Page 53 of John Wilder Gets Schooled
“That’s because you teach five-year-olds,” he said wryly. “They don’t stay that cute. The point is, school can’t be your whole life. You need to maintain those boundaries for your own mental health, or it sucks you in like a black hole and within a couple of years you’ll turn into one of those bitter asshole teachers who hate everything. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.”
I chewed on my thumbnail for a moment.
“How much work did you bring home to do this weekend?” he asked me.
I gave a guilty jolt. “Not much! My lesson plans for the week. And I have to write my class newsletter. And I told Dana I’d help her start planning this year’s school concert. Do you know anything about choreography?”
“Avery.”
“Oh, yeah. How hard can it be to teach seventeen five-year-olds how to dance anyway, right?” I took a sip of my beer. “I just want to be the best teacher I can.”
“I get that,” Dallas said. “But you can’t be that guy if you’reburning out, you know? You have to learn how to say no.” He waited until I’d hummed my agreement before he said, “So how are things going with your worst parent?”
“Who?” For a second I had no idea who he was talking about.
“Your eternally late single dad neighbor?”
Oh.I realized I hadn’t updated Dallas on that front.
“He turned out to be okay,” I said. “He just needed some time to adjust. But he’s great now.”
“Great, huh? That’s quite the turnaround. What did he do, buy you booze?”
“No, he’s…” I thought of the way Wilder wrapped himself around me in his sleep, hungry for touch, and how open and eager he was once he got past those initial shy-boy nerves, and how he trusted me to take the lead every single time. “He’s great,” I repeated faintly.
Dallas hummed. “Are you doing okay living on your own, Avery? Real talk. Because I know how you get in your own head.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s just been a long couple of weeks.”
“Promise me you’ll relax this weekend, okay?” Dallas said, and the way he said it, bossy and affectionate all at once, he reminded me of our dad.
“I promise,” I said, thinking of my plans to fool around with Wilder later. If that didn’t relax me, nothing would.
Dallas was silent for a long moment before he said, “Okay. Talk to you soon.”
We said our goodbyes and I ended the call. I always felt better after talking to Dallas. I wondered if I’d feel better if I told him about Wilder and immediately rejected the idea. I could just imagine the lecture I’d get. Hadn’t he just reinforced the need for boundaries? Although to be fair, he’d also said I needed to have a life outside the classroom, and teaching five-year-olds hadnothingin common with guiding Wilder through his first gay sexual experiences.
Okay, fine, apart from giving him a gold star.
I wondered what he’d suggest tonight. Whatever it was, Iusually said yes without making a big deal about it, just so Wilder knew it was fine to explore different things. To be honest, I was hoping he’d finally worked up the nerve to ask for a blow job. I’d seen him looking at my dick and licking his lips, and I sure as hell wanted to get my mouth on him if he’d let me. But I’d said all along that he could set the pace, and I wasn’t going to pressure him.
I finished my beer, then went inside. I did some work on my lesson plans before stopping for dinner, then started putting together the class newsletter as a way to fill in time before Wilder came over. I got so involved in what I was doing that the knock at the door had me jerking upright in my chair.
I hurried to the door and opened it, and Wilder gave me his usual grin, but it was strained around the edges and his brow was creased. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I echoed, stepping aside to let him in and closing the door. “Did you want a beer?”
Usually he said no, preferring me to lead him straight to bed. Tonight, though, he said, “Yeah.”
I went and grabbed a couple of beers from the kitchen, and we settled on the couch. Wilder took his with a soft, “Thanks,” before stifling a yawn. He caught me watching and gave me a rueful smile. “Sorry. Had an early start and Steve insisted that we get this job done today, so I worked my ass off.”
“Hey, if you’re too tired, we don’t have to do anything tonight. We can find another time.”
Wilder raised one eyebrow at me. “Who said I was too tired? Been thinking about this—aboutyou—all day.”
“Yeah?” I couldn’t keep the pleased smile off my face. “What exactly were you thinking about?”
His cheeks flushed pink, and a lock of blond hair fell forward as he examined the back of his hand intently and said in a low voice, “Blow jobs?”
