Bad for You by Weston Parker
2
BRITTANY
Iheld back a sigh as I listened to Beckett going over our schedule for the week. This dinner felt more like a staff meeting than a date. That’s what you get for dating the principal at the school where you work, I guess.
Beckett James was a good principal, but not such a great boyfriend. His dark eyes were serious on mine, his brown hair slicked back in an attempt to hide the gray strands weaved in between his thinning locks.
As I stared at him from across the table, I tried to remember what had attracted me to him in the first place. We hadn’t been dating for long, but whatever spark there might’ve been was already gone.
He wasn’t a bad guy. I just didn’t think he was the one. Then again, I’d already cut loose the only man I’d ever thought might be the elusive one. Since he hadn’t come back to me, I supposed I’d better take the advice of that nineties singer and accept I’d loved something, let it go, and that was how I was supposed to have known whether it had really ever been mine in the first place.
Whether he had ever really been mine. He hadn’t been. Simple as that. Which was why, so many years later, I was still on the hunt for a man who would make me feel even half the things Tristin had.
It wasn’t going well for me. Obviously.
On the other hand, Beckett had probably been pretty cool himself at eighteen. Maybe I would’ve felt that way about him now if it had been him I’d fallen in love with right out of the gates.
But hearts were stupid things that way. Regardless of how many times I’d told myself that my memories of what I’d had with Tristin were overexaggerated, I just couldn’t seem to get the silly organ to agree with me.
While I hadn’t dated all that much since breaking up with Tristin, I was an eternal optimist when it came to romance. I wanted it all. The big white wedding, the cute, chubby-cheeked babies, and the happily ever after with the man of my dreams. I refused to believe that I’d lost my chance of having all that at eighteen.
There was just no way that could be possible. Teenagers were even stupider than hearts, and teenage hearts? Those were the most idiotic things on the planet. They were ruled by hormones and angst caused by things I couldn’t even remember.
Man, am I glad I’m done with that phase. Godspeed to all the poor teenaged souls out there who still need to get through it. In any event, Tristin couldn’t have been my one and only chance at true love. It was probably only because he’d been my first love that he’d become the yardstick.
Beckett cleared his throat and frowned deeply at me, looking like he was about to scold me for drifting off in class. “Brittany? Are you listening to me? I said we need to discuss the details of the fundraiser for the school’s new library.”
I nodded, perking up even though a part of me still expected him to give me detention for zoning out. Oooo, detention could be fun if—
I stopped that thought in its tracks. Sex with Beckett was mediocre at best, and he definitely wouldn’t be into doing something adventurous like going at it at school.
“I’m looking forward to it,” I said instead of proposing what had just crossed my mind. It was a school night anyway. Even if I could somehow convince him to give it a try, sex was off the table completely for this date.
Every time I’d tried to change his mind, he’d looked at me like I was an alien and reminded me that we had to be up early. Ah, well. Those are the breaks.
He wasn’t wrong about us having to wake up early. A stern expression crossed his features. “I’m counting on you and all the other teaching staff to contribute something to the auction.”
“Oh, I already am,” I said, grinning at the thought of it. “I’m donating a special cake I’m baking. It’s taken me years to perfect the recipe, and everyone always seems to like it.”
His less than thrilled expression crushed my excitement on the spot. “I’m sure the cake will fetch a couple of bucks, but I hope other people donate more high-ticket items. You know, ones that will actually help with the renovation of the library.”
I stared at him. Wow, condescending much?
As it was, I was stretching my budget to allow for some of the more decadent ingredients I needed for the cake. He, of all people, should know that none us teaching staff could afford to donate diamonds or trips to Paris. Or whatever else he has in mind for those high-ticket items.
My disappointment lingered for the rest of the dinner. No matter what I did, I just couldn’t shake it.
“I’m sure there will be many wonderful donations,” I said, my tone appeasing.
Sometimes I hated myself for kowtowing around him, but in this moment, he didn’t feel much like my boyfriend. He was very much in principal mode, and I loved my job. I wouldn’t jeopardize it by pissing him off over something like this.
Seemingly satisfied with my answer, he nodded and speared a piece of asparagus with his fork. I glanced down at my own bundle of asparagus and gingerly took a bite.
Beckett always made reservations at the same higher-end restaurant in one of the nicer areas of town. I didn’t mind asparagus, but a grilled chicken breast and grilled vegetables for every date was getting to me.
I was a deep-fried girl. A hamburger and fries girl. All the simple things really. During the week, I tried to eat healthily, but dear Lord, it wouldn’t have killed them to put just one item on the menu that required butter or real oil to make—none of this coconut oil stuff really did the trick for me.
Enough internal whining, I ordered myself. I’d agreed to this date and just because he’d been an ass about my cake and acted like this was a meeting didn’t mean I couldn’t make an effort.
“Did you see there’s a trivia night at the Irish Pub next week?” I asked, referencing a place my best friend and I loved grabbing a drink at over the weekends.
Beckett flashed me that signature frown of his again. “No, but I hardly think it’s appropriate for us to attend. We can’t be seen gallivanting about town like children, Brittany. We’re professionals, and we need to embody the school’s ethos in everything we do.”
“I didn’t say anything about gallivanting. It’s just a trivia night. We could make up a team and have a bit of fun. It could be nice, and it doesn’t have to get rowdy.”
His lips compressed into a thin line. “The answer is no. If it got out that elementary school staff were seen drinking at a pub, it would be very bad for the school’s reputation.”
“I hate to break it to you, Beck, but—”
“Beckett,” he corrected me instantly. “My given name is Beckett. Not some cheapened, shortened version of it.”
“Right.” I didn’t roll my eyes. I’d made that mistake before, and sitting through the lecture it always sparked just wasn’t worth it. “Anyway, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not like the media follow us around. No one really cares what we do on our own time as long we don’t get into trouble.”
“Preposterous.” He snorted, shaking his head at me like I was an unruly child. “The media might not hound us, but the community certainly watches us.”
“The Irish Pub isn’t even in our school’s district,” I said, not arguing but merely pointing out a fact. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, though. I understand. Shelley and I will find someone to take your spot on the team.”
“Shelley might be your friend, but she’s also a member of my staff. As are you. I don’t need to remind you of the standards at which I hold my staff, do I?”
“Nope, I’m all good.” I forced a smile. “You have nothing to worry about. It’ll just be a quiet trivia night. The community won’t even know we were there.”
Not that they’d care, but hey. If I knew Beckett, and I did, he’d spend the rest of the night droning on about it given the opportunity.
He gave me a tight nod, clearly not happy but also smart enough not to think that he could prohibit me from going. “It’s getting late. Finish your dinner. I’d better get you home.”
“Of course.” I sneaked a peek at my watch.
It was barely eight o’clock, but he’d be in bed by nine. Deciding to follow his example and stick to topics usually covered in meetings, I steered the conversation back to the charity event we’d be hosting this weekend.
“About the fundraiser, a few of the children in my class have offered to perform a little skit. We could practice this week and—”
He interrupted me again. “Absolutely not. It would be tacky to subject our donors to a performance from children.”
“We’re an elementary school,” I said slowly. “I think our donors are likely expecting there to be children involved.”
“I’ve arranged for a performance from the orchestra at the theater over on Main. That should suffice.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely.” The orchestra was great, but I was the one who was going to have to dash the hopes of the kids who’d wanted to perform.
There were quite a few of them, actually. Across all the different grades. They wanted to do their bit for the fundraiser, but I’d have to make sure we got them involved in some other way.
Beckett and I finished our meals mostly in silence, split the check, and then he drove me home. When we pulled up in front of my house, he gave me a kiss that left me feeling thoroughly underwhelmed and eased back onto the street before I’d even made it to my front door.
I’d been thinking for a few weeks that it was time to end our relationship, but I’d held off because I didn’t want to bolt before I’d given it a proper chance. All the men I’d dated had left me feeling equally underwhelmed, if I was being honest with myself.
All except one. Tristin Ramsey. The boy no one could measure up to. The boy I’d been forced to end things with fifteen long years ago.
It was crazy that I still thought about him every time I got to this stage of a relationship. The stage when I realized that it would be better to part ways.
Maybe all these crappy relationships I find myself in are payback for the way I broke up with Tristin.Some kind of karma for past wrongs.
Not for the first time, I regretted breaking his heart and my own right along with it. It didn’t matter that I’d been forced to do it. I still hated myself for having done it.
After taking a shower and brushing my teeth, I sank into bed and turned out my bedside lamp with my thoughts still on him. I lay back and burrowed in under my comforter, and when I closed my eyes, I saw his face with perfect clarity in my mind.
No matter how many years it had been, I remembered every single thing about that face. From the way his dark colored hair used to frame his handsome features to the way his eyes would light up whenever he saw me, all the way to the flush that would spread across his high, chiseled cheekbones whenever he got turned on.
I hadn’t forgotten anything about him, and I didn’t think I ever would. Not when I cherished the memories we’d made together with everything in me. Often when I lay in bed at night, just like tonight, I wondered what it would be like to get a second chance with him.
It was impossible, but my romantic little heart still wondered. I couldn’t help it, and as I drifted off to sleep, I dreamed about what things might have been like if I’d never buckled under the pressure of leaving him at all.
