This Is Our Story
Chapter Ten
After his fainting spell Thursday, it was decided that Angelica would handle the driving for the last day of the semester. Conner tried to take his time getting ready. The less time he had to spend in the hall before first period, the better. Classrooms promised some small measure of safety. During final exams, they would be quiet and under the watchful eyes of teachers at their sternest. The halls were a lawless place, thronging with savages. Conner’s own first period was merely finishing student presentations; he’d given his Wednesday, and was in no rush. Had he been behind the wheel, he would have gladly come in late and simply taken yet another first period tardy—his first since he’d broken it off with Hailey—but Owen and Angelica needed to be on time for their own exams.
Things were about like he expected. Thanks to the miracle of social media, everyone had heard about the incident. No one had been crappy enough to actually share a picture of him lying zonked out on the floor, but some sophomore he didn’t even know had caught him being dragged down the hall by DeShaun on his way to Mrs. Bissell’s office. The image was captioned with a version of the story that painted him in an even less flattering light.
People pointed. People laughed. People taunted. Always a true friend when it really mattered, Owen shot back a few retorts, but there was only so much he could do. He passed Hayleigh McKnight and Jayce Deacons; she treated him to a look of condescension so profound that it if he hadn’t already been so thoroughly demoralized, he might have showed everyone then and there the empress’s new clothes. (Admittedly, he thought she’d lost some of Hailey’s ample weight in the past few months, but still probably competed with her jock boyfriend pound for pound.)
He even passed Hailey McManus, but he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with her. She’d always been so kind to him, and after their breakup, he couldn’t fathom the notion of seeking a sympathetic glance for his girl troubles. He even saw Heather once, a ways down the hallway. Conner about-faced immediately and hoped she didn’t see him.
He made it to his locker without quite dying of embarrassment, where he saw another kindred spirit, Miss C. She was standing right next to his locker, and locked eyes with him as he approached, smiling sweetly and looking even prettier than usual in her festive holiday garb.
“Morning, Miss C,” he said, trying to will the red out of his cheeks.
“Hi, Conner. How are you feeling?”
“Crash and burn, Fishers!” someone yelled as they walked by. He winced.
“Ya know. Like you’d expect.”
She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. “I was wondering. Do you have a first period exam? It’s my prep period, and I could use a hand with a few things.”
“Um, we’re doing presentations, but I already did mine. I could check with Mrs. Schmidt, I guess.”
“Tell you what. I’ll come with, give you a nudge. OK?”
Conner simply nodded and unloaded his backpack. He had to admit, there was a big change over his walk into the building and now walking alongside the young English teacher. There were still looks, still some grins, but as someone had literally thrown a bag of Beggin’ Strips at him on the way in—word had it that had been his approach to asking Heather out—this was a marked improvement.
Indeed, Mrs. Schmidt looked to be overwhelmed dealing with students who’d come in with excuses rather than presentation materials, so when Miss C interjected to ask to borrow Conner, the woman just waved a hand dismissively and off they went. She didn’t say a word until they were alone in the editor’s office. He couldn’t help but notice the sprig of plastic mistletoe over the door to the office, and once more thought bitterly of yesterday.
She invited him to take the desk chair, and perched herself on the desktop next to him. He always tried not to notice that Miss C was a flesh and blood girl—a woman, that is—but he was only now realizing how high her skirt was cut along the side, and the sheer quantity of slender thigh was immensely distracting.
“So how are you feeling today? How’s your head?” she began.
“Pretty bruised… kind of a headache, but I’m binging tylenol to keep it manageable. It’s definitely doing better than my ego.”
“Yeah, I thought maybe. I know how kids can be.”
Conner shrugged. “It happens.”
“It does? Because I’ve been teaching for seven years, and this is a first in my experience.”
“OK, so maybe it doesn’t happen. Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen twice,” he said with a weary but sincere chuckle. “Man, the party this afternoon is going to be so awkward.”
“Because of Heather?”
“And Jordan, yeah.”
“You don’t have to worry about him. I saw to it he was suspended. I tried to get him expelled, but that was the best I could do.”
“You…?!” He looked up at her in shock. “Wow, Miss C. You didn’t have to do that. But thanks. That’s nice of you.”
She patted his cheek softly; now he was hoping his cheeks were still red from before so they wouldn’t suddenly become so at her touch. “How many times do I have to tell you, Conner? When it’s just us, call me Kristy.”
“Right. Kristy. Sorry, I keep forgetting.”
She gave one last gentle swipe with her thumb before pulling her hand away. “It’s OK. Do you wanna talk about it yesterday? Might feel better to get it off your chest. I hate seeing you unhappy.”
Conner shrugged. “What’s there to talk about? She said she’d like to, but she’s leaving for college next fall, so she doesn’t want to start a relationship when she’s about to leave for California.”
“Well that’s something, right? That she’d go out with you if not for that.”
“Now if only I could get that news to spread as big as the fainting thing.”
“It’s her loss, Conner. You’re a sweet guy, funny, cute as a button… if I were ten years younger…” She was clearly joking. He was ninety-nine percent sure. She gave him a coy wink.
Ninety-eight.
Conner blushed. “Thanks, um, Kristy. Though careful, I don’t want Brent to beat me up.”
“He’d have to go through me,” she said, suddenly rising and heading into the classroom. She returned only a moment later with some papers from her desk, handing it to him as she sat back down. He tried not to notice that she was a little closer this time, her leg resting against his arm. It was rather distracting.
“What’s this?” he asked, glancing down. He saw it even as she was answering.
“Some good news for you. Great job on your final. You nailed the essay, and only missed two on the multiple choice. Solid A!”
Normally that would have merited a victory whoop, but a feeble fist raised half-heartedly over his head was all he could manage. “Awesome. Thanks, Miss C. I can’t believe you have them graded already.”
“Not all of them, but I thought my star pupil might need a pick-me-up and I thought it’d be an easy source of good news. I was a little nervous when I saw how fast you finished it, but shame on me for doubting, right?”
“I try not to let you down.”
“Feeling any better?”
“Some,” he admitted. “So anyway, you didn’t bring me here to talk about girls or cheer me up. What was it you needed a hand with?”
“Cheering you up,” she answered with a smile. “I mean, unless you wanna talk about girls. I got some killer advice for ya if you do.” Did her leg rub his arm, or was he imagining it? This was starting to get very distracting indeed. He folded his hands in his lap to keep her from seeing just how distracted he was.
“Well, when I find a girl who actually says yes, I’ll have to take you up on that.”
“I’m serious. If I can help, I want to. Suggestions, advice, practice… I’m your girl.”
Conner’s eyes bulged. “Practice?!”
“Yeah. You know, a little role play to build up your confidence. Try out some dialogue or whatever.” She arched an eyebrow. “Why, what’d you think I meant?”
That was merely the first of Conner’s uncomfortable encounters of the day. The second came during lunch. Owen and Angelica were doing some last-minute cramming, and he didn’t want to be a bother to them with the attention he was likely to draw. (Indeed, once Miss C was no longer at his side, the mockery had picked right back up.) So rather than sit by himself, he went to the one place he knew he could be alone: the nook under the stage in the auditorium.
It was dark in there, but he knew his way by now. Trying to crawl while using his phone as a flashlight was too much of a pain to be worth it. Down here, nobody would bother him, and the peace and quiet would be good for his throbbing head, too. He shuffled forward, waiting to feel the familiar rubber of the gym mat under his palms.
Instead, he bumped head first into something yielding, but quite solid. It surprised him so much he yelped in panic, instantly regretting it on account of the headache. He raced to get out his cell phone, quickly turning it on and holding it in front of him to reveal…
“Hailey?”
“Hi, Conner,” she said. She was sitting on the mat cross-legged; he chose to ignore the way it let him see right up her dress. She was wearing panties at least, but what a reminder of what he’d passed up.
“I didn’t think anyone would be down here. Sorry, I can let you have the place.”
She snatched his wrist before he could turn away. “No! We can share. I, um, actually thought you might be down here. After yesterday.”
“You heard too, huh,” he said with a sigh. Deciding to stay, he scooted onto the mat and lay down on his back. The pillows Hailey had transported here for them were still there, he was relieved to discover.
“Everyone heard. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, come on. You’re the last person who should have to feel bad for me for getting rejected.”
“Maybe. I was telling my mom about it last night, and she was like ‘serves him right’ and then Doug started in laughing like it was some joke, but I said I felt bad for you. At least I got let down easy and in private. You had it happen in front of a whole classroom, and then turned it into a sensation with the fainting. They say being unconscious is, like, really bad for you, you know that? Do you feel any different? Not that I’d expect it to—”
“My head hurts,” he interjected, chuckling softly. Conner had forgotten what a chatterbox she could be. It got old pretty fast, but it was endearing in sporadic doses.
“Yeah. Man. So… Heather Blake, huh? That’s your type?”
“I guess.”
“I mean, I guess I get it. Once you’ve had my tig ol’ bitties, it’s hard to downsize, right?” She giggled, but it sounded forced.
He let himself laugh, though not at her joke. Heather was incredibly stacked in that department, true, but for Hailey, breast size was probably the only thing the old Hefty had had over Hottie. Along with the shift in weight, she’d probably gone down two or three cup sizes. “Looks like.”
Hailey lay down next to him on her side, head propped up on an elbow. Lord, but she was gorgeous. Hayleigh may have lost some weight in her new body, but he was pleased to note the reverse had not been the case for his ex. “Heather was stupid to turn you down, you know.”
“Hailey…”
“I’m just saying. You’re a cute guy, smart, know how to treat a girl like she wants to be treated. You may think I’m just crushing on you, but I’m telling you. It’s a rare thing, the ability to accept and like people as they are.”
Conner grimaced, considering the source of the statement. “Yeah, tell that to Heather.”
“Yeah, some people don’t know how to appreciate what’s in front of them.” She brushed a strand of her silken hair aside. She let her words hang in the still, warm air of the storage area, and for a time, the two lay there silently. It was peaceful. Hailey McManus had somehow become the one beautiful woman he knew who didn’t make him nervous. He loved her right then, for that.
“You know, back when, you said you weren’t ready, and didn’t wanna rush things. And I wondered, you know, if you were feeling more ready.”
In spite of himself, Conner let himself look her over. There it was, that dynamite body he’d inadvertently given her. Slender waist, athletic legs, perky butt and perkier tits, and a face just made to be stared at.
If he didn’t have a shot with Heather… why not give in? He didn’t have to use TIOS or anything; she was all too happy to be with him all on her own. Sure she was a little tiring socially, and he could only imagine hearing the jibes that he’d stooped to Hefty Hailey levels after being rebuffed by Heather Blake. But like Angelica and Heather had said, high school was coming to an end all too soon. With the morning he’d had, Conner was beginning to see how silly it was to feel like this was eternal. Why not have a fun final semester, enjoying the rampant sexual appetites of a genuine submissive who was clearly infatuated with him?
Only then he remembered some advice his mother had given him once, advice which had saved him no small amount of grief on numerous occasions. Avoid making big decisions when you’re upset, she’d said. It seemed obvious, but how often did people rush into things without a level head only to have it blow up in their face?
Before he could say anything, Hailey responded to his hesitation. “Look, Conner. I don’t want to pressure you. If you’re not into me, you’re not into me. And you got hurt only yesterday, so it might be you’re not feeling ready anyway. So maybe for now just think about it, and get back to me?”
Conner smiled at her. “You’re a very rare person, Hailey. Thank you. I don’t know right now. But I know I left you kinda hanging before, and I don’t want to do that to you again. So I tell you what. Why don’t we meet up after school and talk some more, and I’ll have a decision. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” She rolled onto her back, the two of them staring up into what felt like the darkness of space. “I don’t suppose you want a blowjob to help you mull things over.”
Conner sputtered, but his voice literally broke when he tried actual words. Hailey immediately burst into a fit of giggles. “I was only kidding, but wow, your face. I mean, I would if you wanted, but only ’cause you already know how I feel about things. Cards on the table here.”
Conner did not take her up on the offer. That it was offered at all, and so freely, definitely made it harder to clear his head. Still, even if it was stressful to have to make such an important decision in the scant few hours he’d allotted to make it, it was nice to know that a beautiful woman was eager to get intimate with him. It made all the other stuff much more bearable.
He took his final two exams, and walked away feeling reasonably confident. He wasn’t the straight-A student that Heather was, but he thought he’d do well enough that, when report cards arrived, he’d earn one of his mom’s great big hugs, and an approving grunt from his stepdad. At least, he felt like he was a shoe-in to upstage Angelica.
Then last period came. Yearbook, and the holiday party.
Anxiety was hitting Conner pretty hard as he made his way down to Miss C’s classroom, hard enough that he stopped in the restroom to stave off a panic attack. After all, this was a group of people who had all seen it firsthand. Moreover, Heather herself would be there. He hoped she hadn’t had her own day ruined by all the talk going around.
After a few minutes of breathing exercises and splashing cold water on his face, Conner felt as ready as he was going to get. He strode into the classroom, the holiday music already audible from the hallway. Inside, everybody was nibbling at Miss C’s homemade Christmas cookies, sipping punch, and relaxedly sitting on top of desks and unwinding. Finals were over, and vacation was fifty-five short minutes away.
When he entered, suddenly all the conversation in the room stopped. As did Conner’s heart, quite nearly. He’d hoped to lay low, wait it out in the corner and pretend he was invisible. Instead, everybody was staring.
“Uh, sorry I’m late,” he said. He looked around. Heather wasn’t there, nor was Miss C, nor Jordan; as an afterthought he noted that one of the freshman staff members, Robbie, was gone, too, probably having left for break a day early.
Everyone kept staring; for the first time in his life, Conner understood how someone could be so afraid they’d pee themselves. Right before he turned and ran out of the room, it was DeShaun who broke the silence to stand up and approach him. The rest were still watching; Conner braced himself for yet another clever joke at his expense.
But that’s not what happened. DeShaun put one hand to his own chest, and said, “Conner, man, come on in. Look, I know some shit went down yesterday. But we all talked it over, and man… yesterday wasn’t right. We got caught up in the drama and I know some of us was laughing and said some stuff, and… well, look. We want to apologize.”
To Conner’s incredible shock, throughout the room the other staff members echoed DeShaun’s sentiment. Some only mumbled it, but many gave an open and hearty “I’m sorry.” It was good that it took some time for them to all get the words out, because it took that long for what was happening to sink in.
“You had a low moment, and that dick Jordan went and made it worse, and it wasn’t cool. We know and you know and we know you know we know that you basically do half the work around here. All semester long you been covering for us, trying to help us out without being too in our face about it. Though sometimes you do get in the face, but that’s cool, you got a job, man.”
He paused at a ripple of laughter. “But Conner, man, you’re like the Rudy of yearbook. That scrappy little dude who just don’t quit. I mean, you basically are the story behind This Is Our Story, ya know? So we hope you forgive us for forgetting that yesterday.”
Conner was still recovering from the shock of it all. “Oh. Yeah.”
DeShaun took Conner’s hand in a firm grip. “Come on, man. Let us hear the words. You feel us?”
“Yeah. I feel you. I… I forgive you.”
These people… all year long, he’d been nudging and nagging and revising and demanding, and he’d always thought it was tolerated but never appreciated. DeShaun cracked a big smile and pulled the editor-in-chief for a firm bro hug. He was pleased to see Siobhan was taking a picture of it with her phone; this would be great for the meta-spread.
“Thanks, man,” DeShaun said quietly into Conner’s ear, the sound covered by the cheers of the staff. “We’re your people. Had about enough of Jordan’s lazy ass dragging us down.”
They really were the best staff an editor-in-chief could ever ask for, Conner noted. If he hadn’t loved them before, he did from that moment on.
With that, the party resumed. Rather than lurking in the corner, Conner accepted an invitation to sit in the center of the circle with most of the rest of the staff. He didn’t dare ask where Heather was. Besides, for now, he was actually having a good time, and he was in no rush to ruin it with more reminders of yesterday’s debacle.
He half-listened to the banter of the staff, but he was mostly looking inward, trying to come up with an answer for Hailey. Hefty Hailey McManus, the awkward, nerdy outcast who was covertly one of the hottest girls in school. He tried to remember all the reasons he’d called it off two months ago, but really what he remembered were two factors: his aspirations to date Heather, and his guilt that he’d been manipulating Hailey’s feelings for him.
Now, the Heather situation was good and resolved. As for the other, Hailey clearly didn’t have any hard feelings about the sexual tone of their little fling, and still was interested in him. If Hailey wasn’t someone he wanted to marry someday, she was at least somebody who made him feel good about himself and whose company he generally enjoyed. The same seemed to be true for her. With Owen so often occupied by Angelica’s endless appetites, it might be good to have a girlfriend of his own.
Was it true love? No. But maybe not every relationship had to be.
He got out his phone, and in a momentary stroke of cleverness remembered that Juno was one of her favorite movies. If you’re still in, I’m still in.
A moment later she responded, though rather than text, it was a bitmoji. Hailey’s profile picture appeared at the top of the text screen, her beautiful smile and perfect teeth; the bitmoji avatar was a lumpy girl with brownish-orange hair spiking a football in celebration. Maybe one day he could tell her what he’d done. Maybe—
The door to the editor’s office opened, and Heather came running out of it in tears. Miss C was standing in the doorway behind her. Nobody else looked surprised that the two had been in there, but the class was stunned to silence at the manner in which she came out. Heather dashed right through the room and into the lab, throwing those curtains closed behind her once more. Again the room fell suddenly silent but for Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer playing on the speakers.
“Come on, folks. Leave her be,” said DeShaun, and after a moment, Marissa awkwardly continued her story about her Black Friday shopping. Conner, however, glanced over to Miss C; she inclined her head toward the curtains, and mouthed one word. Go.
Conner excused himself from the group, and while he was aware every eye was following him, he trusted now that no one would do what Jordan had done yesterday. He slipped through the curtains and drew them closed to protect Heather’s privacy. The sounds of the party faded to near silence; the lights were off in the little computer lab, save for a couple monitors that had been left on, emitting a soft blue glow.
Heather was curled up in a little ball on one of the bean bags in the corner of the room, and was clearly sobbing. She didn’t seem to have noticed his approach, so he cleared his throat softly. “Ahem. Hi there, Heather.”
She only glanced up for a moment. Her makeup had run down her cheeks, turning her pretty face into a splotchy mess. “Oh. Hi, Conner.” Those words were all she had in her for starters; after that, she went right back to crying.
“Are you OK? Do you want me to leave you alone?”
She didn’t look up, her response directed to her knees. “You can stay.”
Conner pulled up a chair near her; it was a good long while before she was composed enough to look back up. He had a tissue at the ready, but while she tried to dab at her face, it didn’t do much.
“Can I ask what happened?” he asked softly.
It took Heather a long moment to get the words out. “I got a C on the final. I…” She failed to suppress a sob, continuing once she trusted her voice again. “I asked Miss C if she’d graded mine yet, and she showed me.”
“Oh, shit. I can’t believe… That’s so… Well, at least with A’s for both grading periods, it still averages out to an A minus, right?”
“Eighty-eight percent. That’s my semester grade.”
Conner winced. For most people, even most honors students, an 88% was a solid grade. Some perfectionists might beat themselves up over it, but they wouldn’t break down in tears. Heather, however…
By now, he knew the details intimately. How her mother had gotten pregnant with Heather’s older brother in high school and dropped out; how Heather’s wealthy grandfather had disowned her for the better part of twenty years. Then along came Heather, a pretty little girl like her mother and with all the same aptitude; afraid his granddaughter would throw her future away the way he still believed her mother had, he’d set aside a trust fund for her. Its purpose was to fully fund Heather’s college education, but only if she managed to keep getting the straight A’s she’d gotten all through elementary and middle school.
The old man had died before he getting the chance to see it through, but he had the foresight to put it all into his will. The upside was that Heather would still have the chance to fulfill her dream going to the school she’d fantasized about since childhood. The downside, however, was that it made a situation like this possible. One in which an 88% in one semester of journalism would cost her everything. Her grandfather wasn’t around any more to be appealed to, and she’d told stories of how Heather’s aunts and uncles were salivating over the prospect of her failing—failing, with a single B+—and having that trust fund revert to their ownership.
“Oh my god. Heather, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.” He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her until she stopped crying, but he’d blown that yesterday. The best he could do was be a good friend.
“I got my acceptance letter last week from UC Berkeley,” she said.
Thoughts of the many times she’d spoken of her hopes to go there came to him before he put two and two together. “Oh wow, that’s great!”
“They even offered me $15,000 a year in academic scholarships. Mrs. Prendergast said with my grades, I could probably scare up another couple thousand or so. And you know me, always paranoid, so I ran the math. It’s… bad.”
“Math? What math?”
She looked up. “Without my grandpa’s money, I’m going to need just over a hundred thousand dollars in loans to cover it. Assuming I can get that much. According to my loan calculator, that means that over thirty years, I’ll wind up repaying $234,000. Give or take. All because I wrote one shitty essay. Two stinking percent short.”
Conner let out a low whistle. He’d known it was expensive—hence why his own plans were to stay in-state, try IU or maybe Ball State—but he hadn’t figured UC Berkeley would be that high. What did one say to something like that? Better luck on your other finals?
“I… I can talk to Miss C. She and I are pretty tight. You’re just a few points shy of an A, right? I can show her what we’ve been working on, see if maybe…”
“Don’t,” she said. “I know you’re trying to help, but I don’t want to get there on pity.” Her head sunk back to her knees.
“Look, I get that. Trust me, I’ve learned plenty about pity recently. But is your pride really worth a quarter million bucks to you?” He gave her a hard look, and didn’t flinch when she returned it.
A minute later, and with Heather’s blessing, Conner slipped back out to the party and asked Miss C if he could talk to her a moment. Nobody else in the room had any idea what was going on, so naturally every ear was perked even if they were doing their best not to eavesdrop. Not openly, anyway. He closed the door to the editor’s office behind them.
“Miss C, we have to do something about Heather’s grade. Did she tell you how much this is going to screw up her future?”
“I can’t talk to a student about other students’ grades.”
“Come on. She’s done great work this year, and some of it you haven’t even seen yet! I can show you, if you want. So she got one lousy test grade. Those two percentage points are going to dump a mountain of debt on her she’ll be pinned under for decades. We have to be able to find some wiggle room somewhere in there. This will destroy her.”
“She’ll adapt her plans,” she said gently. “There are plenty of other good schools out there that are much more affordable than Berkeley.”
“No, but… it’s not just that. She’s been chasing this dream for years. It’s about the money, yeah, but it’s also about her proving something to people. People who believed in her, and people who didn’t believe in her.”
“Look, I can’t change someone’s grade as a favor. It would be unethical, and unfair to all my other students who came close but didn’t quite make it.”
Conner raised his voice as defiantly as he dared. Which, with Heather involved, was rather daring indeed. “The stakes aren’t this high with those other kids! Look, you missed it earlier when DeShaun did this amazing spiel about how we’re in this together. And he was right! If I have to watch our smartest, hardest-working staffer lose her dream, it won’t only crush her. It’ll crush me, too.”
Miss C’s demeanor shifted suddenly. “Is that so?”
He nodded. “Seriously. Please, Miss C. I’ve given you everything I have. Please. Just this once, for me.”
She paused. “This is really what you want?”
“Yeah. It is.”
And, as he was preparing to redouble his insistence, she… smiled. “If it will make you happy, then… all right. Just this once. For you.”
“Really?!” Conner shot up to his feet. He’d groveled, yes, and was prepared to beg if he had to, but he hadn’t expected it to actually work! He wanted to be able to be able to honestly say to Heather that he’d given it his all. “Thank you Miss C!”
She laughed as he threw his arms around her in a fierce hug, and she returned it a moment later. “It’s Kristy, and Merry Christmas, Conner.”
He let her go after a long moment (especially once the conspicuous pressure of his teacher’s breasts against his chest started risking still more distractions). “I… I didn’t think you would! Guess I should’ve gone out for debate instead of yearbook, eh?”
“I keep telling you I want to see you happy again, and I mean it. If there’s something you need to feel right again, I’ll help with anything I can,” she said.
The endorphins flowing, he glanced significantly to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway. “Anything?” he joked, eyebrows waggling.
To his shock, Miss C—Kristy, since they were alone—took an aggressive step forward, close enough that their chests were once more touching, largely due to how far hers jutted out. She was right around his height, and her face was mere inches away. “If it would make you happy.” Her face was stone serious.
Spirits still high from the stay of execution on Heather’s future, he grinned and called her bluff. “Just don’t tell Brent,” he joked.
She nodded. “I won’t.”
Kristy Coszic-Lewandoski leaned in, wrapped an arm behind her editor-in-chief’s back, and pressed their mouths together. She kissed him. Her head tilted to one side, nose rubbing at his cheek as she writhed her lips against his. It was the most shocked he’d been in months. But when Miss C’s mouth opened and her tongue glided across her lips and then beyond his, it was too incredible, too perfect not to reciprocate. His hands unconsciously moved around her, one resting in the middle of her back, and one slipping down to cup her surprisingly taut but still well-rounded buttocks.
Finally, they needed air, and she withdrew. “Was that good? Did it make you happy?”
She’d had some kind of strong peppermint in her mouth. It ended in his.
Conner, awestruck, removed his hands from her like she was a scalding piece of metal. “Wow. Um, yes. So much. I mean, I’m sorry I… I didn’t… You’re so… Wow. Yes. Happy.”
She laughed softly. “Good. Now, I realize that was a little breach of the teacher-student boundary, but hopefully it was worth it for you.”
Dimly, Conner began to become aware of what had just happened. Miss C was Miss C. She was Kristy. She was his teacher, yes, but they were practically friends. But she was his teacher. Oh, shit! Stuff like this got people on the news! If anyone saw…! Glancing back, he saw the blinds were closed, the door still shut. Still! What if she…? What if he…!
“Oh no, I’ve upset you all over again. I’m so sorry—I was just trying to help. I won’t do it again unless you need me to, OK?”
“Yeah, um, we probably shouldn’t… yeah. Oh geez. Oh wow. Oh shit. Sorry! I meant wow.”
“Look. Why don’t you go break the good news to Heather, OK? It’ll do you some good, being a hero to a lovely damsel in distress. Then before you leave for break, come back in and we’ll work this out, OK? But for now, go to Heather.”
He nodded, stumbling backward toward the door. “Right. I’ll go tell Heather. About the grade! Not about the… you know. Kiss. I’ll go, then I’ll come back. To talk about it.”
“Conner, wait.” He stopped instantly. She slowly walked up to him, then just as she got into what he hoped and dreaded but really really hoped was kissing range again… she pulled up a tissue. “You have some lipstick there,” she said.
“Oh,” he said, letting out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold.
Then her face was coming at him again, and she dragged her deliciously wet tongue across his lips, from one corner all the way to the other. “There, now we can just…” And she dabbed at it a few times. “Off you go.” She opened the door; there was no more saying anything about it. He scurried once more through the party, not stopping to so much as look at anyone.
Heather was still hugging her knees to her chest in the bean bag chair. “No dice, huh.”
He realized then that she must have expected he’d be smiling if he had good news, but while that kiss had been mind-blowingly good, it had also nearly made him forget the good news. “Actually… you’re good.”
Her head snapped up, blonde hair flying. “No way.”
Conner nodded. “I told her what it meant to you, and how hard you’d worked, and offered to wash her car every weekend for a year, and… she said she’d do it. Hand to god.”
In a flash, Heather had her arms wrapped around him, hugging him so intensely she backed him right into a work station, nearly toppling the monitor. She didn’t seem to care.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Fresh tears dripped onto his shoulder. Conner merely stood still and held her, just as he’d wanted to before. It felt like the embrace went on forever, yet when she let go, his arms still ached to keep hold of her.
“You don’t really have to wash her car, do you?”
“Oh yeah. Wash and wax, the whole nine yards,” he joked.
She grinned. “Good. I’d have paid you for it, if you did. Let’s see, figure an hour a wash times twenty weekends a semester when you factor in spring break, if I paid out half what you saved me, call it a $125,000, so that’s… hey, not bad, a little over six grand an hour.”
“I guess we don’t need to worry about your math final.”
“For one, that was simple division, and for two, no, we definitely don’t.”
The two were quiet for a moment as the news sunk in, and her hope was restored. Finally, he felt compelled to speak. “So we’re clear, I didn’t get involved just because of what happened yesterday.”
“Why, what happened yesterday?” she said sheepishly.
Conner played along. “You don’t remember? You know, how you asked me out and I very gently told you to get bent, then you stone cold fainted. How embarrassing for you.”
Heather frowned. “Wow, really? Because I would have sworn that it was the other way around…”
He laughed. “You must’ve hit your head harder than I thought, to forget something like that.”
She rubbed at the back of her head. “Yeah, I guess I must have.”
“You know, it’s probably a good thing, when you think about it. I mean, if I’d ever asked someone out like that and they said no, I’d sure want to forget it. What with the begging on your knees, telling me how brilliant and charming and gorgeous I am, offering sexual favors… Not a proud moment for the Blake clan, I gotta say,” he teased.
Heather looked down. Still feeling awkward about yesterday, he thought. “Wow, I… That’s so… Really?”
Conner leaned down until he made eye contact. She looked… confused? “What’s wrong?”
“I feel so dumb. I had it all backwards. Really must’ve whacked my head just right, I guess. So, I… And you really… wow.” She grimaced.
“Heather, no, I…” Conner stopped himself. TIOS. Had he really rewritten her memories so easily? On accident, by joking around?!
“Man. And all day… no, I must have misinterpreted what everyone was saying. I’m glad you said something… I was misremembering, and thinking it was you who asked me out, and I was about to, you know, ‘throw you a bone,’ and…” Her cheeks colored. “I don’t know what I was thinking, that someone like you would even be interested in me.”
For months, in idle moments when he was feeling weak—or just plain horny—Conner had brainstorm ways to use her TIOS-induced gullibility (where he was concerned, at least) to get her interested in him. Everything had always felt so contrived that it had always felt like there was no point trying. It had never occurred to him that she’d believe him even if the things he said were his thoughts on her own feelings!
What a roller coaster of a day this had turned out to be! The snide comments and brutal teasing on the one hand, but then all the temptations and distractions thrown in his face. From Miss C’s flirty behavior this morning, to Hailey’s offer during lunch, to that bizarre kiss a few minutes ago…
For the first time in months, Conner let his libido take charge and see what he could do. “It’s OK, Heather. You said it all yesterday, remember?” She clearly didn’t—and couldn’t—but he went right on. “Not to toot my own horn, but you were saying how you think I’m the hottest guy in school—maybe not for everyone, but to your tastes—and how you didn’t care whether or not college is coming up next year, you’d regret it forever if we didn’t at least try.”
His eyes flickered down to her prolific chest, and he pushed through one more, part of him bracing himself to be slapped. “You know, and how you’re so tired of guys who only treat you like Heather Blake, the brainiac honor roll student, and want a guy who sees that in you, but also appreciates you as Heather Blake, owner of the most amazing breasts at Northside High.”
Heather went from red to crimson at that last. “Wow. I said…!” She looked down, possibly to examine said breasts, today covered in a heavy sweater that did nothing to flatter them but was nonetheless powerless to conceal them. She finished in a near mumble. “I guess yesterday-me was feeling pretty honest.”
Conner wanted to shout in exultation. It was working! He didn’t know how deep any of it was sinking, whether it was reorganizing memories or actually changing her feelings, but either way, she didn’t seem to be questioning it. One way to find out.
“Hey. You know, I’ve been thinking about it ever since yesterday, and… maybe I was too hasty. I’d had a stressful day, and maybe I wasn’t letting myself think about what an amazing woman you are. I know you said you’d feel incredibly lucky to get a shot with me, but I think I’d feel lucky to be with you, too. Do you wanna give it a go?”
She looked up, eyes welling up with fresh tears. “Oh my gosh yes!” she exclaimed, and for the second time in ten minutes, a beautiful girl was kissing him. Miss C had kissed him like she was trying to egg him on, seduce him; Heather was kissing him like she’d been deprived of her favorite activity for years. It was a rain of rapid kisses at first, but when his hand settled softly on the back of her head, she let him hold her there and slathered his tongue with hers like she was trying to teach it to dance.
“Minty,” she murmured, sticking out her tongue to show the mint he’d only minutes ago accepted from their teacher. Now it belonged to Heather.
Unlike with Miss C, however, this kiss evolved into a genuine makeout session. At some point Conner fell backward onto the bean bag and Heather slid down into his lap, straddling him at the hips. The way she was grinding her crotch against him, they were only four layers of fabric away from simply fucking. Time and again they shushed one another, lest the sound carry into the classroom. Occasionally they’d hear muted laughter or a desk being dragged across the tile floor; each intrusion was a reminder to keep their affairs quiet.
As quiet as possible, anyway.
Then she sat up. Her breasts loomed over him, almost obscuring his view of her face with their enormity. She grasped one in each hand, caressing them while continuing to slowly rock her hips. “So, um, I know I said I like guys who like them…” she whispered.
“You sure did,” Conner lied.
“So… do you?” She bit her lower lip nervously. There was a confident grin threatening to break out behind it, though.
“I dunno, I haven’t really seen them yet, have I?” He gave her the same eyebrow waggle he’d given Miss C right before she’d kissed him.
She giggled. “OK, but… oh gosh, nobody better come in here…” Heather grasped the bottom of her sweater and slid it slowly upward. There, for the first time, he laid eyes on her tummy. She had a little more padding than the other girls he’d seen naked of late, but it suited her. Heather’s beauty was a thing of curves.
Then it was up over her bra, and he scrapped his old definition of “curves” altogether. It couldn’t possibly cover these. Frankly, he was impressed that her bra was able to cover them. Conner had spent enough time as a younger man browsing his mom’s lingerie catalogs to recognize a minimizer when he saw one. Lord, how this one was straining to do its job. Two navy blue cups encased these twin mounds of Heather-flesh, and it was clear they were digging into her skin from the way her boobs pooched out of it.
“Holy god in heaven.”
She smiled giddily. Whether she was pleased because of the suggestion he’d put in her head, or because she genuinely liked the attention, he didn’t know, nor did he care right then. Frankly, if she hadn’t been proud of them before, he couldn’t see the harm in her enjoying the attention now. “Well?”
He responded first with his hands, attempting to grasp one in each. They were huge, so much bigger than any he’d handled before. More than a handful, which he’d heard Owen insist was a waste; Conner would be excited to report back how very wrong his friend was. “These are the most incredible tits I’ve ever seen.”
Heather made a face. “Can we not use that word?”
Conner had gotten so used to calling them that with Hailey and her habit of dirty talk, he’d forgotten some women might object. “Sorry, just yesterday, that was what you called them. I just figured that was how you referred to them when you were, you know, turned on.”
“Oh. Well, ‘breasts’ is fine,” she said, but as her hands closed over his, it was clear the rebuke didn’t mean she wanted him to stop.
Oh well, I tried, he thought. Some other day, he’d probe the extent of his influence. For now… tits, even if he called these roses by some other name, still tasted as sweet.
By the time the dismissal bell rang, he’d gotten the cups of her bra tugged out of his way (or whatever she wanted to call them), and was sucking on them so hard she had to chastise him not to give them a hickey. The sudden noise jolted her out of it, and she quickly pulled her bra and sweater back into place.
“That was amazing,” she said. “Thank you for giving me a chance. I’m really, really looking forward to our first Date date. Which is when, by the way?”
“I’m free tonight,” he said. “Is that too soon?”
She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. For the first time since he’d known her, he felt free to admire the way her movements made her boobs bounce. “Great! You got my number, so… text me? We’ll figure out a plan.”
“Cool. You ready to…?” He nodded to the curtain. The sounds of the after-school stampede in the hallway were clearly audible.
“Is my face a mess?”
“Your face is beautiful,” he said. “But… yeah, kind of a mess.”
She grinned, and asked him to retrieve her purse from the classroom. It was empty now, though the light was still on in the editor’s office. Heather had a wet nap handy, and Conner helpfully dabbed her clean.
“So I’ll see you tonight, right?” she asked. His heart swelled with how hopeful she sounded. Was that how he’d sounded to her?
Rather than answer, he pulled her against him and started kissing her again. She permitted it for a short while, but then remembered she was going to miss her ride. “Sorry, making up for wasted time,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She beamed, walked away, then ran back and gave him one more gentle kiss before hastening off into the halls of Northside.