“Unfortunately, no.”
It’s not a lie—I don’t have any weekend plans.
Or any plans, period.
A divorce in my near future squeezes out any time for fun or pleasure, beyond the monthly poker night with the guys. A slight smile tugs the corners of her lips as she takes the length of the stir straw into her mouth and pulls it out slowly.
“What a shame.”
She purrs the words, and I shift, uncomfortable. I set my cup down and fumble with the glass coffee pot while she watches, her breaths like gunshots in my ears, sending me clear signals that she wants something from me. Maybe I should try taking a shot at her. I’m on the verge of divorce and I’ve already gotten myself off to the thought of a student. This almost seems like a step back into more acceptable behaviour, even though dating another teacher also flouts the rules.
Taking a sip of my blazing hot coffee, I don’t even bother to add anything else. I need the pure caffeine as I turn to her. Her eyes study me, clearly expecting me to say something. Lucky for me, I’m quite literally saved by the bell.
“Better get to class,” I say with a relieved smile.
* * *
Right on nine,the students begin to file in, chatting amongst themselves. Chloe is there, sitting in the middle of the front row, right in front of my desk. Her tall stature makes her skirt seem way too short and her shirt is unbuttoned down just enough to show off as much cleavage as she can get away with.
“Okay, books away, please. We’re going to have a pop quiz.”
A collective groan fills the room. Every one of my students hates pop quiz days, something I reserve for when I’m feeling especially hungover—which feels like more often than not lately. After I hand out the quiz sheets, I sit down at my desk to nurse my pounding head. I had been so close to calling in sick today, but I thought the distraction of work would do me good. Help get my mind off Marissa wanting to take my kid away from me.
I might not be Dad of the Year, but I love my daughter more than anything. She’s the one thing I’m most proud of in this miserable existence and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let my bitch of a wife—soon-to-be ex-wife—take her and move halfway around the world.
No doubt the bitch is trying to ensure I never get to see my daughter again. She’d had that sparkle in her eye, that look that warned me this fight might be more than I bargained for. Not that I give a damn; I’m going to fight for my daughter like I have nothing else to live for.
With the kids still grumbling over the quiz, I sit behind my desk with my strong black coffee in hand, silently seething. As I glance from talking student to talking student, I glare daggers into anyone that dares whisper or complain, with my mind still locked on the smug look on Marissa’s face as she told me she would be taking our daughter and leaving.
I’mnot a fit parent. I snort, burning my tongue on a sip of coffee.
And what about her?
She’s teaching our daughter to treat people like they’re garbage, to manipulate, to deceive, to try to bully people into giving her what she wants. I wouldn’t drink so damn much if she wasn’t such a fucking nightmare that I need to calm my nerves with booze just to face her.
And show me the person that doesn’t watch porn. It’s not like I watch it with our daughter right there—I fucking don’t, that’s disgusting—but porn isn’t some dirty issue nowadays. I mean, would a judge take away my kid for something every guy enjoys once in a while? Hell, he probably even watches it.
I know it’s a false equivalency, and sure, I probably watch more porn than the average guy, but it has no bearing on how I care for my daughter and Marissa’s a cunt for even throwing that bullshit at me. And if she wasn’t such a fucking nightmare, maybe I wouldn’t need porn in the first place.
Rage licks through every inch of my being as I rage silently behind my desk. I refuse to look at Chloe, because the last thing I need is to confuse my thoughts even more while trying to teach the class and nursing this monster hangover. That would just be the icing on the cake.
As anger begins to dull and fade, and the quiet sounds of pencils on paper and the occasional cough breaks the stillness of the room, I want to hang my head in my hands.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I can’t lose my daughter.
I can’t.
When the bell rings, signalling the end of class, I clear my throat.
“Chloe, would you mind staying behind a moment?” I ask.
She nods, biting her lower lip, watching as her classmates file out around her. They’re smirking and joking that she's in trouble, like they would with any student I had asked to stay back. I stand and circle my desk, sighing softly when Chloe looks at me.
Thoughts flash through my mind about the way I'd jacked off thinking about her just last night, causing a mix of shame and arousal to flood through me. I should probably distance myself from her, but I can't just leave her alone after seeing evidence of her terrible home life. I would never leave Kelsie freezing and alone in front of a restaurant, no matter how old she was, and I can't shake the feeling that Chloe's home life isn't all sunshine and rainbows. It's my duty to look out for the kids in my care. That shouldn’t stop just because I had some dirty thoughts in a moment of weakness.
“Is there something you wanted, Mr. Reed?”