Stirred Up (18 page)

“It’s interesting you say that. Hemingway has
fallen in and out of favor over the years for that reason, among
others. What do you all think?” she asked, addressing the room. “Is
it the author who’s being sexist, or the character speaking in the
story? And what if an author is sexist? Should we avoid reading
writers who are sometimes offensive?”

A number of hands went up, and Cheryl let the
class digress for a bit, delighted that they were having such a
sophisticated discussion. Joe, having said all he appeared to know
about sexist writers, kept his mouth shut. He did seem to be paying
attention though.

Eventually Cheryl brought the class back to
the story, and by the time the bell rang they’d covered everything
she’d planned.

Only when the students were filing out did
she allow herself to look directly at the principal. Laurie closed
her notebook and rose from the chair. For a moment Cheryl thought
she was going to leave without saying anything, but she stopped a
few feet away and gave her an appraising look.

“That was very well done, Cheryl. I’m pleased
that everything I’ve been hearing about you is true.”

Before Cheryl could form a reply, the
principal continued.

“Jason tells me you’ll be taking the Praxis
in a week?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s right,” Cheryl croaked
out.

The principal nodded her head, as if
satisfied by this answer. “Good luck then. It’s a bitch but it’s
all we have.”

Cheryl was still standing in the same spot
when Jason moseyed in a minute later.

“Did I just see Holmes leave here?” he
asked.

“The one and only. She observed the entire
period.” She grinned at him, finally relaxed enough to appreciate
how well the class had gone. “If that’s why you drove my crazy ass
around before class, then thank you. God knows what I’d have been
like if you hadn’t intervened.”

“I didn’t know anything about her coming.
How’d it go?”

“I rocked,” she said, a huge grin taking over
her face as she held her hand up for a high five.

He grinned and slapped her raised hand,
clasping it for just a moment before releasing her.

That was all they had a chance to say, since
kids were streaming back into the classroom. Cheryl retreated to
the back of the room, where she watched Jason pace back and forth,
cajoling the class into caring about twentieth-century poetry.

Though there was a week left of classes at
the high school, the Nevada State semester ended that Friday, and
her teaching obligations with it. So on Friday she spent the last
few minutes of each period saying goodbye to the students, and it
was a surprisingly emotional day. She spent extra time with Sara
after class let out.

“Are you gonna be a real teacher now?” Sara
asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Cheryl told her,
making a face.

“You could teach here,” Sara said, a sweet
hopefulness in her voice.

“I would love that, but at the moment there
aren’t any jobs here. There are lots of people here that care about
you though.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sara sighed.

“I’m so proud of you,” Cheryl told her,
giving her a fierce hug.

“Thank you for everything,” the girl said,
sniffling. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

Then Cheryl was crying, and that made them
both laugh.

“I better go to lunch,” Sara said, hoisting
her bag over her shoulder. She turned back at the door. “You really
should get together with Mr. Shaw. If you haven’t already.”

Cheryl could only stare as the girl gave an
innocent little wave and hurried off down the hall.

***

That Sunday Cheryl was staring at the
computer screen, waiting for her score. It was after one and she’d
been at the testing center since seven-thirty that morning, taking
what amounted to five different tests. Her brain was fried, her
eyes dry and nearly cross-eyed as she slumped in the chair,
awaiting her fate.

Her lids drifted shut and almost immediately
she was in a light doze, her brain desperate to shut down. The
short beep of the computer jolted her upright. She stared at the
screen a full ten seconds before the results finally sank in. She’d
passed, and her score put her in the ninety-second percentile.

She’d done it.

She would have whooped with joy, except that
there were half a dozen people still working way. Instead she
signed out of the computer and headed out, light-headed with a
mixture of fatigue and euphoria.

On the way to the car she texted the good
news to just about everyone she knew – Jason, Lisa, Emily, Beth,
friends from the education program, a few of the dancers.
Congratulations started pouring in immediately.

“I knew you’d pass. Celebrate later, eightish
at the Bunkhouse?” Lisa texted. “You bet,” Cheryl texted back.
“Going to sleep now.”

As soon as she got home she turned off her
phone, kicked off her shoes and climbed into bed. She set her alarm
for six-thirty, crawled under the covers and was asleep in seconds.
The next time she was conscious of anything was when the alarm went
off, but even that barely registered. Hitting the snooze button she
managed to sleep until after seven, before remembering she’d agreed
to meet Lisa in less than an hour.

She pulled up at the Bunkhouse fifteen
minutes late, but at least she was rested, showered, and no longer
starving. Hurrying inside, ready to apologize, she was met at the
door by Lisa.

“Please. No way are you paying your own cover
today,” Lisa said, pushing Cheryl’s money out of the way and
handing a five dollar bill to the door guy.

Cheryl held out her hand to get stamped and
followed Lisa inside. They were at the edge of the dance floor when
she stopped, staring at all the people smiling and clapping for
her. Just about everyone she’d texted was there, and a few she
hadn’t.

“What is all this?” she asked, turning to
Lisa.

Lisa shrugged a shoulder. “I sent a text in
reply to yours, and now it’s a party.”

Cheryl gave her a quick, hard hug. “This is
amazing. Thank you.”

Jason broke from the group to give her a hug,
lifting her clear off her feet in the process. Soon everyone was
crowding around her with hugs and kisses. A glass of champagne was
pressed into her hand just as the DJ started playing tunes. She had
just enough time to take a couple of gulps before Emily grabbed her
hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. Nearly everyone
followed, and before she knew it, most of the dance party was made
up of her friends.

She danced every song, all the stress and
anxiety of the past weeks transformed into pure joy.

***

Jason stood on the sidelines watching Cheryl
dance. She deserved a party in her honor, though he was beat from
his baseball game and couldn’t muster the energy to join her. He
didn’t think he could, that is, until some lame guy in a tank top
slid up to her, put his hands on her hips and pulled her into his
crotch.

He and Cutter had been talking about their
favorite hiking and climbing in the area, but he walked away
midsentence with an over the shoulder apology. It took a few
seconds to thread his way through the gyrating bodies, and by the
time he got to Cheryl the lame-ass had somehow managed to get even
closer.

He was wondering if it was going to take some
kind of macho showdown to break them up when Cheryl looked up and
saw him. A huge smile took over her face and she pulled away from
the guy without another look. He looked pissed for a second and
then wandered off.

“You up for this?” she more or less yelled,
standing on tiptoe to get closer to his ear.

She started to teeter and fell into his
chest.

“You’d better believe it,” he grinned,
holding her right where she’d landed.

They stared at each other for several long
seconds, awareness pumping through him. Every time this woman
danced, he got himself into some kind of trouble, but it wasn’t the
kind of trouble he was turning away from tonight. Not with her
looking at him like she was, her body pressed against him.

A sexy Lauren Hill song came on and they
started to move. He wasn’t the world’s greatest dancer, but when he
was with Cheryl everything seemed to work.

Just like it would in bed, if he ever got her
there.

His hands fell to her hips, his fingertips
grazing the line of bare skin where her shirt rode up. He heard her
quick intake of breath, and then she softened and leaned in, her
amazing breasts pressed against him.

They swayed together through the song, and
then the beat picked up and she was laughing, twirling in her
heels, darting a look at him over her shoulder as she literally
danced circles around him.

He didn’t mind. He let her tease and shake
it, enjoying the show, until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Taking
her by surprise he grabbed her hand and spun her around. She was
such a good dancer and so quick on her feet, she caught on
immediately.

“Whoa. Where did that come from?” she asked,
as she came to a breathless stop in front of him. “You’ve got
skills.”

“Nah. Just some swing dancing in my
past.”

“Dude! You’ve been holding out on me,” she
said, punching him in the arm. “That’s incredible. Spin me some
more!”

She was probably a little drunk, but she was
so adorable there was no way he’d refuse her. So he spun her and
then grabbed her other hand and partnered her like he’d been
taught. He was rusty, but the moves came back to him. Within a few
minutes all her friends had made a circle and were clapping and
cheering them on, like a scene in some movie. The DJ got in the
spirit and played Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” and
everyone else came back onto the floor and tried their hand at
swing dancing, and he couldn’t remember when he’d had a better
time.

After another couple of songs he was dying
for some water and a breather. Taking her hand he led Cheryl off
the floor and over to the bar, where he got them both a drink.

“Feeling good?” he asked, smiling at her
damp, radiant face.

“You have no idea. Or maybe you do, since you
had to take the exam, too.”

“I didn’t have as much on my plate as you
did, but I definitely sweated over it. Afterward the guys took me
out for drinks and I sang karaoke. Luckily, I don’t remember any of
it.”

“Swing dancing and karaoke,” she said, her
voice growing huskier. “You have all kinds of hidden facets to
you.”

No doubt about it, she was flirting. But was
it meaningless celebratory flirting, or I-want-you-bad flirting? He
was definitely going to stick around to find out.

“I can give you a lift home if you like,” he
said.

“That would be great, but let’s not go yet.
It’s only–” she grabbed his wrist and peered at his watch – “ten
o’clock. I wouldn’t mind a few more dances.”

“Let’s do it,” he said, more than ready to
have her in his arms again.

***

Cheryl took another gulp of water, relieved
Jason wanted to stay, and hopped off the stool. She’d taken one
step when she felt his big hand press against the small of her
back, leading her toward the floor.

Just that small contact, but she felt it all
the way down to her toes. It was getting harder to remember why she
shouldn’t climb all over him. Sure, she couldn’t ever be seriously
involved with him, but she was beginning to think it was inevitable
that they’d end up in bed together.

The only question was when.

They danced for another half hour before she
decided to call it a night. She probably could have gone a while
longer, but it was a Sunday night and people were already leaving.
Plus Jason had to be up early and she didn’t want to keep him out
so late on her account.

Emily came over to say goodbye.

“Congratulations,” she said, kissing Cheryl
on the cheek. Then lower, with a significant glance at Jason. “Call
me.”

Cutter and several others gave her a hug and
said their goodbyes, though a bunch of people, Lisa included, were
still dancing their butts off.

“You ready to call it a night?” she asked
Jason.

“You bet.”

Together they walked outside.

“What about your car?” Jason asked. “I’d
offer to drive you back here tomorrow morning, but I’m guessing you
won’t want to be up at six-thirty.”

“I’m not worried. I’ll get someone to give me
a lift back here at some point. Now that classes are over, I have
nowhere I have to be.” She held out her arms and spun around,
laughing up at the sky. “I’m not worried about anything right now.
I passed!” She stopped and looked at Jason. “I’m only a little
buzzed, just so you know. Mostly I’m happy.”

“Good. I like seeing you happy,” he said,
grinning at her as they headed over to his bike.

“I brought an extra helmet,” he said, handing
one to her and putting the other on. “I figured you might want a
ride.”

He gunned the engine and she climbed on,
letting her skirt ride up without doing anything about it. Since he
was wearing a helmet she couldn’t tell for sure if he noticed, but
he did seem to turn his head a little to the side before looking
straight ahead.

The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against
her inner thighs, and she had to force herself not to move around
for more of the sensation. Wrapping her arms around his waist she
leaned against him, her eyes closing at how good he felt.

Then they were off, the cool night air
flowing over her, cooling off her heated skin, if not her thoughts.
She wanted to crawl all over him, lick him up, feel his hands on
her like that night in his tent.

Streetlights and starlight bled together as
they flew down the road, and she would have ridden forever with
him, would have gone with him anywhere. But in no time at all he
was pulling into her apartment complex and killing the engine, and
that didn’t seem so bad either.