Tainted Love (Sweetest Taboo #2) (16 page)

She paused and rested her blue eyes for a second. “I just don’t think you should consider this a real relationship, that’s all. He’s treating it like it’s a casual fling, and you should probably treat it the same way. Who knows what else he has going on?”

“So you think I should just blow him off?” I asked, confused.

She grinned coyly. “Iz, I think you should play hard to get, because that’s what really works with men. Don’t throw yourself at him, because he obviously doesn’t appreciate the great thing he’s got in front of him. There aren’t many guys out there like your Tom, who actually puts you above himself and who respects you until the very end. You have to remember that if you’re going to be dating other guys otherwise you’re setting yourself up for major disappointment.”

***

Once I was back in my room alone, I tried to focus on what Susie had said. Play hard to get. Pass it off as a fling. I could certainly do that. I didn’t want anything very serious with Marcus right now. At least I didn’t think I did. Sure, I got caught up in the moment from time to time, but my heart still belonged to Tom. He was the one I wanted to go home to, to be with. But still, I wanted Marcus to respect me, to treat me as his equal, and I wanted to feel important in his life. I tried my best to keep guilty thoughts and emotions at bay because if I allowed them to surface, I would begin to feel incredibly remorseful about what I was doing with Marcus, and rightfully so, knowing full well that it would break Tom’s heart.

For the moment, I’d loaded up my class schedule this year, wanting to take as many classes as possible, so that I could take a light load during a study abroad program in the latter part of my college career. My mind was like a sponge suddenly, dry and waiting to be quenched by knowledge. Acquiring knowledge became my new obsession, and it was an easy and productive way to keep my mind off of Tom and the pain that I would cause him should he learn about my relationship with Marcus.

I welcomed my new obsession, which was to be the best and most knowledgeable person in all of my classes. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life yet, but I would almost inevitably be going to graduate school, and for that I would need awesome grades in my undergraduate career. If I went into publishing, or international human rights – which I’d also been considering – I needed the grades to get into a good graduate or law school. My obsession with earning the top scores in my exams and papers was not only getting me where I wanted to be someday, but also making time fly by at what seemed to be record speed.

This
thing
with Marcus, however, began to get in the way. He was taking up a great deal of my time, and even if he was teaching me – and supporting me with my thesis – the time commitment was bound to start affecting my grades sooner or later. If I could count on him – talk to him about my problems – maybe it would be different. Maybe I’d feel that he was a supporter rather than a detractor. The problem was that I couldn’t see him as anything but a detractor, an obstacle getting in the way of my studies. I’d always been very self-confident, but even I could see that Marcus was starting to kill my self-esteem, both as a young woman and as a student.

He was nothing like Tom, who’d always made me feel better about myself and supported my vision. And just like that, Tom was all I could think of. His warm, loving smile, his charm, and the way he always hugged me tightly when I needed it most. If he were here, I knew, I’d be in his arms, cuddled up against his chest and feeling like the most important girl in the world. Suddenly he was all I wanted. I wanted him with me, immediately, and not a second later. I wanted to hear his voice, feel his touch, and listen to his heart-felt and sincere words of wisdom.

I threw the covers off and stumbled toward my desk, looking for my phone. It would be the middle of the night, but I knew he’d answer. Tom always answered when I called. He was always there when I needed him. I brushed my hands feverishly over my desk, scattering books and papers as I tried to find my phone. I’d left it here, I knew I had – I hadn’t taken it to bed with me because I didn’t want to be disturbed. Finally my hand fell upon a keypad and brushed the cold glass screen of the phone. I snatched it up, ecstatic to have found it, and pushed Tom’s speed dial button on my phone.

To my surprise, I found a text message waiting for me. Not one from Tom or Marcus, but from Vicky, my old high school friend. Read your email, immediately, it said. Frowning, I put the call to Tom on hold and brought up my email on my laptop. What on earth could Vicky be emailing me about? Had something happened? Was someone in trouble? Had something terrible happened to her family or to one of our high school friends?

These thoughts increased the urgency of my search, and I scrolled through the email list frantically, looking for Vicky’s email address. When I found it, I clicked on the email to open it up, and began reading feverishly.

After a moment, I closed my laptop, dropped the phone on my desk and stumbled back to bed, shocked. The email wasn’t about anything that happened to Vicky’s family or any of our friends, which was a relief, but the news was almost as terrible. I know Vicky was just trying to be a good friend, as she stated in her e-mail, passing on news that she thought might be of interest to me. Not that she knew anything, because I had never shared a shred of gossip to her about Tom and me. But a sentence in her e-mail – an obvious allusion to the fact that she
did
know something – brought me up short. The paragraph after that had made my pulse race and my hands feel clammy. Tom and Christine had been seen spending more and more time together, Vicky had written. Tom was coaching the cheerleading squad, though everyone knew he had no experience with cheerleading or choreography, and had been spending time after cheer practice speaking with Christine in private. Vicky claimed she had even seen them going into his classroom together, after hours. Vicky was there, of course, coaching the high school swim team, and had access to all of the teachers’ lounges. Apparently, teachers were gossiping about this indiscretion, she said, once again broaching the fact that he’d been embroiled in a similar scandal several years before. Vicky’s opinion, clearly articulated in her email, was that he was walking an awfully fine line, especially after what he had done to me.

I gasped as I read. The teachers were clearly referring to the very same rumors they had heard about Tom and me years ago. And now they were saying that he was doing the same thing, again! Clearly those gossiping teachers never believed my story, my defense of Tom’s behavior.

He even drives her home every day, can you believe that?
Vicky had written.
Mr. Stevens invites her into his truck, in plain view of everyone, and then drives off with her practically sitting on his lap. I don’t even think they’re trying to hide it
, she went on in her e-mail.

Back in bed, I tried to corner my thoughts and settle them down. There were a million and one possible – and potentially reasonable? – reasons for the behavior that Vicky was citing. So he was coaching the cheerleading squad, that was no big deal – it meant more money, and if he were trying to buy a house for us to live in some day, he probably wanted some additional income. He was driving Christine home; well of course he was – she was his friend’s daughter, and probably was doing her parents a favor by dropping her off  at home after practice. Seen going into his classroom alone with her? She was probably just waiting for him to finish up his paper work so he could drive her home.

Besides, Vicky was just passing along some gossip. It wasn’t like any of what she heard was actually confirmed or factual. Even if the gossip were true, it still didn’t mean that anything inappropriate was going on between Tom and Christine. Although we hadn’t been talking as much lately, I’d talked to Tom yesterday for a lengthy period of time and he’d sounded just as loving and affectionate as ever. We even made plans for me to fly home in the next couple of weeks, to go look at some houses with him. If anything was going on at the high school, the last thing he’d want would be for me to be in town and close to the gossip or to the ‘other woman’.

Those were very logical explanations, and those were the only ones I was prepared to consider.

Still, the nagging voice in the back of my mind – that one that told me things I didn’t like to hear – reminded me of the many times I’d heard Tom whispering to someone on the phone, in his seclusion, while we were together at the B&B. The voice also reminded me of how Christine had turned and directed a coy and conniving smile my way, that day in the parking lot. The voice continued, it told me that Tom still hadn’t made any plans to travel to DC to spend time with me since I’d returned to college. Why not? What was keeping him in California? I don’t know if I could blame him, though. I had been dodging Tom; I had been making excuses the few times he brought it up, excuses I know he didn’t like, but accepted anyway.

In the end, though I did my very best to listen to the reasonable voice, the irrational and judgmental voice in the back of my mind won out. I had ended the outgoing call to Tom and just turned off my phone for the evening. I turned over and hid under my covers making sincere attempts to fall asleep and make all of the bad thoughts and emotions disappear with a deep slumber. After some tossing and turning, I drifted off to sleep with a large, aching wound in my heart, and the resolution to try to make things work with Marcus.

Chapter Twelve - Here Comes the Rain Again

T
om hung up his phone and groaned. One of his good friends – and a trusted colleague – from school had called him at school, and he hadn’t been calling with good news. Some teachers in the district were talking about Tom, his friend had said, and what they were saying, well, it wasn’t good at all. His friend said that teachers were discussing some allegations made again Tom, but they weren’t like the allegations that were made years prior. The allegations weren’t true, but Tom knew as well as the next person in that district that the truth wouldn’t mean a great deal if parents got a hold of this particular story. His friend had overheard one of the conversations, and called Tom to warn him about what may be coming his way – nothing but controversy.

Everything had been going so well at the start of the school year. Tom had come into the new year full of excitement, and geared up for another great year at that. He’d reconnected with Isabel over the summer, and they’d started planning their future together. His current house that he lived alone in was on the market, and Tom was going to take Isabel with him as they searched for their dream home. It finally felt like he might get his chance at a whole new – and very welcomed – life, out of this town and in a place where no one knew the intricacies or the history of his relationship with Isabel. A life that included a fresh start and a woman at his side that he was completely in love with, and with whom he actually wanted to spend the rest of his life. He’d had a whole new lesson plan for the year, and was excited at the thought of employing new teaching methodologies in the History class he would be taking over. Then he’d been asked, his arm twisted by the Principal actually, to coach the cheerleading squad – a great opportunity for any teacher looking to augment their income – and had found, to his surprise, that the girls on the squad were smart and incredibly dedicated and hard working. He didn’t know anything about dance, choreography or cheer routines of course, but he’d taken over the cheerleading fitness component, helping with cardio and weight training to keep their muscles toned and strong.

Everything had been going so well. Now, a mere six weeks into the new semester…

“Well hello, Mr. Stevens,” a voice suddenly said, drawing him out of his thoughts and into the real world. He looked up, remembering that he was in fact standing outside of his classroom waiting for the students to arrive, and saw, to his dismay, several of the cheerleaders walking toward him.

Ordinarily, he would have been glad to see any of his students, and happy to speak with them about their days, answer any of their questions, and just socialize with them about the day’s activities and events.

The girls making their way to Tom, however, were the very cheerleaders that his friend had warned him about over the phone.

He shrank back against the wall, wondering if he could get out of this encounter gracefully. A teacher shouldn’t be afraid of students, he knew, but these girls – Taylor, Samantha, and Lindsay – were making his life extremely uncomfortable at the moment.

“Hello Taylor,” he said in a neutral tone, trying to sound welcoming yet more somber than his usual self. “Samantha, Lindsay. How are you girls today?”

Taylor, the leader of this particular group, smiled slyly and tipped her head slightly in a conceded way. “Oh we’re fine, Mr. Stevens. Aren’t we, girls?” The other two nodded, smiling as well, as Tom gulped. Best to get it over with, he told himself realizing suddenly that there were many students around. He couldn’t afford to inquire as to what they had been saying about him and risk making a scene.

“What can I help you ladies with?” he asked polite, standing several feet away from the group. “I know you haven’t suddenly decided to enroll in my photography class, isn’t that right?” He gestured to the classroom behind him, hoping that the girls would take the hint. He had a class to teach in five minutes, and there were already students busying about in his classroom.

Taylor, though, sidled closer to him, keeping her hands to herself but pinning him to the wall with her eyes. “Oh we don’t want any photography lessons,” she murmured quietly. “You know what we want. The question is whether you’re going to cooperate.”

Tom took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was hard for him to believe, or get used to the way students had become so confrontational and direct with their teachers nowadays. Fortunately, Tom had been warned about what these girls were up to – or at least what Taylor wanted – and he had no intention of satisfying her wants now or in the future. The girls had come to him several weeks earlier, telling him that they’d heard about Isabel, they had read the news stories, and believed every bit of the rumors circulating about him and that swimmer. They’d placed a bet amongst themselves that he’d do the same again, taking one of these girls into his bed if they made themselves available. Of course, the wager was not communicated to Tom, but was a competition amongst the three girls. When Tom had refused, shocked and horrified at their assertiveness and their individual demands of him, the gang of girls had gone one step further.