Sweet Jesus. I give myself time to gather my thoughts by taking three long gulps of wine. I hate that Devin was right about needing it to take the edge off, but I don’t hate it enough to not drink it.
“Legally speaking, I suppose you’re right because you’re not a minor,” I concede. “But there’s definitely a solid argument for immorality. Even you have to admit that, Devin.”
He chews thoughtfully for a minute, and I busy myself with cutting more of my steak, if only to give me something to do other than face reality.
“Despite what your body wants, your conscience is fighting it, and I get it. But I don’t have the same reservations you do.”
“Because there aren’t any repercussions for you.”
“True. But besides being judged by assholes--if anyone ever found out, which they won’t unless we tell them--there aren’t any for you either.”
I bark out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I could lose my job for sleeping with a student, regardless of his age.”
Leveling me with an intense look, he says, “Why do you think I waited until summer, Miriam?”
“You planned for us to...” I can’t finish that sentence, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“From the first time our eyes locked when I walked into the classroom. You stood there with your tight skirt and Fuck Me heels and, for a split second, your gray eyes begged me for every dirty thing I could do to you. That’s all it took for me.
“But I’m not a dick, Miriam. I wouldn’t have done anything during the school year. I flirted a lot, but what guy doesn’t flirt with a hot teacher? I know I wasn’t the only one.”
No, he definitely wasn’t. It’s been a common occurence for me, even during my student teaching days. But I knew it was just teens being teens, and it never fazed me.
Until Devin walked into my classroom and the way he looked at me--like I was standing there naked and ready for him--caused a visceral reaction I’d never had with a student. That was the beginning of my mind’s very long downward spiral into the gutter when it came to Devin Adler.
“So then what? You heard your dad mention my name as his next job and decided this was your chance?”
“Chance? No.” He chuckles. “I wouldn’t have left this up to chance. I’ve had this planned from the day you called my dad’s company. I was the one who answered the phone and set up the consultation.”
My jaw drops. “That was four months ago.”
“Yep. Then I told my dad to lowball the estimate because you helped me ace an economics test.”
I frown. “You never had trouble in class. If anything, the material was easy for you.”
“I know,” he says with a wink. “But I had to make sure you’d choose us if you were getting other quotes.”
“Unbelievable. I didn’t call anyone else because the quote was much lower than I expected.”
“Exactly. After that it was just a matter of dropping subtle hints to my mom about taking a vacation in mid-July for their anniversary, and before you know it, my dad’s guilted into a ten-day trip to Aruba.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. “Holy shit. You totally Trojan Horsed me.” He laughs so hard I throw my cloth napkin at his face, which he of course catches before impact. “Of all the landscaping companies I could’ve called first, I picked yours.”
“That, Ms. Fox, is what they call fate.”
I wave a dismissive hand. “Devin, I’m new in town. I searched for local landscapers and chose the one called ABC because I’m a teacher. They call that a coincidence.”
“Tomato, Tomahto. Either way, I’m no longer your student, which means we’re just two consenting adults.”
He’s right, I know he is. Hearing him say it aloud somewhat eases my mind, but it doesn’t completely eradicate the sense that I’m a bad person for even entertaining the idea of doing more with Devin. I should chalk this afternoon up to a severe lapse in judgment from heat stroke and send him home. Legal or not, eight years is a huge gap in age when I have a masters degree plus three years of a career behind me and he hasn’t even started college.
Speaking of college... “So,” I start, hoping he doesn’t mention the sudden subject change, “what are your plans for the fall? You were accepted into Notre Dame, right? That’s really impressive, Devin. Your parents must be really proud.”
A wry smile curls a corner of his mouth. “Thanks, they are. But if it’s okay with you, I’d rather not talk about my future.”
I stop eating and put my utensils down. I haven’t eaten much, but I’m too all over the place to have much of an appetite anyway. I hate that I’ve offended him, especially after he went to all this trouble for me, regardless of his motives. “Of course, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“It’s not that. You’re having a hard time reconciling what you want with what society says you shouldn’t. So let’s put ourselves in a bubble. The rest of the world, our age difference, the past, the future--it can all stay out there. In here, only the present is allowed. Just you, me, and the way we make each other feel.”
Devin takes my hand in his and draws slow circles above my knuckles with his thumb. They’re just circles, the simplest of shapes and completely innocent. They shouldn’t be this...sensual. He’s only touching my hand, but I swear it feels like he’s tracing lines around each of my nipples, coaxing them into hard, aching peaks.
“A bubble,” I say, struggling to keep my thoughts from misfiring, which I know they are because the bubble sounds like a damn good idea. “Pretending that for a night could work.”
“Not one night. I need more than that to do all the things I’ve fantasized for the past six months.” His thumb moves
