You Should Smile (3 page)

“Goodbye, Smiles.”  His voice was barely a whisper, but I heard it.  That nickname again.  Funny…it did make me smile.  This time, though, his tone held a finality to it, almost as if he really was saying goodbye to that girl he met at the gas station.  I was a different person now; I was his student.

I turned to go.  I heard his voice again, louder this time, “Oh, hey.  One more thing.  What the hell is a Pickup Grinner?”

I stopped abruptly.  I looked down, afraid to meet his eyes.  “Ummm…..I, uh….”  I blushed again.  I hated the fucking blushing.  It was starting to make me curse. 

He smirked at my discomfort.  “Do I even want to know?”

I finally regained my composure and stood up straighter.  “It’s nothing bad, if that’s what you’re thinking.  It just had to do with your grin….and the fact that you drive a pickup.  That’s all.”  I downplayed the grin part as much as I could. No need for him to know the extent of what his grin did to me. 

He nodded slowly.  “I see…..”  It was as if he knew, though.  He grinned again, slowly this time as he met my eyes.  The grin led to creases around his eyes and lips.  He held it.  So damn sexy.  This grin was just for me.  A secret sort of grin, I suppose. 

I returned it wholeheartedly.  Then I walked away.

You know how in the movies, when the main characters have great chemistry, and you just want them to get it on?  I mean, you’re screaming at the screen yelling, “Kiss her!  Do him!”  You just want them to make out or fuck or something because the tension, the build-up to that moment is complete torture.  Well, that’s what my life was like at that point.  Every single day.  For months…. 

That first fall semester, I only saw him at school.  I would see him in the hallways; I would meet with him in his office; I would talk to him at university functions.  He was always professional – no more comments or nicknames or creasing grins.  The heat between us was unmistakable, though, no matter what was said or done.  Every inadvertent touch, every glance, every word….resulted in constant, unresolved sexual tension.  Meanwhile, my lady parts, my libido, she was so crazy horny livid that she’d even formed her own separate identity.  I called her “Ms. L.”  She would scream at me.  Curse, actually.  “Fuck you, Shay!  Fuck you!  I have NEEDS, you know!”

I
finally
broke up with Decent Pete over Christmas break.  I knew it was time when I began to think about Dr. Thad Reeding as soon as Pete and I started kissing.  That’s a terrible thing to do.  I wished him well.  I hoped he could find someone who would love him like he needed to be loved.  I wouldn’t miss the sweater vests, though.  Not at all.

By the spring semester, I was single and horny and frustrated.  You can imagine, I’m sure.  No bueno.

***************

The thing about grad school that’s different than college is that there really isn’t a line or distinction between professors and students.  You’re all adults and grad students and professors hang out together all the time outside of school without influence or titles.  Professors even sometimes dated grad students without a second glance or thought – unless of course, the professor was on the student’s committee.  There was a definite conflict of interest there, so it was really the only ‘no-no’, it seemed. 

I’d never been around Dr. Reeding in an environment outside of school, though.  That was about to change one random Saturday night in March.  Like a piece of hanging yarn at the bottom of an old sweater, everything started to slowly unravel after that. 

That night, a lot of people from our department went out to a nice dinner and then to a local bar named Moe’s to play some pool.  I loved Moe’s.  The decor was minimal – and by minimal I mean there was a main bar, scattered bar stools, and pool tables.  That’s it.  It was my kind of place. I loved dive bars and holes in the wall. 

“Girl, you look ravishing tonight!”  Grant yelled in my ear.

“Thanks, Queenie.”

“I mean, you look like a glassful of sin.  That dress is really smokin’.” 

“Okay, okay.  Grant.  Thanks….” I hissed. 

He smirked at me, knowing I was uncomfortable with compliments.  I have to admit, though, that the little black dress and pumps I was wearing were cute.  Oh, who am I kidding?  They were hot.  I didn’t know if
I
was hot, but my dress and shoes were.  I didn’t dress up a lot, but I guess I could make a pretty good go of it when I tried.  The dress made my boobs look full and perky and it hugged my curves in the right spots.  And the shoes were entirely fuck-worthy....not that I was looking to do that tonight.  I mean, who with?  There was no one I wanted to do that with….well, except someone who was completely off-limits.  Single life sucks.  I was half-tempted to call Pete to apologize and cocoon myself in his boring decency.  He was safe and being single was fucking
scary
.

Lost in my thoughts, Grant finally went in for the kill.  “It’s a good thing you look so fine tonight, my dear, because look who’s over there…”  He nodded his head toward the back of the room and I could see a group of men by the pool tables.  There, with his back to me and his perfect ass bent over shooting pool, was none other than Dr. Thad Reeding, a.k.a. Pickup Grinner.

Grant grabbed me as I turned toward the door.

“No way, Princess.  We’re not leaving.  You’re going to stay and have fun.  So put on your Big Girl Panties and let’s get a drink.”

“You know I hate you, right?”  I muttered. 

“Yeah, yeah.  You love me.”  He dragged me toward the bar to get a drink.

***************

One of our grad school friends, Paul, picked a table toward the door and I sighed in relief.  I chose a seat facing the front just so I wouldn’t have to look at Pickup Grinner’s ass anymore.  Not a good idea.  It certainly didn’t help cursing, livid Ms. L.

The conversation was going along nicely until I saw Melissa’s eyes light up and her annoying voice scream, “Oh hey, y’all!  Why don’t you join us?  We’ve got some empty seats here.”  (Melissa was a fellow grad student.  She was one of those girls who acted dumb, even though she was smart, which annoys the hell out of me.  Why do girls do that?  Don’t we get stereotyped enough on our own without feeding into it?  She also employed a horribly fake southern accent.  I think she was actually from Boston.  Remember those “brown-nosing douchebags” I mentioned earlier?  Yeah, she was one of those.  She was pretty terrible.  We only hung out with her because she was in our program and we’d all go out together.  You couldn’t really just exclude one person without being completely rude, so everyone put up with her out of necessity.)

I didn’t even have to turn around.  I already knew who she was inviting over.  I could see it in her predatory, batting eyelashes.  I could also feel his presence somehow.  I always did.

I kept my head down.  I was not going to act all excited about him coming over.  I screamed to myself, say no, say no, say no…..then, another voice was screaming, say yes, say yes, say yes.  In addition to the livid Ms. L., I was apparently bipolar, too. 

I heard his voice say, “Well, actually…..” Then, another male voice cut him off.

“We can join them for a bit, Thad.”  This voice was smooth and controlled. 

Their group rounded the table and I saw him.  He was wearing the same jeans as the ones he wore on the day I met him.  I knew because I couldn’t forget them.  I tried to smile and half-waved awkwardly. 

“Hey,” I said.

He stared at me hard.  His face was set in stone, no emotion.  He looked away and mumbled, “Hi.” 

Well, that was awkward.  Ms. L. was even more pissed.  I sat up straighter in my seat and looked at his three friends, who
were
willing to smile at me.

Melissa, in all of her glory, flipped her hair and screeched, “Hey y’all.  I’m Melissa.”  Others followed with their own introductions around the table.  I felt their eyes come to me. 

“Hi.  I’m Shay,” I said to the three, smiling wide. 

When I said my name, one of the guys, the pretty boy blond, coughed into his fist.  He looked at Thad quickly, then back at me. 

“Shay, huh?  Well, it’s nice to meet you, Shay.  I’m Chris.”  The controlled voice guy.  His eyes met mine and gleamed.  A broad smile went across his face.  His teeth were white and perfect.  No creases, but he did flash some gorgeous dimples.  He looked like something out of an Abercrombie ad.  You know those movie stars who are so handsome that they’re actually pretty?  Perfect features?  That was him.  He did nothing for me, of course.  Ms. L. was only screaming for his friend.  His friend, my committee professor.

He looked back to Thad again and everyone seemed to freeze.  Finally, another one of the guys, wearing a motorcycle jacket, grinned widely and said, “Haha.  This is gonna be great.  Count me in.”  He grabbed a chair and sat down, laughing to himself. 

The others still stood there, until finally, Thad reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat down across from me.  The other two followed, filling in around the table.  I noticed Thad’s eyes meet the motorcycle guy’s and Thad gave him the stare of death.  Motorcycle guy winked back at him.  Thad mouthed, “Fuck you,” in return. 

I knew Grant had seen it all, too, when I saw him grin next to me.  I kicked him under the seat.  He kicked me back.

I had no idea what that little scene had been about between those guys, but I knew that it had something to do with me.  Or sitting with me.  Or being with me.  Obviously, I was the last person Thad Reeding wanted to be sitting near that night, for whatever reason.  That pissed me off.  It pissed off Ms. L., too, and you don’t mess with that bitch.  She’s crazy. 

So I ignored him.  He just sat there and brooded like a bump on a log.  His grin was long gone, replaced with a permanent scowl and dirty looks exchanged amongst his friends.

I listened to their conversation and interjected now and then to the other guys when they talked.  I learned that they’d all gone to a nearby college together and were on the baseball team.  Yes, baseball.  Now it all made sense.  Pickup Grinner had a baseball ass!  No doubt.  That is what a baseball ass looked like, my friends.  I learned that Thad had played shortstop.  (As a former college second baseman, I was totally impressed, but I said nothing.)  Chris (Pretty Boy) was their second baseman.  Motorcycle Guy, whose name was Lance, played left field.  The third guy, Sam, apparently played catcher.

I also quickly learned their personalities.  Sam was a goofball – tall, lovable, kinda crazy.  He wasn’t necessarily hot, but he was cute in that goofy sort of way that guys sometimes have.  He was a high school teacher.  His wife (her name was Gail, I gathered) was home with their baby. 

The other three were apparently single.  Chris was your All-American golden boy.  He was a legal aid attorney, so a good guy, too, it seemed.  And Lance, well, Lance was a force to be reckoned with, I could tell.  His jet black hair was longer and looked like it hadn’t been combed in days.  A five o’clock shadow framed his chiseled face.  Cocky as hell.  Investment banker by day, tattooed badass by night…..and a voice that oozed ‘I-can-give-you-a-very-good-time.’  I just knew that girls fell all over him – and he knew it, too.  He was a huge flirt.  Melissa had already set her eyes on him.  That was fine with me.  Even though I knew I had no claim on Pickup Grinner, I still didn’t want her to hook her claws in him.  Though, to be fair, with the mood he was in, no one would’ve wanted to get near him.

Melissa batted her eyes again and squeaked, “So what’d y’all major in in college?” 

Lance drawled, “Books, beers, babes.”  Then he winked at her.  I couldn’t help it.  I laughed and rolled my eyes.  He then winked at me, too.  I could tell he didn’t take himself too seriously.  He knew what he was. 

Melissa, however, ate it up like candy.  “In that order?”  Her voice was so annoying.  I thought I saw Thad wince at it from my peripheral vision, but I refused to make direct eye contact with him.

Chris interjected, “Not always in that order….” He grinned at me.  I smiled back.  I liked him. 

I liked them all. They seemed like good guys.

Lance jumped up from his seat.  “‘Scuse me.  I need to use the little boys’ room.”

The conversation continued as Thad still sat there, avoiding eye contact and grunting an answer now and then.  The others seemed to enjoy his obvious discomfort.

We heard a commotion in the back and looked back there to see that the waitress had dropped a tray of food in the floor.  Lance was helping her pick it up.  The whole bar seemed transfixed on the event, especially a group of college girls in the corner.  They giggled loudly.

Lance was hot, I could admit that.  His body was basically solid muscle.  I could also admit he looked pretty good bent over in tight jeans picking up food from the floor.  I kept my head turned back, watching as he went over to the group of girls and said something.  A collective gasp ensued. 

When Lance got back to the table, Sam piped up, “Hey Romeo, what’d you say to the college girls to get them all riled up over there?”

Lance smirked.  “I heard one of them say something about my tattoos, so I told her that she could take a closer look if she wanted.”

Melissa made a “hmmpph” sound and looked pissed.  Grant and I exchanged shared grins at her dissatisfaction. 

Thad groaned and rolled his eyes.  “Those are my undergrad students, asshole.”

Lance grinned at him.  “Yeah, I know.  You already told me that.”

Thad glared back.  “They’re probably not even twenty-one.”

“Dude, I know that.  I’m not going to fuck any of them.  I’m thirty-three years old, for Christ’s sake.  Give me some kinda credit, fucker…..Besides, the whole student thing doesn’t do it for
me
…..”     

I swear that laser beams shot out from Thad’s eyes.  He was stone-faced as he grinded his teeth back and forth to where you could see the tension in his jaw.  It looked like he wanted to reply, but didn’t. 

I didn’t have time to ponder Lance’s statement because Chris expertly changed the subject.  “So who wants to play some pool?”

I jumped up, ready to get away from Thad and the situation.  Sam excused himself and said he had to head home before his wife made him do the laundry.  I thought about leaving, too, but I’d ridden with Grant and he didn’t want to go yet.  I didn’t protest too much, though.  Despite Thad’s presence and mood, I was actually having fun with the rest of them.   

Thad tried to stay back at the table, but his friends convinced him that he was needed to keep the teams even since Grant didn’t want to play.