Even More Lunch
“Walker.”
Jordan would have welcomed a building fire if it meant he
could tear his eyes away from the quizzes he was grading. A third of his class
had scraped by with Ds. In HPS. In glorified gym class. On a multiple
choice quiz. He blinked and glanced at the open door of his office; David,
Coach Wyman, stood in the hall beyond, hands in his track pants pockets, giving
him a flat, humorless smile.
“Your wife’s here.”
Jordan bit back a frown; the rest of the coaching staff had
found it a little too convenient that it was acceptable for spouses to attend
the same college, one as a coach, and the other as a student. He wasn’t allowed
to date one of his students, but there was no rule against his wife being a
student. And none of his colleagues bought his lame-ass story about her
transferring to KSU after they were married for a second. They all knew the
truth. They all thought he was a skeeze for it.
Whatever.
“Thanks,” he said, and made a little motion for David to
continue down the hall.
Instead, the guy turned around and Jordan heard, “Afternoon,
Coach Wyman” – Ellie – “I have carrot cake if you’re interested.”
She appeared in the doorway, in short pleated gray skirt,
black sleeveless top, and ballet flats, basket of promised carrot cake wedges
in hand. Sometimes – when he was struck with the storybook visual, like now –
he marveled at how unaffected she was. She was a realist, she was cautious, and
she had a temper, but she was sweet, and she liked wearing little ballet shoes and
bringing him lunch in his office in the middle of the week. He didn’t ever want
her to become as jaded as him.
He didn’t hear David’s answer, but watched Ellie hand him a
square of cake on one of Paige’s pink napkins. His answering smile was the kind
that set Jordan’s teeth on edge, the kind that reminded him that other men were
drawn to that sweet, unaffected air of hers too.
She stepped into the office and eased the door shut behind
her. Her smile tweaked. “They still look at me funny.”
That’s
because you’re nineteen, he thought. And still a student. But he said, “They’re trying to figure out how
to steal you away from me,” as she dropped her basket on the desk and laid a
hand against his shoulder.
She kissed him – slippery pink gloss that smelled like sugar
sliding against his lips – and was smiling when she pulled back. “I think
they’re trying to figure out how you haven’t been fired yet, actually.”
“That too.”
He watched her fold back the cloth napkin that covered the
basket and wondered what had prompted so much carrot cake…and what was causing
the careful, polite smile she tossed him. That smile meant something, he just
didn’t know what.
“Paige made this for a client who, apparently, wanted a cake
shaped like a carrot, and not an actual carrot cake,” she explained, setting a
piece thick with cream cheese icing before him. “So now we have an eight pound
carrot cake at home with no buyer.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And I brought you some of that leftover ham; I put it one
of those good potato rolls. And there’s chips.” She rifled through the basket.
“And a blue Gatorade and…”
“Uh-huh. Hey, baby?”
Her wide eyes – gray that looked silver beneath the overhead
lights – turned up to him from beneath her dark lashes, her smile already
getting sheepish.
“What are you buttering me up for?” he asked, biting back
his own smile.
She pulled a face and dropped into the chair across from his
desk, arranging her short skirt with a familiar, unconscious sort of poise. She
stalled, and he didn’t mind, because when she reached to tidy her hair, her
raised arms pressed her breasts together against the V of her top. “My sister’s
staying with us this weekend.”
Her parents were out of town – snorkeling in Maui or
whatever Natalie Grayson’s psychiatrist had allowed – and Ellie’s
seventeen-year-old sister Nikki couldn’t be trusted to stay alone. That, and
she’d totaled her VW the week before, so she was without wheels. Nikki was the
worst kind of spoiled little princess, but because Ellie couldn’t leave her
sister alone to fend off the wolves- and whatever loser she was dating this
week – she’d volunteered to “keep” her for the weekend. “I know,” Jordan said,
already hating the thought.
“Well.” Her expression became guilty. “You remember I told
you about that collaborative research paper I’m working on in my – ” she rolled
her eyes “ – women’s lit studies class?”
“If you’re inviting those bra burners over for dinner, I
think I feel the flu coming on.”
“They’re not coming over,” she said with a firm headshake.
“But tonight is the only night all our schedules are free, so we’re meeting in
the Student Center to work on the paper after class.”
It took Jordan a full two seconds to figure out what that
meant. And by that time, Ellie was already wincing and saying, “I need you to
pick up Nikki this afternoon.”
He would do it – of course he would, because if she’d come
in with a basket of empty sacks and told him to rob a bank, he would have – but
he didn’t have to be happy about it. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t hate
you.”
“She makes fun of me.”
“You make fun of everyone.”
He made a show of sulking, slumped back in his chair, arms
folded. But he spoiled it by reaching for his cake.
Ellie’s smile was dazzling. “I’ll make it up to you. I
promise.”
And that always meant food and sex.
He sighed. “What time does school let out?”
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