Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last

Wilson Mooney

Eighteen at Last

a novel by

Gretchen de la O

Wilson Mooney,
Eighteen at Last

Gretchen de la O

Copyright
©
Gretchen de la O
2012

Published at Smashwords

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of this author.

This book is a work of
fiction. Any references to historical events,

real people, or real
locales are used fictitiously.

Other names, characters,
places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination,
and any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons—living or
dead—is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No
part of this publication may be reproduced, stored on a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the author.

ISBN:
0-9836658-2-6

ISBN-13:
978-0-9836658-2-3

Printed in the
U.S.A.

First Edition, November
2012

Edited by Tiffany Barkman
Grayson

Original Art and cover
designed by Eunice Ortegón

My Shout-outs…

Wilson’s Beta Readers:
Becky, Debbie, Karley, Suzanne:
Thank you
for your time and input. It means the world to me that you care
about the characters within these pages as much as I do. I am
humbled by your support and grateful for your time.

Tiffany:
Thank you for having my back! Your expertise and
handle on the English language is amazing. Thank you for bringing
coherence to my story and humorously reminding me that when it was
really good, I lost my handle on the use of grammar. You are such a
generous person and I hope you’ll have me for all the novels
waiting to come alive.

Eunice:
You have an amazing talent. I am so lucky to have
you. You never cease to amaze and dazzle me with your vision. You
are one of the most loving, cooperative, and giving people I have
ever met. Your talent, love, and goodness truly radiate from your
core. I am honored and very lucky to have you. The cover is
brilliant!

Becky:
Well, Sis, we made it through another book. I don’t know what
I could say here that you don’t already know. Through thick and
thin, through frustration and fun, Wilson and Max live on—not only
in my head, but they skip around in yours too. Without you, I truly
don’t know if this book would exist. Thank you for everything you
give, everything you do, and everything you are. You are my rock,
my memory keeper, and my soul sister!

My Family: Ed, Jared,
Kyle, Nate, and my Mom (Grandma K):
Thank
you for being a supportive husband, loving children, and a caring
mom/grandma. Thank you for the times you had to forgive my lack of
being the domestic goddess when I should have been, and the
preoccupied mother I shouldn’t have been. Thanks for telling me
when you needed to be with me and for the times you let me be.
Beyond it all—Jared, Kyle, and Nate—I hope, if nothing else, that I
taught you nothing is ever beyond your reach when you let your
heart follow its calling. I love you all so very much and am so
blessed to have each and every one of you in my family.

“What the caterpillar calls
the end…

the rest of the world calls
a butterfly.”

Lao Tzu

Dedicated in loving memory to my dear
friend Dorothy

I grabbed a green Expo
marker from my desk and decided to stop worrying about Wilson
walking through my door. I hated having to wait to see her. I kept
visualizing the way her body moved through my room—the curve of her
hips swaying against the open space, her glowing blue eyes speaking
secrets, and her loose blonde curls bouncing against her shoulders
as her aroma clawed seductively through my body. I felt the need to
touch her warm skin swell below my belt.
Shit, not good—Queen of England… dead puppies… Margaret
Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher… Margaret Thatcher.
Fuuuck, come on—not now. Please, not now.

I spun around to the whiteboard,
making sure to keep the tent in my Levi’s out of sight. The last
thing I needed was for any of my students to come in and notice it.
Pressing the marker to the whiteboard, I scribbled out that night’s
assignments. I made sure it was just enough reading to cover the
required sixty minutes of homework, and that the questions were
challenging enough for Wilson to play devil’s advocate with me
later.

That’s what turned me on about her: no
matter what the subject, she always found a way to make me see her
side of it. It was refreshing, to say the least; finally, someone
so beautiful yet still able to debate even the most obviously
lopsided of subjects. Don’t get me wrong, she was wickedly sexy
too, and I could never wait for the part where we challenged each
other because, whether I won or lost, we would always end up making
out. She knew what turned me on, and I knew what made her go crazy.
I loved watching her body react to what I did. How her hips would
roll and thrust, speeding steadily against my fingers; how
irresistible she was when her breath would ripple across my skin;
and how she’d moan and bite her bottom lip before she’d explode. I
liked how uninhibited we were with each other. She discovered how
to rock my world, and quickly became really good at it.

The smell was pungent and
the ink wet as the lines of my letters dried.
Damn it, I picked the wrong pen.
The
odorless ones worked best. I looked down at the end of the tray and
noticed the good markers were stacked there in a line. Wilson must
have put them that way before she’d left for Aspen.
I’m so fucking torn. How can I battle or change
everyone’s expectations? Legally, I know I shouldn’t go out with
her—she’s one of my students. God knows I’ve tried to avoid it.
Hell, I’ve fought these feelings every day I’ve seen her. But when
everything in my gut is telling me it’s right, how can it be
wrong?

When I left early on Friday I was
dreading letting yet another weekend go by where I didn’t have the
balls to make a move on Wilson, stressing about the fact that I
wanted to be with her and knowing that I couldn’t have her. I’d
hoped that going to Aspen would help me keep my mind off the whole
situation.

Who would have known I’d be coming
back Sunday night with a whole new story—one with Wilson wanting me
too? I was a changed man. I still didn’t know how the whole thing
happened. Everything seemed so fast, so perfect. One minute I was
hanging out with my family, the next I was at Cindy Browler’s cabin
with Wilson.

When I found her in that bathroom and
saw how I’d broken her heart, something took over my reasoning. All
I wanted to do was heal her, hold her, make her see how much I
wanted her. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my
ears. It was strange—I was scared and calm all at the same time. I
didn’t want to fuck anything up, and the thought of her crying
because I was too scared to act on my feelings tore me up. I
couldn’t help it—when she pushed me away, something clicked and I
couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to lose her. I had to fight for
something I didn’t even know I could attain. Damn, she was
irresistible; and, man, she tasted so good. It took everything I
had to hold back with her.

She’s so perfect. I still
can’t believe she’s my girlfriend. If I die tomorrow, I have to
admit, I’ll die happy.

But what if it’s too
perfect? Quit doubting fate. For fuck’s sake, I took her home and
my mom loves her; my whole family is crazy about her. Wilson likes
me, that’s all that matters. She wants me as much as I want her,
that’s gotta mean something. She wants to be with me and it’s so
hard to wait.

Sometimes I can’t believe
Wilson’s only seventeen. She seems so much older. She lives beyond
all the bullshit other girls her age seem to be caught up in.
She’ll be eighteen in less than a month. What the hell’s a
month?

Okay, just power through
today without making eye contact, it’ll be fine. Take one step at a
time. Make it through this class and then the rest of the day will
be cake.

The door swung open and
high-pitched voices entered the room.
Shit, there’s Cindy—don’t look at her
. I snatched the eraser and started to rub the whiteboard
Wilson had cleared on Friday.
What in the
hell am I doing?
Don’t look stupid erasing
nothing.

I noticed Wilson still
hadn’t walked through the door. Maybe coming to class today was
just too much for her.
Yeah, she needs
time. I can’t expect her to walk in here and keep it together—hell,
I can’t.
I dropped the dry eraser into the
tray.
What would make this go fast enough
to make it worth me being here? Well, if she decides to show up
today—that would make the whole day totally worth it.

Shit, there’s the
bell,
I thought as I turned around and saw
all the girls chatting with each other. I pushed my fingers up
through my hair, brushing it off my forehead. I didn’t want it in
my eyes. At least I wasn’t sporting a tent in my Levi’s
anymore.

Where is she?

I cleared my throat and completely
avoided making eye contact with Cindy or Joanie.

“
Okay, okay. Time to take
your seats—that was the bell, people,” I attempted in a relaxed
tone.

“
How was your weekend, Mr.
Goldstein?” a voice sang from the back of the room.

Shit, what am I going to
say? Keep it short and to the point.

“
I had a nice
weekend.”
Perfect—a simple enough answer
to keep it vague; gotta avoid saying too much.

I glanced at Cindy. She was leaning
into Jacky, whispering something into her ear. My throat felt like
a desert. Suddenly I couldn’t swallow enough to dampen the cactus
stuck below my larynx.

“
What was so nice about
it?” Victoria Morgan shouted from the back row.

As I looked over the room I could feel
my face heat up and my heart pound. I looked down at my desk,
dragging the tips of my fingers across the grooved, aged surface
before I walked around the corner of it and propped myself squarely
in the middle, facing the front of the classroom.

“
Well, before I tell you
about my weekend, how about you tell me about yours, Miss Morgan?
Hmm?” I changed the focus.

“
Well, mine was boring; I
went with my boyfriend to see
Angels and
Devils,
the stupidest movie ever,”
Victoria spat. Several students agreed in rhythmic whoops and
hollers.

“
Alright, ladies,” I was
working to settle the room when I heard the door scrape across the
worn tile floor. I looked up and caught my
breath—
she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve
ever seen.
My heart hammered in my chest.
The blood in my scalp rushed through my ears and down the back of
my neck. I felt my mouth water with the memory of tasting her. My
hands perspired, and every last drop of blood in my body instantly
collected between my legs.

Wilson had made it to
class, breathing heavily, as if she’d sprinted from across campus.
Her magical, blue eyes darted around the room. I noticed she paused
on Cindy and Jacky before shifting to Joanie. Finally, her eyes
tracked the tile floor and she seduced me slowly with her
expression. She pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her
teeth as she preoccupied herself with making her way to her seat.
Her backpack skimmed her shoulders as she pulled it off and slid it
under her desk. Her white shirt was unbuttoned just enough for me
to see the exposed swell of her breasts, teasing the pounding
pressure in my pants.
I’d better not stand
up.