Page 47 of Love is Strange
I swallow hard, my chest becoming heavy with the weight of his words. Standing tall, I shake my head and scold him. “If you’re going to be in my class, Ryan, you will respect me.” I tell him. “Excuse me, I have to open the door for the other students.”
Stepping around him, I walk toward the door and attempt to steady my heart rate that seems to have quickened. His words were forceful, hitting all the wrong spots and making me feel so many things I shouldn’t toward a student. Mostly anger, because his is so damn disrespectful. But deep down in the pit of my stomach, those same words that piss me off, conjure up a familiar burn that only my husband has been able to stir up. That’s right—I said husband. As in married. As in a teenager should not be able to make me feel things myHUSBANDmakes me feel.
The cold air from the hallway swarms me as I open the door just as the bell rings. Students fill the hall as they head to their next class. My focus for the day will be to help Maria with her stance and Kira with her plié. Everyone else has their own routines to practice for the winter’s formal performance. My seniors have worked hard for this formal and I know they are going to kill it when the time comes.
“I like this black leotard on you.” Ryan says from behind me, his chest brushing against my back.
“I will give you one more—HEY!” I spin around and slap his hand away when I feel it grab my lower thigh, right under my butt cheek. “Are you trying to get kicked out here? You’ve been here all of two days!”
“Eh, if it happens, it happens. But for the time being, my sights are set on something better than being tossed out on my ass like the trash I am.”
His last remark makes my heart sting, but when he smirks, that stings turns sour and I scowl at him. “Get in there, change into whatever clothes you brought—if you brought any—and sit down. Wait for my instructions. And do not touch me again.”
His laugh resonates through the empty room and vibrates me to my core. I try to keep the scowl on my face, but I find it hard with him looking at me the way he is. He has dimples. And light brown eyes like Brandy, so intoxicating I could get drunk off them with a simple stolen glance. Shaking my head, I move by him quickly and mentally kick myself for taking him in like that. I am his superior, I should not do things like that.
Soon after the bell rings, the once empty dance hall has my sixteen students inside, plus Ryan who is sitting in the same spot he was yesterday listening to music. I will leave him be for today, seeing how he has already gotten himself into deep shit with me from the encounter earlier.
Just get though today, I think to myself,just get through the day.
F O U R
The aromaof dinner hits my nose the second I walk into my home. One of the many amazing qualities my husband has is he can cook. He owns one of the biggest restaurants in town and is working with a few people on possibly franchising.
I met my husband in high school when I was fifteen and he was seventeen. We’ve been together ever since. High school sweethearts if you will, that old cliché. I love him, though, cliché or not. We have been through many ups and many downs, but we always seem to find the one we feel in love with, no matter how we evolve over the years.
“Hey, babe. You’re home early!” He says when he sees me, then turns around quickly toward the stove.
“Yeah, I didn’t stay after today. What are you doing?” I ask him, trying to peek around him. He brushes me off, laughing at my poor attempt to see around his tall frame.
“You’ll see after dinner.” He says, using his butt to push me back, “Go clean up so we can eat.”
I use my foot to kick him on the backside before I turn around and walk toward our bedroom. My fingers glide against the beige painted walls, my feet crush against the beige carpet and for the life of me, I can’t remember when I started to hate this color. Right this second, though, I’m not very fond of it.Maybe I’ll paint it this weekend,I think to myself as I begin to strip out of my black leotard.
“I like this black leotard on you.”
His words cross my mind, but just as quickly fade as I push them out. How is that, even at home, he can get under my skin? That boy is nothing but trouble, but it’s not in my nature to turn away someone who obviously has no one. Or so it seems—again, I could be way off about him because I’ve only been around him twice. And in those times, I’ve either berated him like a child or he was off in his own world with his headphones in, ignoring any and all human interaction.
“Emily?” Dan says, scaring me. “What are you doing? I’ve been calling you for ten minutes.”
“I—I’m sorry, I was distracted.” I tell him, stuffing my clothes into the hamper.
“You were smelling your leotard.” He says, scrunching his face.
“Was I?” I say, my voice going up an octave or two. “Is dinner finished?” I ask, changing the subject before I have to figure out how to answer whatever question he throws at me next. I hadn’t even realized I was smelling my clothes, and to be honest, I don’t know why I was. I’ve never done that before.
“Yeah, hurry up before it gets cold.” Dan says, then walks out of the room.
Quickly, I change into some pajamas before I head into the bathroom to brush my hair and wash my face. Maybe a little cold water will bring my nerves back down to plant earth.
Once I’m finished cleaning up for dinner, I head for the kitchen. My stomach begins to growl the closer I get—whatever he cooked is assaulting my nose. I can smell a hint of garlic and maybe basil. Over the years, I have learned quite a bit about spices, their smells, and what pairs well with what. One of the many perks of having a chef for a husband.
As I enter the kitchen, a loud pop meets my ears. Dan smiles brightly as wine mists up from the bottle he just opened.
“What’s going on?” I ask him curiously. The smile on his face is infectious, causing one of my own to spread across my face.
“I signed with Cobeck to franchise the restaurant today!” He says excitedly.
“Oh—oh my God! Dan! That’s amazing!” I screech before wrapping my arms around his neck. “I’m so proud of you!”
