she from?”
“Nebraska.”
“So she lives too far to use Gradskys’ stock to make a splash.”
“Yep. Damn shame. But I think the school officials would call it an unfair advantage.” He sent me a sideways glance. “Etta’s been clocked below eleven on Whistler’s Dream.”
I shook my head. “That’s unheard of.”
“That’s why I hope that little gal gets to make a name for herself.”
We watched the fire for a while. I kicked the closest charred log deeper into the embers.
Jerry swallowed a mouthful of beer. “The last three weeks of this session are gonna drag out forever.”
God, I hoped so. I couldn’t believe how fast time had flown by and I’d been in Colorado for two months. Cres and I had been together for seven of those eight weeks. When I realized I only had three more weeks with him, tightness banded across my chest and I felt as if I was slowly suffocating.
“If you think you’re a sucky teacher, does that mean you won’t be back next session?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
Then Jerry’s cell phone rang. He said, “Sorry, I gotta take this,” and swung his legs over the other side of the log, disappearing into the darkness.
Staring into the flames, I brooded about my uncertain future. I didn’t trust my ambivalence toward teaching because I was a master at self-sabotage. Maybe I considered this teaching experiment a failure so I had an excuse not to sign on for the next session. Then I could stick with the “I’m a ramblin’ man” warning I’d given Cres and return to the blacktop.
But I didn’t want to go back on the road. Facing miles of empty highway day after day…I knew firsthand it was as lonely as it sounded.
Loneliness hadn’t been an issue since I’d rolled into the Grade A complex. I spent my days surrounded by students and staff and my nights wrapped up in Cres.
Sexy, funny, sweet Cres.
I’d been such a fool to think I could work him out of my system. The more time we spent together the more I wanted. Yet Cres hadn’t mentioned extending our time.
Maybe because you’ve done a bang-up job convincing him of your “itchy feet.”
Only because he’d been so insistent about never getting into another serious relationship, and I didn’t want to be the pathetic hanger-on, trying to convince him that I was worth the risk to his heart, because I wasn’t sure I was.
There was some confidence. I’d gotten my mo-jo back in the arena, but I didn’t have the same certainty with Cres unless I was fucking him.
Why did this have to be so fucked up? Why couldn’t I just tell him my feelings had changed and I needed more than “just sex?”
Because I was worried that his feelings hadn’t changed. He’d made some strides in letting go of his guilt for moving on from Mick, but I knew he was still hung up on the guy. In all the weeks we’d been together, Cres hadn’t asked me to sleep over at his house. Which made no sense…unless he considered the bedroom he’d shared with Mick a sacred place he never wanted to share with another man. By denying me access to his personal space, he believed he was keeping to his original declaration he didn’t want anything but a physical relationship.
As much as it bugged me that I hadn’t gotten an invite into his bed, I had too much fucking pride to ask for one.
Boot steps stomping across the underbrush had me shaking off the melancholy. I expected to see Jerry reappear, but Macon stepped out of the dark woods.
“Breck! What are you doin’ out here?”
“Enjoying the campfire, the stars, and the clean Colorado air.” While I’m wallowing in uncertainty of where “what is” intersects with “what could be.”
Jesus. Where had that hippie-dippy philosophy come from? I sounded like I’d been sampling some of their product.
Macon eyed Jerry’s empty beer can. “Are you enjoying an icy cold beer? Because I’d take one if you were offering.”
“Sorry. Fresh out.”
“I forget you’re a
“Nebraska.”
“So she lives too far to use Gradskys’ stock to make a splash.”
“Yep. Damn shame. But I think the school officials would call it an unfair advantage.” He sent me a sideways glance. “Etta’s been clocked below eleven on Whistler’s Dream.”
I shook my head. “That’s unheard of.”
“That’s why I hope that little gal gets to make a name for herself.”
We watched the fire for a while. I kicked the closest charred log deeper into the embers.
Jerry swallowed a mouthful of beer. “The last three weeks of this session are gonna drag out forever.”
God, I hoped so. I couldn’t believe how fast time had flown by and I’d been in Colorado for two months. Cres and I had been together for seven of those eight weeks. When I realized I only had three more weeks with him, tightness banded across my chest and I felt as if I was slowly suffocating.
“If you think you’re a sucky teacher, does that mean you won’t be back next session?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer.
Then Jerry’s cell phone rang. He said, “Sorry, I gotta take this,” and swung his legs over the other side of the log, disappearing into the darkness.
Staring into the flames, I brooded about my uncertain future. I didn’t trust my ambivalence toward teaching because I was a master at self-sabotage. Maybe I considered this teaching experiment a failure so I had an excuse not to sign on for the next session. Then I could stick with the “I’m a ramblin’ man” warning I’d given Cres and return to the blacktop.
But I didn’t want to go back on the road. Facing miles of empty highway day after day…I knew firsthand it was as lonely as it sounded.
Loneliness hadn’t been an issue since I’d rolled into the Grade A complex. I spent my days surrounded by students and staff and my nights wrapped up in Cres.
Sexy, funny, sweet Cres.
I’d been such a fool to think I could work him out of my system. The more time we spent together the more I wanted. Yet Cres hadn’t mentioned extending our time.
Maybe because you’ve done a bang-up job convincing him of your “itchy feet.”
Only because he’d been so insistent about never getting into another serious relationship, and I didn’t want to be the pathetic hanger-on, trying to convince him that I was worth the risk to his heart, because I wasn’t sure I was.
There was some confidence. I’d gotten my mo-jo back in the arena, but I didn’t have the same certainty with Cres unless I was fucking him.
Why did this have to be so fucked up? Why couldn’t I just tell him my feelings had changed and I needed more than “just sex?”
Because I was worried that his feelings hadn’t changed. He’d made some strides in letting go of his guilt for moving on from Mick, but I knew he was still hung up on the guy. In all the weeks we’d been together, Cres hadn’t asked me to sleep over at his house. Which made no sense…unless he considered the bedroom he’d shared with Mick a sacred place he never wanted to share with another man. By denying me access to his personal space, he believed he was keeping to his original declaration he didn’t want anything but a physical relationship.
As much as it bugged me that I hadn’t gotten an invite into his bed, I had too much fucking pride to ask for one.
Boot steps stomping across the underbrush had me shaking off the melancholy. I expected to see Jerry reappear, but Macon stepped out of the dark woods.
“Breck! What are you doin’ out here?”
“Enjoying the campfire, the stars, and the clean Colorado air.” While I’m wallowing in uncertainty of where “what is” intersects with “what could be.”
Jesus. Where had that hippie-dippy philosophy come from? I sounded like I’d been sampling some of their product.
Macon eyed Jerry’s empty beer can. “Are you enjoying an icy cold beer? Because I’d take one if you were offering.”
“Sorry. Fresh out.”
“I forget you’re a
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