Page 7 of Forever the Bully
“Why didn’t I make a move on you when we first met?” I’m stalling.
“Yes, Jeremiah. Why didn’t you ask me out or at least, try to get to know me when I first started? It seemed like you thought I was a complete airhead who wasn’t worth being around.” Her perception of when we met is embarrassing.
No matter how much I try to overcome my natural shyness and awkwardness, it always seems to kick up when I’m around new people. Especially when I’m in an environment where I expect the gossip to haunt me, if and when I try to date someone. It’s beyond belief to hope no one whispered my shameful story to her over the last few weeks, trying to convince her I’m not worth her time.
“You and Blaise got to be friends really quickly,” I say, expecting her to realize what I’m getting at, but it’s obvious from the confusion in her eyes she’s not making the connection.
“You must have heard the gossip about me.”
Chapter Nine
Hazel
“Imay be new around here, Jeremiah, but I’m not yesterday new.” It’s cute he thinks there’s any chance I haven’t heard the rumors and gossip. Less cute he thinks I’m immature enough to judge him based on ancient history.
Of course, I know the story of how Jeremiah was such a bully to Blaise’s husband, Simon, he practically left skid marks on the highway outta town as a teenager. I also know Blaise considers Jeremiah a good man. Simon does, too. Of all the rumors I’ve heard about Jeremiah, the past month has shown me the man himself is so much more than what the Mariposa High’s teachers expect.
“Then you know why I didn’t ask you out at the start of the school year,” he says. There’s an earnestly expectant look on his face that makes it clear he thinks his explanation makes sense. It does not.
“The logic isn’t logicking here. Explain it to me like I’m one of your students.” If there’s one bit of gossip I’ve learned is true, it’s that Jeremiah has a magical way of explaining even complex mathematical concepts to students. It’s almost exactly the opposite of how he interacts with the teaching staff.
“I’m a bully. It’s why I don’t make friends easily or ask women out. Surely, you were warned about me when you started.” Exasperation makes his words louder than I’m used to him speaking, but from my perch in his lap, it’s easy to see the clouds of shame that darken his eyes. He’s not angry. He’s sad. He expects the worst, even as his erection thumps solid and thick against me.
“Youarea bully, or youwereone?” I ask, because as much as I want to enjoy the sizzle of our chemistry finally approaching a boiling point, his perception of reality is seriously skewed. And as a teacher who pushes students to use words to paint images in their stories, I can’t ignore the way a few simple word swaps would reframe things for this man I’ve grown to adore.
“Same difference. I’m not a magician who can turn back the clock and unhurt people. Now, I don’t give myself the chance. I keep my distance from everyone to prevent them from being hurt.”
“At what cost? You keep people at arm’s length even when they want to befriend you, and you don’t think that’s as bad as actively bullying them? What about Blaise and Simon? They’re your friends.” I’ll never tell Jeremiah this, but Blaise has been talking up what a great boyfriend he’d be for me almost since the day I met her.
He’s got people in his corner, and he doesn’t even realize it. My heart hurts for him, imagining how lonely it must be to hide away the way he does. It explains why he’s such a good teacher and so fiercely against bullying. Boundaries and limits in the relationships between students and teachers createclear parameters he wouldn’t need to worry about messing up. Whereas friendships with coworkers probably feel similar to the proving grounds his parents subjected him to when he was young and competing against his classmates for grades.
“They’re my friends because Blaise hasn’t met a stranger in her life and Simon forgave me because he worships her.”
I shake my head and lean close enough to brush my lips against his ear when I whisper into it. Time to start creating some positive connections with the affirmations I’ll ensure he accepts.
“If worshiping a woman is enough to forgive a bully, don’t you think the bully should accept the sacrifice and make it worthwhile?” I trace the shell of his ear with my tongue, delighting in the way his breathing hitches and a shiver works its way through his body. I know it won’t take much for him to eat from the palm of my hand, and I’m so ready for it.
I’m tired of the chitchat. I know he’s not that person anymore. He’s grown and matured, and while he obviously still has trauma to deal with, I know it’s something he can work through in the future, especially with me by his side—because I don’t intend to go anywhere.
But now—right now? I don’t want to talk any longer. I want to finally fuck, to have his cock inside of me, and I want him to make me his. Maybe, it’ll also help knock something loose inside his skull, so he really sees I don’t think he’s the horrible human being he’s painted himself to be.
“I don’t think you understand—” he starts, but I cut him off. Leaning back, I press my finger against his lips, abruptly shutting him up. I give him the same stern look I give my students when they do something that’s against the rules.
“No, I don’t think you understand, Jeremiah. That was years ago. Ages and ages. You were a hurt teen, trying to survive in a home that felt like a war zone if you didn’t meet every singleexpectation laid out before you. Was it right? No. But you also fought to overcome that and become a better person.”
He opens his mouth, his warm breath fanning my finger, but he abruptly shuts it again when I shoot him a look to keep it shut. “We can talk about this more later if you want,” I concede. “But what I want right now is for you to believe me. I don’t want you questioning what I’m saying or what I want. I’m a woman who never does anything she doesn’t want to. And you? I want you. In all the ways.”
His eyes darken at my words, and his fingers clamp onto my hips hard enough to bruise. Ilikethe suddenly possessive way he holds me. And the way he looks at me… It feels like he wants to devour me. And I want that. I want thatsobad.
“You do?” he rasps, his voice thick with need. I feel the steel rod of his cock pressing against me, and I rock my hips just to show him how much I want him, too.
“I do,” I promise. “Now, less talking. More fucking.”
His grin is positively feral, and it makes me shiver. My nipples pebble behind my bra, and I practically soak my panties.
“Say less.” Then he stands, his hands gripping my ass, and hastens for his bedroom. When his lips meet mine, the kiss is hot and possessive and everything I’ve wanted from him since we started this whole stupid fake-dating thing.
Maybe, after tonight, we can go from fake to real. Because Jeremiah Graley is everything I could ever hope for.
