Leave the Night On Pt. 02

Awnnn, you guys...

I was just reading a comment I got for the first story I wrote for this site and realized my writing got so much better. It's all thanks to you.

I have the best readers on this site. Really. You're all so amazing and supporting. Thank you so, so much. You really give a girl motivation to write more. Every single comment you leave me is a gem. Honestly, they make my day.

In vain, I will apologize for my delay. I've spent this last year living in Denmark (that was nuts). Somehow, I wasn't in the right frame of mind to write. Turns out your comfort zone is the only zone for writing (in my case). I read and reread my stuff and found it all to be a bunch of amateur shit and new words just wouldn't find me. Sorry. I'm back now, babes.

I'm talking too much, but can I just apologize for the typos? There's a lot of wine involved in the writing of my stories.

The world is crazy. I hope you're all okay. If any of you aren't as lucky as I, if you're locked up in your home (I am too, although living in a farm has some liberty as a perk), I hope this story can be a fun distraction.

I swear I'm squeezing my brain dry to finish these stories of mine!

Enjoy it. Be safe and healthy inside your homes.

Next chapter is on its way. In the meantime, here's a long one for you.

XOXO,

Nana.

2

THAT RESTLESSNESS that's always been inherent to me has gotten worse.

Running isn't working today. My sneakers hit the asphalt in rhythmical steps, making soft thuds. My accelerated heartbeats fill my veins with freshly oxygenated blood. My workout playlist is on, music blaring out of my earphones. Even with that burning in my muscles warning me to stop, serotonin hasn't kicked in yet. Nothing seems to get my mind off. I can't make myself not think about him. He's a teasing little worm burrowing into my brain.

Julian fucking Song.

It's that easy for him. Two weeks ago, he sauntered into my classroom to remind me of his tempting existence. If I were more of a hypocrite, I would say this event didn't affect me at all. Except I'm very much affected. In addition to seeing him daily, when he drops his daughter at school, I have the occasional flashbacks of our times together as a regular intruder in my life. In the most inconspicuous and quiet of moments, a viral and very dirty image of the man will come, stick to my skull and won't leave however much I will it gone.

I'm driving myself insane. I never believed I'd lay my eyes on him again. I spent a mere few weekends with Julian over a year ago. I don't know him. And yet, he is the one man who roused in me a wild kind of attraction that has no reasonable explanation. Every other man that came after him was met with comparisons wherever they touched me. Because no one ever kissed me like Julian did. No one ever did me quite like he did. I never enjoyed being with a man as much as I did being with him.

Julian who I virtually know nothing about. Julian who can drive me out of my mind with that mouth of his. Julian who I don't dare say I don't want so as not to come off as a liar. Not when my imagination spun the touch of his hands into an almost existence, to the point where I could fool myself into thinking my smooth and small hands are his big, callused ones when I'm in my bed at night, all alone.

I slow my pace to a light jog. If I run anymore my heart will burst. The three blocks to home I walk worrying about tomorrow. The fieldtrip. I'm taking my little students to Julian's farm Monday morning. To be honest, I'm excited about this trip. Most of those city kids have never seen a pig outside the bacon form before and I'm also dying to see where the Songs live. In the weeks I've been teaching her, Hannah made dozens of drawings of their farm.

I reach home still thinking about what I went running to forget about in the first place. "All I'm saying is we need to do something about it." Cami's voice is the first I hear as I open the door to the loft.

"It's her life, Cam. We can't just stick our noses in her business," Lil's voice interjects.

My presence doesn't disturb my roommates as I make my way to the kitchen. Cami and Lil are perched on the couch in the eye of some heated discussion. I don't see Mel around. Her absence is not usually a surprise though. She spends most of her time with Jerky Marky, except for Sunday mornings. She's always home Sunday mornings.

"Where's Mel?" I ask.

"We can! We're her friends," Cami says, continuing the debate she's having with Lil, completely ignoring me.

"It's because we're her friends that we need to respect her," Lil says, trying to shove into Cami some of her consideration for other people's feelings. I throw her a sympathetic glance she doesn't catch. I gather Mel is this Sunday's debate theme.

"Hey!" I snap my fingers to attract the girls' attention. "Where is Melanie?"

Cami rolls her eyes at Lil before sliding them to me. "She burst out crying a few minutes ago. We don't know where she's gone, and she won't answer any of our calls."

I swig my water, leaning my hip against the kitchen sink, very unimpressed by this news. "Stupid Mark again?"

"What else?"

"Cami wants to intervene," Lil fills me in. "I say we should wait for her to come to us."

"Wow." Cami blinks her large eyes. "Genius, Liliane. Because she's so open with us about her abusive relationship."

It's the same shit all over again. Mark is a piece of shit. He mistreats Mel. Mel cries. Mark apologizes with flowers. Mel forgives him. He fucks up again. More flowers. In this vicious cycle there is never a scene in which Mel seeks our help.

Lil huffs, losing her patience with Cami. "We can't help her if she doesn't want our help!"

I see Lil's point. I partially agree with her although, to be honest, I'm more on Cami's side. "I think Lil is right," I offer my opinion and Camille's jaw instantly drops, mouth ready to protest. "But," I add, quickly, "Mel never asks for our help because she might not know she needs it. Most people in abusive relationships don't know they are, in fact, being abused."

"In other words, we should tell her," Cami says, giving Lil her I'm right look.

"I strongly disagree," Lil states. "We should gang up on him and have his balls cut off. If we try and tell Mel he's a shitty man who's undeserving of her she'll turn against us. She'll distance herself from us and still be with him. We'll end up as the bad guys because she already knows he's a scumbag, she's just refusing to acknowledge it."

"Lil, she cries over him once a week! That's not okay! He thinks he can fix his fuck ups with flowers every time he hurts her! She needs to get rid of him!" Cami punches a pillow. I'm sure she just imagined Mark's face on it. "By the way, I like this cutting off balls idea very much."

Camille and Liliane are two of the most tenacious people I know. These disagreements of theirs could go on forever if no one dares try to stop them. "Can I just say this?" I interfere, cautiously. Somehow, both of them let go of the bone long enough to spare me some attention. "What if we made Mel her favorite dessert tonight? We could do something to make her feel better and try, really, really smoothly, to tell her we're here if she needs us. We can offer her our help, as you want to do," I say, nodding towards Cami, "without meddling, as you strongly object to meddling," I conclude, pointedly tilting my head Lil's way. I lift a quizzical brow because I am, honest to God, surprised none of them reached this conclusion sooner being the smart women they are.

Lil is looking at me as if I just revealed to her the Earth is round. "Oh my God, Pearl."

I don't have time to ask Lil why she's looking at me funny because I'm attacked by Cami. Suddenly, there's a whole lot of arms and hair around me. I don't fall backwards solely because the kitchen isle is supporting me. "You." She kisses my right cheek. "Are." She kisses my left one too. "A FUCKING GENIUS!" She screams right at my face.

"Took you long enough to figure that out," I manage to say, even with all the billowing blond hair that's somehow gotten into my mouth.

"Lil. What do we need to buy to make Mel an apple pie?" Cami asks Lil, releasing me.

"Apples," Lil deadpans.

Faster than I can blink twice, Cami is by the door, shimmying into her coat. "Let's go, Liliane. We're bringing Jerky Marky down. You coming, Pearly?"

"You two go. I'm in need of a shower."

Later, I worry over Mel while I condition my hair. I've slept with a few assholes in my time, because who hasn't? But Mark is a champion in the piece of shit department. It's hard to reach that level of moral degradation. Mel thinks she loves him. I'm sure she really does, however unworthy of her affections he might be. I wonder how I can help my friend when she doesn't trust or like me. Perhaps my first step should be to make Mel see I'm on her side.

***

MONDAY MORNING I'm chatting with Charlie, the school bus driver, while trees blur past the windows as we drive to the Song farm. "Are we close, Charlie?" I ask him, conflictingly hoping we're close but also a thousand miles away.

He nods. "'Most there, Miss Pearl."

Great. "I better go get everyone ready." I stand from my seat at the front and sway to the middle of the bus where I'm in clear sight of everyone. I review this fieldtrip's three golden rules with my kids satisfied to hear nineteen six-year-olds chant them back to me in unison: Don't touch anything unless allowed. Stick together. Have fun.

"Alright, Lollipops! Now, listen: If you need anything, Miss Reynolds or I will help you, okay?" I dart a conspiratorial glance at the school's social worker, Marnie Reynolds, who principal Isherwood demanded come with me to aid me in the handling of the excited students. Little does she know, Marnie's my best pal inside that school.

The bus takes a right turn and the farm comes into view. It's immediately apparent why Hannah would say this is the best place in the world. It's gorgeous. We follow the unpaved dirt road and an endless field comes into view. The scenery is that of a bucolic painting. To our left, a vastness of green dappled by the shadows of clouds extends to the horizon where it meets the blue sky. At least a dozen of the most beautiful horses I've ever seen are happily grazing along.

I'm in awe of the plush greenness of everything. The wind sweeps through fur soft grass, more trees than I've ever seen in any park create patches of shade every here and there. Some yards ahead, I spot the house. It's nothing like the traditional farmhouse I was expecting it to be. In the blank canvas where my mind had drawn a simple house with a wraparound porch, columns and white painted boards, there's a modern wood and glass structure. It's all straight lines and nature's rawness like something Frank Lloyd Wright would design. Even from afar, the light reflected from the glass panels lining the house's façade makes me squint.

Charlie parks the bus on a spot safe from the sunlight under two enormous trees. From the window, I can make out Julian and Hannah coming our way, hand in hand. A grey, hairy dog on their heels. I turn to my thrilled students. "Okay, kids. Now remember the rules. Everyone put their hats and coats on. Miss Reynolds will help you get down the bus. One at a time, okay?"

As I climb down the bus to meet Julian, I'm already praying, Please God, don't let him be a smartass today. Please God, don't let him be a smartass today. If he even smirks my way in a manner that it's even remotely sexy my panties will get in a twist and my day will be hard to conduct. I've been mulling over this trip the whole week, over how I'll maneuver my roles as a straight-faced teacher around my students and a lust filled woman in denial around Julian.

Running a hand down my favorite t-shirt, I take in a steading breath and put on my Miss Jones attitude. I'm those first-graders' teacher today, not the loud moaning Pearl Julian knows. "Mr. Song," I say to him when he gets within hand-shaking distance of me. "Thank you very much for receiving us today." I'm able to make eye contact with him without the urgency to look away interfering. Good. It just proves I have no shame at all after creating those fantasies in which I cast him as the main star.

My outstretched hand says I'm very professional and serious and he better not play the funny man today. He probably knows I'm keeping my coolness by a gossamer thin resolve. There's that sparkling mischief in his eyes when his fingers curl around my hand. "Miss Jones. It's a having you. As always." His thumb circles a caress on the back of my hand, emphasizing the ambiguity of his words.

Seconds are enough of time for me to notice how hot and good his hand feels over mine. I still recall, all too well, how skilled Julian is in finding my weakest spots with those smart hands of his. The simple touch is like a spark that could burn down a whole forest. Before I get swallowed by it, I break our contact and avert my attention from him to Hannah. "Hey, Hannah! You doing okay? Excited about today?"

She gives me a shy though vigorous nod of her head that has her ponytail wiggling. "Yes! I helped Daddy make sandwiches for lunch," she says, barely containing herself.

"Sandwiches?" I steal a skeptical glance at Julian, trying to conjure him up wearing an apron and assembling sandwiches. "That was really nice of you, Hannah. Good girl!" She blushes and half buries her face into her father's side.

As if annoyed, her dog lets out a loud, single bark, tired of being ignored. "Hey there, Fluffies!" Hannah's eyes momentarily shine with surprise. She seems happy I remember her dog's name. She's told me about her beloved Fluffies countless times during class. I'm confident enough to pet his neck and he gives me a dog smile in return. He barks again, contentedly, tongue lolling out.

Behind us, Marnie is counting the awestruck children as they climb down the bus exuding curiosity. They glance and point everywhere, already wanting to scatter. When the frizzy haired Olivia comes down, Hannah forsakes Julian and rushes to her friend with Fluffies loyally in tow. All the other kids instantly gather around her, buzzing with their admiration of her home.

Julian eyes follow his daughter with that mixture of affection and apprehension naturally imprinted in all parents. "How's she doing?"

"She's doing great. She's a real smart little thing."

"She can be too quiet sometimes."

I worried about Hannah's quietness at first too. As the days went by, I realized she was opening up slowly, day by day. Every kid has their own rhythm; Hannah is following hers. "That's normal for some kids. I wouldn't worry, Julian. She's one of my best this year."

His eyes shift their focus, a worried frown lingering, screwing up the perfection of his eyebrows. "Great t-shirt," he says, suddenly changing the subject. He nods at my old t-shirt, patterned with a print of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band album cover. "You look nice."

Instantly, his compliment has me ridiculously pleased with myself, but I'm really too much of a coward to investigate why. "Thanks," I murmur, heat pinching my cheeks.

"As I recall, you're even more beautiful with no shirt at all."

I put a hell of a lot of effort into looking appalled at his words even as a little smile threatens to betray how much I like his comment. I press my lips together to keep it at bay. Smartass Julian is my favorite thing. "Rein in your tongue, please. I'm here to work, not flirt," I half-lie. In truth, I like flirting with him better than I like lasagna.

"Is that what we've been doing for these past weeks? Flirting?"

"Not we. You have been insistently trying to piss me off with your inappropriate..." I pause, scan him up and down and find I need to swallow a passing wave of lust "...everything."

He smirks as though he just read my impure thoughts. "You're indecently hot when you're pretending not to like me."

I throw a concerned glance over the kids' way. They have very sharp ears when it comes to things they shouldn't hear. "I'm not pretending," I whisper.

"Oh, yeah? So you really do like me." I'm neither denying nor am I confirming that.

"You are such a fucking tease."

"How'd they let you be a teacher with that mouth, My Pearl?"

"I'm good at my job." I'm also good with my mouth.

"That's what Hannah tells me," Julian says, all malice wiped from his voice. "You might go down in history as her favorite teacher. She thinks you're funny."

I swell with pride. I love my job. And to hear a parent, this specific one, say his child likes me, makes me proud as a peacock. "I like her, too. In fact, it's hard to believe such a nice girl is related to you."

"I'm-"

Marnie clears her throat behind me, interrupting what would, no doubt, be a very inappropriate remark from Julian. "Miss Jones?"

I whirl around. "Yes, Miss Reynolds?"

"All the kids are down," she says, and I don't miss the dance her eyes do between Julian and me.

I try to be subtle in taking two steps away from Julian. "Thank you, Miss Reynolds." He follows me to where the children are gathered. He introduces himself to the kids and they're all in awe of his adultness. At least half of them want to be a vet when they're grown. They ask him a million questions. Does he like living in a farm? Does he like being a vet? What do they have to do to live in a farm so big? He answers all questions to the children's satisfaction. I can't help but notice how good he is with them. I listen with avid interest to him telling my students about how the farm belonged to his parents and how he's always lived here.

"Which animal do you want to see first?" Julian asks. Almost everyone yells "Horses!" because we had a class about farm animals last week and horses were definitely their favorite. That might have something to do with me riding a broomstick horse while neighing.

Julian leads us all to a portion of the fence lining the field I saw when we first arrived. He introduces us to the farm's handler, Mr. McCullough, who comes wading through the horses like they are big dogs. There are horses of every color. Some dark, some light, some dappled. Julian tells the kids the colors mean different races. Some horses are good for racing, others for riding, and some others are simply beautiful.

Mr. McCullough gets swarmed by the children's enquiries. While everyone is distracted by the animals, I take advantage of the chance to appraise Julian in his natural habitat. He's a picture of a man. The kind Google might throw at you if you search hot cowboy. I ogle his rounded sin of an ass while he's leaning his arms on one of the fence's higher boards, one booted foot up on a lower one. Seriously, those pants of his are in an intimate relationship with his thighs. The faded indigo jeans hugs leg muscles I can't name but have sworn to love already. I would like his button-up shirt more if I didn't know what a tanned muscled sight it hides. He looks so much better once the buttoning down is done.

I'm so completely absorbed by my admiring trance that I don't see when, without a warning, Julian turns his head and catches my admiring eyes fixed dangerously low on his body. "You can, you know?" He whispers so only I can hear him.

"I can what?"

He dips his head, a smile that could make a woman like me lose her better judgment slowly stretches across his face. "Do whatever you're fantasizing about doing to me."

"Fuck you, Julian."

"That's just my point, my Pearl." His voice drops to a sensual octave. "You can fuck me. To be honest, I've been thinking about it."

He's been thinking about it? I like what I hear too much for my own good, though I hide it well. I'm not giving him the satisfaction of knowing he's currently the protagonist of my wet dreams; it would ruin the fun. Julian knows it. I can tell by the gleam in his eyes he knows that I love this game we're playing.