Lessons from a One-Night Stand

Holly

“I’m going to kill him,” is the first thought that hits my stunned brain. “Slowly.”

Since I’m a complete professional, I refuse to let the fact that I slept with the man standing at the mic, staring at me with wide eyes, derail me. So, I smile, one that probably does, but hopefully—fingers crossed—does not show how uncomfortable I am.

My heels click along the stage, the sound overshadowed by the students’ laughter, which was spurred on by this ass of a man holding the microphone.

I hadn’t regretted the one-night stand that left me panting for more—until now. If anything, I’d wondered if our paths would cross again and hoped for a repeat performance. Now, it’s no longer an option. Too bad… he really was a good lay, and I’m happy to report that I did not have my beer goggles on the night we were together.

Taking the microphone from his hand, I pretend to be unfazed by his antics. I’ve dealt with boys like him before. They’re usually under the drinking age though.

“I’m sorry, I…” His face is about as pale as a sack of flour.

“Thank you. Coach Bailey, right?” It’ll do him good to think I don’t remember him.

He licks his lips. “Yeah.”

I pretend that it doesn’t spur memories of his magnificently talented tongue…

Whoa, I zoned there for a moment.

Cut me some slack, it had been a while since I was properly taken care of.

I clear my throat into the microphone, ending the whispers and murmurs from the student body now that Coach Bailey has sat down behind me. He can stare at my ass all he wants. He’ll never have it in his palms again.

“Good morning, everyone.” I turn back to “Coach Bailey.” “Thank you for the wonderful introduction and the additions to my bio. I promise to let you do the streaking next time.” I give him my best fake smile.

Fay the office assistant’s face is fire-engine red as she sneaks a look at Austin, obviously uncomfortable.

Facing the students once again, I’m surprised to still have their attention. “I’m Principal Radcliffe, and what Coach Bailey didn’t tell you is that I’m from Florida, born and raised. I can’t believe you guys still have snow on the ground. It’s been years since I’ve seen it. I was a professor at Florida State before taking this job.”

“Why come here?” a kid near the back row screams.

Everyone laughs.

“Guess I’ve watched too many Alaska shows on the Discovery Channel.”

I earn my own laughs without the help of Coach Bailey.

I have my own reasons but they’re not for the student body to know. Thankfully, this job presented itself and people aren’t exactly clamoring to work in Alaska so getting this job was easier than I would have thought.

“I want each of you to know that I have an open-door policy. Although I’m only here for the remainder of the school year, since Principal Miller will be returning next year, I hope to get familiar with each of you. For you seniors, I’m making it my commitment to meet with each of you to talk about your future and what path you see yourself headed down. I know most of you will have probably chosen your school or maybe you’re weighing your options. But I think I can help you understand what the expectations will be once you reach post-secondary education and help you with what for some, is a difficult transition.”

Groans and more mumbling sound from the students.

“I mean, maybe one of you wants to take surveys for money. If that’s the case, I would be the go-to person for advice.” I turn to face the man whose good looks still make my heart beat uncontrollably. “Right, Coach Bailey?”

The auditorium fills with laughter.

He smiles, leaning back in his chair, one leg resting on his knee. Bastard thinks he’s the king of this school. He’s about to be struck from his pedestal.

“Well, I’m sure you all want to get on with your day. Please remember, my door is open, always. Have a nice day.”

Fay rushes up to the microphone, taking over to instruct the students to head to first period in a single-file line. She snaps at one kid roughhousing with his friend. I totally underestimated her, I’m happy to see.

A few of the teachers approach, introducing themselves before heading off to their classrooms, but Coach Bailey lingers, obviously waiting for me.

The auditorium clears out, and as the custodian—Kip, I think—stacks the chairs, Coach Bailey finally approaches me.

“Holly,” he says my name as though he knows me.

Okay, so he kind of does. But knowing I have a racing stripe under my panties is not the same thing as knowing me.

“Hello. Austin, right?”

He smirks, biting the inside of his cheek. “Yeah.”

“Nice to see you again. Thank you for that humorous introduction. Really got the kids’ attention.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “Yeah, sorry, I just thought it could use some spicing up.”

“So, you won’t mind if I send you my resume? You know, since I need to look for another job after Principal Miller returns? Maybe you can spice that up too.”

He laughs, his smirk growing. “All right, I deserved that. Truce?”

“Do most women give in so quickly, Austin?” I cross my arms, my blazer pulling on my shoulders.

His gaze floats down my body, concentrating on my breasts for a few moments, then he meets my gaze again. “Most times. You did on Saturday.”

I’m clenching my jaw so hard my teeth might turn to dust, but I ignore his reference to Saturday night. “That’s a pity then, because all is not forgiven here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to head to my office and get some work done.” I spin on my heel and head off the stage.

“Holly! Hold up.” He jogs to catch up to me and lightly grasps my elbow.

“Yes?” I flick my gaze to where he holds my arm, and he drops his hand.

“I just… I don’t want to start out on the wrong foot. I do apologize for ambushing your bio. I really am sorry.”

Now he knows he can’t railroad me. It was a hard lesson for me to learn in life, not to please people by constantly accepting apologies that hold no weight.

“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m sure I’ll see you around the halls.”

I walk down the row of chairs until I’m safely in the hallway, at which point I suck in a breath.

Am I really going to have to work with him day after day until the end of the school year?

I bet you’re happy you’re not me right now. I would be.

***

I’m not in my office for five minutes before my cell phone rings on my desk. My mom’s name flashes on the screen.

Damn it. I need this right now like I need a yeast infection.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer, sitting down in my desk chair. Ouch. My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I inhale quickly from the stabbing pain centered on my tailbone. I guess Alaskan high schools don’t have the budgets for comfortable office chairs that colleges do.

“Good afternoon, or I guess morning for you.” She laughs. “I was checking in to see how you’re settling in.”

“Well, remember I started my new job today?”

“Oh, that’s right. You should’ve called this morning to remind me.”

You know that phrase the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree? Yeah, that doesn’t apply to my mother and me. She’s laid-back and believes everything takes care of itself. And I… do not.

“I had a lot to do,” I say.

“You always do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I tap my pen on my desk in agitation.

I swear that a mother’s ability to say only three words and still get under her daughter’s skin is a special talent bestowed by the heavens.

“Nothing, sweetie. How’s the weather in Oregon? Cold?”

Now you know—I lied to my mother.

I know, I know, but I do have my reasons.

I cross my fingers. “Yeah. Good thing we went shopping for that winter coat you told me to buy.”

“Told you. You should listen to me more often. I did raise you.”

I ignore her taunt. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good. I’m heading into the restaurant for the lunch service. I miss you.”

The hardest part of coming here was leaving my mom. That, and lying about it. But she doesn’t always understand why I have to do the things I do, and I don’t want to hurt her.

“I miss you too. How about we Skype during The Bachelor tomorrow night?” I ask, dropping my pen on my desk.

“Perfect. You make a pizza and I’ll make one. It’ll be just like we’re together.”

A knock sounds on my office door and I glance over to see Fay standing there.

“It’s a date then. Have a great day, Mom.”

“You too, sweetie, love you.”

“Love you.”

I hang up, guilt eating away at my stomach. What she doesn’t know is best in this case. In a few months, I’ll be back in Florida and she’ll never be the wiser.

I wave Fay in.

“I’m sorry, Principal Radcliffe, but—”

“Please call me Holly.”

“Principal Miller said that shows a lack of respect for authority.”

God bless this sweet woman’s heart. “I insist. Call me Holly.”

“Okay… I hate to interrupt, but Coach Bailey has asked to be penciled into your schedule. You have an opening during fourth period, and he has a break as well. I wanted to make sure that was okay.”

I never want her to feel afraid of me, so I smile sweetly. “Of course, please pencil him in.”

I say that while thinking that he needs to stay the hell away from me with his sexy smile and tall, strong build. I could grab Fay by the lapels of her silk jacket donned with shoulder pads and scream in her face, “Do you have any idea how magical his fingers are? I’ll cave, Fay. How much is one woman supposed to resist?” But I’m a professional, so I’m not going to do that.

“Great. I’ll stick him in then.”

Visions of when Austin stuck it in me come to mind, and I feel my face heat.

She smiles and shuts the door when she leaves my office. If I wasn’t in a fishbowl in the middle of the front office, I’d let my forehead fall onto my desk.

So far today, I’ve been humiliated in front of my new school, stood face-to-face with a guy I let finger-fuck me on Saturday night—in his Jeep, no less—and lied to my mother… again.

This move is working out exceptionally well. What more could a girl ask for?