Sunshine (Student/Teacher Romance) 18+

1

Abel

"So, what do you do, Abel?" Cynthia asks.

I've just witnessed her suck down two strawberry daiquiris and it feels like we've just sat down.

"Um...well, I'm actually a teacher." I tap my fingertips together as if it'll kill the awkward tension that's began since we got here. "Feels weird to say that out loud—I haven't actually started yet. My first day is tomorrow."

"Wow," she says, but her tone is bland. "What are you going to be teaching?"

"English—senior English."

She hisses like she's just been pinched. "Yikes. Seniors."

Even though I know she has no idea what it's like to teach seniors—or to teach at all—it annoys me to hear yet another person tell me how much it sucks to work with high schoolers.

"Well, what do you do, Cynthia?" I blink, diverting the subject.

"I work with your sister, remember?" She purses her lips, her mauve lipstick disappearing for a second. "I'm the bookkeeper...in her office."

I nod. I don't know how I forgot that, when Hailey's the whole reason I'm here. She's been trying to find me a mate, as she refers to it. And she's been trying hard. My last girlfriend was back in college and since then, I just haven't dated much. Well, on my own.

I've been on about ten blind dates with every single woman my sister knows for the past three months. "Yeah, sorry. My memory goes in and out sometimes." Especially when I couldn't care less.

She raises her eyes at me as she sucks through her straw until very last drop is gone, leaving me to listen to the garbled remnants that rattle at the bottom.

Welp sorry Hailey. I wrecked another one in 5.2 seconds.

The date didn't get any better after that. The night desperately called for more drinks, and I wasn't the only one thinking it'd be a sure save to the disaster date we've been subjected to. She proposed we head to an actual bar, and I was on board.

We split a Lyft a few blocks down, had some drinks, and it didn't take long for me to realize that Cynthia was a lightweight and that this should have ended at the restaurant. The woman was singing loudly to jukebox songs, slurring her speech, and when she came stumbling out from the bathroom insisting she was going to grab another round, I coaxed her home—not my home, hers. I just wanted this to be over.

"Come in," she insists, her hands on my chest and mine on her elbows to keep her up. I can feel that her knees are seconds from giving out completely.

"No, I can't. I have to get ready for school tomorrow."

"School? What are you? Sixteen? Stop being such a good boy," she drawls. "I know you want to stay."

"Yeah, sure...I want to. I just...can't. You're drunk."

She jerks her head back, scowling at me the best she can when it's clear she can't even see straight. "I'm not drunk."

"You are, so I'm going to help you inside and get going."

"Well, fuck you, Abraham." She yanks her arm from my grip and stumbles against her door before turning the knob and hobbling inside. "What a waste of time."

"It's...Abel."

The door shuts hard in my face and I stand there for a few seconds staring at the chipping, red paint as I slide my tongue over my front teeth. She was right. It was a waste of time. All of the dates I've been on have been.

Hailey's constantly setting me up with wastes of time. The last two didn't call me after I'd kindly refused sex. I just figure there's time for all of that later in the relationship. All of these women seem to only want a quick screw, and then what? Would they have called me after if we did fuck? Would I care if they didn't?

I don't know.

I jog down the steps, hoping I never have to see the inside of this old building ever again. A good earthquake could send this thing crumbling for sure.

I wasn't lying. I do have to prepare for school tonight. I'm nervous as hell. I'm going into the profession of babysitting teenagers and I'm not sure how well I'm going to do.

It was only five years ago that public speaking in general made my throat close up with anxiety. At least I've finally gotten over that.

Progress is progress.

Tyson: Heard your first day of school is tomorrow. Down to celebrate tonight?

Celebrating to Tyson translates to taking shots until I'm in the same sloppy state as Cynthia. Stumbling drunk, seconds from a black out, but not before I cuss out some poor innocent soul for no reason at all.

But after that mess, I could use a strong drink.

I meet him at a bar downtown, somewhere around where I just came from with my date. When I enter the place, he spots me out before my eyes even land on him and waves me over to the counter.

"Congrats, Mr. Caswell." He picks up a shot glass he had waiting for me, extending it my way. "Here's to hoping these kids don't tear you to shreds."

We tilt our heads back and shoot the liquid down our throats, I cough, covering my mouth with my sleeve before glancing up at Tyson who only winces for a split second and sucks in an eager breath.

"Gee, thanks for the optimism, Ty." I shake my head, still recuperating from the throat burn.

"I'm a realist. We need more of me in this world." He heavy hands my back. "Someone who can tell it like it is, you know?"

His realism has never gone over well with my sister, but she still married him willingly, so go figure. My brow ticks as I set the empty glass down and rake my fingers through my hair.

"So, what school is it?" He laces his fingers, leaning an elbow on the shiny bar top. Looks like straight steel.

"Carlson."

"High? Dammit—a high school? Those kids are going to eat you alive." He shakes his head as if it's a shame. It really is. I'd been trying not to think about the fact that these kids were at the most unpredictable age, but hearing him say it out loud causes a pain in my chest.

"I know. I originally put in for middle school, but surely it has something to do with seniority."

"Mm-m. No. Middle schoolers are even worse than the high schoolers, believe it or not. Elementary would have been your best bet. Those kids are a little annoying, but you usually can get them to listen at least."

Tyson worked for a short while as an in-class aid, so I do value his opinion to some extent.

"I'm scaring you aren't I?" he asks with a sour look on his face.

I inhale deeply, reminding myself to relax my tense shoulders for the tenth time today. "I mean, it's nothing I haven't heard before."

"Dude," he begins, his hand landing on my shoulder, "You've got this. Just get your shit together tonight, get some rest, have a good breakfast and walk into that school like it's your tenth year. You'll be fine."

I nodded at his words, trying to take them in like something I could actually manage.

Maybe I could. Maybe it was that simple. To swallow the nerves and remember who the adult here is. Me.

I'm the adult. I'm the educated one. The responsible one. All I've gotta do is assert that. Can't be that hard...can it?