Blue Dream (10 page)

Presley

Theory 3: Love Can Push Your Morals

I throw my backpack in the backseat. “Where are we going?”

“You're gonna have to pay the talking toll before I'll answer.”

Giggling at his flirtation, I shake my head. “Now there's a toll? When did this start?”

“Mm...yesterday.” He tosses a hand in the air, still in the parking lot space of the park he's picked me up from.  “Now pay the toll before I become a troll.”

Not able to resist when he shows me the real him, the him that the school has forgotten exists thanks to the bad boy reputation he's begun to grow, I plant a hand on the side of his face and slip our lips softly together. A moan slides out of him and into me, my thighs parting. With him it's always instant. When it comes to Ryder Collins, reaction is usually followed by satisfaction. Ryder's hand slides under my long skirt, grazing my dampening center right on top of my thong.

His mouth fumbles off of mine as I hungrily moan. “Ry...”

“I need you,” he begs with such desperation, it grows inside of me. To my displeasure he removes his hand. After he slides his seat all the way back he encourages, “Come here.”

With a devious smirk, I crawl into his lap. Once I'm there his hand slides back under my skirt, this time in my panties. His middle finger slides inside of me. My eyes fall shut on a shudder. Carefully he pushes his finger further. I arch towards him, my hips rocking to set a rhythm they enjoy.

In a plea Ryder whispers, “Let me give this to you, Pres.” The heartache lifts my lids. “Let me take you there.”

Nodding my approval, I command my body to follow his guidance. He wraps a hand around my nape and pulls our mouths back together. Slowly as if savoring every single sapidity, he consumes me. He captures my tongue, caressing it with the love and passion that matches his words. Now that his finger is at an established place, my hips rock forward meeting the shallow thrusts, my clit brushing across his palm again and again. The growing explosion builds wildly while Ryder maintains steady. My dangled arms around his neck tense at each tightening of my muscles. I'm not going to last much longer, but I want to. I wanna last a lifetime. I want this feeling to last a lifetime.

When my mouth drops to his this time, I declare, “I'm coming, Ryder. I'm coming...”

His head hits my shoulder as his finger absorbs shock wave after shock wave from my trembling body. Through my harsh breaths and helpless cries, I manage to hear him whisper, “...addicted to you.”

My body collapses on top of him, forcing him back in his seat. Gently he removes his finger from me, sucks my taste off of it, and strokes my back. With closed eyes I confess, “I haven't felt that since we broke up.”

Ryder shifts. “Felt what? Coming?”

Shame flushes my face. “Yeah.”

“Have you and Blaze-”

“He rarely even acknowledges I exist, but we've fooled around a couple times. He's real concerned with two things. Trying to screw me and getting himself off.”

“His loss,” Ryder immediately comments. “I love watching you come. That shit alone is more satisfying than all the sex I've been having.”

The words cause me to stiffen. I knew he was sleeping with her. I would be an idiot to think otherwise, but it doesn't mean I ever wanted to hear it out loud. I didn't want the information confirmed for me. Maybe if I had put out-

“Stop Pres,” he whispers. “We didn't break up because you didn't wanna have sex.” My head props up on his chest. “Unlike Blaze who is very vocal about his determination to bed the virgin, I couldn't give a fuck less. You're incredible outside the sack as much as you are in it. It's not about just fucking with you, baby. It's about the way it makes me feel. It's the way, whether it's you getting me off or me getting you off, I feel like the luckiest fucking person in the world.” His words sink right into my over beating heart. “Now, that I've made a giant pussy out of myself. We should get going.”

Giggling again, I wiggle my hips. “Where we going?”

“A basketball game.”

I frown. “Um, are you crazy? If we go to our school basketball game together-”

“We’re not.” He grins widely. “Now, could you get back into your seat? While I wouldn't mind driving with you in my lap, cops are against it.”

The joke causes me to follow his instruction and roll my eyes. Once I'm buckled, Ryder pulls out of the space and heads out of my neighborhood.

“Okay, so whose game are we going to?”

“East Rivers.”

“All the way out there?” I squeak. “That's like forty five minutes away.”

Ryder smiles, shifting gears. “Exactly.”

Unsure of what to say, my mouth bobs up and down.

“Presley, if I have to drive to the ends of the earth every day just to be with you, I will.” His declaration is followed with a kiss on the back of my hand. “At the end of the day, every day, the only thing I know for a fact is I'm never giving you up. No matter what that means I have to do.”

“Are you day dreaming?” my assistant, Dana, speaks up from my office doorway.

“No.”

“You looked like you were day dreaming,” she hums, her thin bubbly frame, too giddy for its own good. It's perfect for giving tours. Dreadful for dreary moods like the one I've been finding myself in. All the talk about Ryder is not only creating constant chaos in my mind, but causing me to reevaluate where I am in my life. Especially in my love life if you can call the business transaction it's become, love. “Please tell me you were day dreaming.”

“Why do you want me to be day dreaming?”

“Because reveries typically put a smile on people's faces like the one you're sporting now. Smiling releases endorphin.  Endorphins make people feel good. You should always smile.”

“Why are you in my door way?” I sigh. “Is there something wrong in one of the classrooms?”

“No,” she reassures. “You're new family interview is here.”

Interviewing the new parents allows for me to decide whether or not this is a good fit for me as much as it is for them. It's a three step process that starts with one or both of the parents, then the child comes in, hangs in the classroom, supervised with his or her parents, and the third interview has to be with both parents to discuss how we all feel by this point. To some it's taxing. To some it's not enough. For most it's perfect and those are the families I want. I need them to trust me to do my job, even when it's the last thing I feel like doing.

With a false smile I insist, “Send them in.”

Dana nods and ushers someone her direction. A tall man, dressed in a designer suit, rounds the corner into my office. Instantly my heart plunges. This can't be happening to me. There's no way this can happen to me. Not here. Not now. This peripeteia cannot be happening to me.

He extends his hand. “Noah Collins.”

In disbelief he doesn't remember who I am, I stand to my feet. “Presley Morrison.”

Fastidiously he questions, his eyebrows now high in the air. “Did you attend Willow Park High School?”

“I did.”

“You used to date my brother, Ryder.”

I swallow the extensive knot in my throat. “I did.”

He unbuttons his suit jacket as he sits down. Nervously he jokes, “That's not gonna stop us from getting into this place is it? Because my wife would kill him to get us in here.”

The humor causes me to smile. “No. It's not a problem.”

“An asset?”

My lips part slowly. “Not that either.”

He offers me another charming smile. Noah Collins. The prized Collins son. When Ryder and I dated he was living the college life at its finest. He barely made time to come home outside the Sunday dinners he was forced to, twice a month. We never had any issues as far as I knew. Unlike when their father looked at me, Noah never seemed to be bothered by my existence. It was exactly the opposite. I felt like if anyone in their family understood the deep connection we had, it was him. But now that bond is broken and Noah is sitting in the office of the only other dream I ever chased fervidly. 

“Will your wife be joining us?” I politely ask, pulling out new parent paperwork from my office drawer.

“Shelly is at home with Shelby who caught a cold. Nothing major,” he insists like it could get his child banned. “Just a few sniffles.”

Sincerely I say, “Well I hope your daughter feels better soon.”

“Thank you.” He glances at his wrist watch. “I do not mean to sound rude or impersonal, but is this going to take long? I have a lunch meeting with a client and his wife I'm supposed to be attending in about forty five minutes.” Without waiting for me to reply he informs, “I wasn't supposed to be here. Shelly was. But life happens and you deal.”

In a soft mutter I agree looking down at the paperwork, “Ain't that the truth.”

“So.” He clears his throat. “What is it you need from me?”

“Just a few basic questions,” my professional tone comes out strong.

I give my well-rehearsed speech about my principals and the foundations on which my program runs. I proceed with explaining my own hopes and asking what they are looking for in a school. Next, I line out developmental achievements and points they want to hear, and allow for him to ask questions about staffing, which seems to be his only major concern.

Thankfully the discussion wraps up at almost thirty minutes exactly, him with a pleased smile, and me with enough anxiety in my stomach, I could throw up everything I've eaten for the last six days.

Noah stands with his hand extended. “It was a pleasure.”

“Thank you. On your way out please inform Dana to schedule your daughter's classroom tour for next week. If she is well and has been fever free for forty eight hours prior to the date, she may show up. If not, then you can just call us and reschedule. We do our best to be as flexible as we can.”

“And that is appreciated.” Noah lets my hand go. Just seconds after he starts to walk towards the door, he stops, and turns. Dread drapes over me like a cape of devastation I don't want to wear. “You know it's odd...I just visited Ryder a couple days ago and now I'm here in your office.”

I offer him a half smile, my mind now envisioning eating all of the emergency mints I have stashed in my desk.

“I liked you two together.” His statement only increases the urge. One hand slides in his pocket and he softly hums, “You were perfect for each other.”

A desire to cry mixes with my craving for something to shove in my mouth. Something greasy. Something so full of fat or sugar it'll put the emotions that are rising into a coma.

He opens his mouth to continue, but through divine intervention his phone rings ending the topic. “I have to take this. I'll stop by Dana's to get us on the calendar. See you next week Miss Morrison.”

“Presley is fine,” I inform, which makes him smile wide before taking the call.

Once he's out of my office I flop back down into my chair, the back of my head hitting it hard. The air that should be returning to my lungs is being sucked out of the room at such a rapid rate it feels as if a vortex intended to kill me has been created. I have to get out of here. I have to. Right now.

Abruptly, I grab my purse, my keys, and my jacket from their hooks. After locking up my office door, I turn to head for Dana who is sitting at her front office desk.

Before I even have a chance to say something she gasps, “Oh my gosh you're sick aren't you?” My eyebrows furrow. “You're sweaty. You're shaking and you're frowning. All classic flu signs.”