in
his seat and smiling at her. But the smile faded into a frown. “You
look pale,” he said, his concern obvious. “You want to tell me what
happened out there?”