This Is Our Story Ch. 10

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 thatJuno 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 forRudolph 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 foryears. It's about the money, yeah, but it's also about her proving something to people. People who believed in her, and people whodidn'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 shewas 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 wasyou who askedme 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.