Read Online A Season of Eden by Jennifer Laurens - Free Book Online Page B

slot with the other teachers slots, built into one of the walls.
     
    I didn’t want to go home. I wouldn’t see Brielle, bent as she was on luring Matt. Walking the hall alone, I thought about how uptight Mr. Christian had looked when I’d made those comments about helping him. I wanted to be his TA, absolutely.
     
    But I wanted more than that.
     
    I could admit that I’d intended innuendo. But I’d meant to shut those girls up, not anger Mr. Christian. Panic caused me to break out in a sweat.
     
    What had I done?
     
    He’d said he wanted to talk. Now would be just as good a time as any, so I headed to his classroom.
     
    The door was ajar and I went in. The room was empty, but I heard noise coming from the closet. Setting my bag on a chair, I straightened my clothes and approached.
     
    “Hello?” I called out.
     
    He came through the open door. We stared at each other. The room seemed to shrink.
     

     
    “I came by to talk to you,” I said. “About what happened earlier?”
     
    He glanced at his watch. “I have a faculty meeting in five minutes.”
     
    “Oh. It’s no biggie.” I headed to my bag, keeping my back to him so he couldn’t see I was disappointed we weren’t going to talk about what had happened and settle things.
     
    “It is a biggie.” He came up behind me. I smelled him, felt him. My eyes closed involuntarily. “Eden.”
     
    When he said my name, his music echoed through my head. I saw the inside of a dark, cavernous cathedral.
     
    Brilliant stained glass pictures. Ivory marble statues.
     
    “What?” I didn’t turn around.
     
    He cleared his throat. “I’ve got this meeting so now’s not a good time. But—”
     
    “It really isn’t a big deal.”
     
    “Maybe it isn’t.” He didn’t sound convinced. He moved around so I would have to look at him. The tentative look in his eyes made me feel bad.
     
    “I really didn’t mean to say something that might sound… you know…” Though I had intentionally said those things to sound nicely ambiguous, the genuineness I saw in his face made me sorry I had taken that liberty.
     
    “I appreciate that.” When he lowered his head, I had the sudden urge to run my hand along the top of it, like a mother would to a troubled child. I picked up my bag instead. His eyes met mine again. “I’m your teacher, Eden. I can be your friend, but I’m your teacher first.”
     
    I nodded, my stomach jumbling. What was he telling me? To back off? Had he read my thoughts? I was mortified that my actions had given my private fantasies life. I backed slowly toward the door.
     
    For a moment, he just watched me. Then he grabbed his coat and slung it over his arm and came toward me. He opened the door and held it while I passed by him. I stole another deep breath and filled myself with his scent before the cold, afternoon air hanging in the halls outside chilled me.
     
    He locked the classroom and we started down the corridor in silence. I was a muddle of hurt, confusion and frustration. He was unlike anyone I’d ever known. When he spoke to us about music, I felt the love and passion he had as if he held me in his arms and passed that love and passion to me through an embrace. His voice lifted my spirit. His face… I glanced at him as we walked side by side.
     
    He looked like one of those beautiful, marble statues you might find in a museum or somewhere in a dark corner of a church.
     
    “Are you religious?” I asked.
     
    His eyes were clear as a stream, and rippled into a smile. “That’s an introspective question. What makes you ask it?”
     
    “Something about you… you kind of look it.”
     
    His hearty laugh swirled through the empty hall before filling me. “How does one look religious?”
     
    “I don’t know. You just remind me of a marble statue I might see at church.”
     
    “Marble? That hardly invokes feelings of warmth and invitation.”
     
    “I mean, you look like one of those statues.”
     
    “Do