Lindsay's Crush

"This has probably been the worst week of my life!” Lindsay exclaimed. She was standing in the teacher’s parking lot, the cold rain pasting her shirt and skirt to her body. She had missed the bus, and now faced a two-mile walk home in a downpour. “Figures,” she mumbled under her breath. She stood there making a mental list of all the things that had gone wrong this week.

The eighteen year old was most assuredly having a bad week. On Monday, her father had been in a car accident. He was okay except for a broken leg, which prevented him from going to work, but the family car was a total loss. Tuesday she had broken her favorite bra in gym, and the whole class had laughed at her and called her a fat ass. By Wednesday it seemed like the whole school knew what had happened, and people Lindsay didn’t even know were poking fun at her. Yesterday night she had received twelve prank calls, and then had to explain the whole situation to her mother. Today, Friday, she had spent most of the day trying to hide from everyone.

Lindsay was by no means a normal sized girl, but she wasn’t fat, either. She possessed a very womanly body for her young age. Her breasts were a d cup, and her hips flared out from her waist. The only thing that marked her as young was her childlike face. Despite the attributes, she had no boyfriend; she didn’t even have any close friends. Lindsay knew the other students thought her strange. She was a straight A student, her nose was perpetually in a book, and her large glasses took up half her face. She never wore makeup, and her straight waist length auburn hair was always hanging freely. Lindsay also loved to wear long flowing skirts with chunky black boots. It was how she felt most comfortable, but she was endlessly teased for her ‘odd’ fashion sense. She didn’t fit into any group. She spent her weekends reading Shakespeare, going to see plays, or touring the art museum while her peers were drinking, partying, and having sex. Lindsay had never had sex, she had never even been kissed, but she thought about it plenty; she was a teenager, after all. She even had a crush. It wasn’t on the quarterback of the football team or the pitcher for the baseball team; it was on her teacher, Mr. Smith.

Mr. Smith was twenty-eight, six foot two, with a very athletic body, long dark hair, and soulful brown eyes. He was a student at this school the same time as Lindsay’s older sister Lisa, and Lisa had told Lindsay that he was a model and the lead singer of a rock band shortly after high school. But now, he was a teacher, a substitute. He had been teaching Lindsay’s 20th Century Authors class for a week now, and he was going to be here for at least another two; the regular teacher had to take family leave to care for her husband after his bypass surgery.

Lindsay had heard all the girls talking about how hot Mr. Smith was, but she had never seen him before this week. When Lindsay had walked into class on Monday, she at first had not realized who he was. He did not look like a teacher and he certainly didn’t dress like one. He had been wearing all black; leather jacket, jeans, tight shirt, boots, and his hair pulled back in a ponytail. Then he had introduced himself with his smooth deep voice and Lindsay finally understood what all the girls had been whispering about. He was absolutely gorgeous, and from that day on, she had not been able to concentrate on anything but him.

She had even started writing all kinds of sexy letters for him in her black notebook when she should have been paying attention. She had never done any of the things she wrote about, but she had read and seen plenty of love scenes in her books and plays and movies, and she had a very good imagination. She had started another letter today about halfway through class, telling Mr. Smith how much she’d like to straddle his lap and run her tongue over his neck and chest while he fondled her breasts. Then she had described lovingly sucking on his cock, and while she wrote she had felt that warm familiar stirring between her legs. She wanted so much to taste him in her mouth; wanted him to explode inside her. She had been so wrapped up in writing the letter that she hadn’t even noticed class was about to end. When the bell rang, she had lagged behind trying to pack all her books into her bag. Mr. Smith had looked amazing, as usual, in black, as usual. He stopped her on her way to the door to tell her how nice she looked today. She was wearing her usual long skirt, a black one with blue flowers, a black long sleeved shirt, and her boots. Lindsay almost dropped her things in her rush to get out of the room before he saw how red her face was. She had been lost in thought about his comment and the letter she was writing on her way to her locker, and by the time she got the books she needed for homework and went outside, the busses had already gone. So now here she stood, soaking wet.

Lindsay was leaning against a car, trying to ignore the cold rain and dreading the walk home, when suddenly the car had started. She jumped away from it, and then saw the passenger side window roll down. It was Mr. Smith.

“Hey, Lindsay! What are you doing standing out there? It’s freezing.”

“Oh uh hi, Mr. Smith. I missed my bus.”

“Well do you need a ride?” He was leaning over the passenger’s seat to talk to her, and was looking right in her eyes. Lindsay got lost in his gaze. “Lindsay?”

“Huh?”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Oh…if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you.”

“No, no trouble at all. Hop in.” He opened the door for her and sat up.

“I’m going to get your seat all wet.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lindsay. You’re going to get a cold if you keep standing there.”

“Okay.”

Lindsay got in and closed the door. Mr. Smith turned the heater up full blast and adjusted the vents until they were blowing directly on her. Her teeth finally stopped chattering long enough for her to mumble a thank you as they pulled out of the parking lot. They drove up the street and stopped at a red light.

“Hey Lindsay, could I ask you a somewhat odd favor?”

“Sure.”

“My wife’s been out of town for a week and I hate to admit it but I am hopeless when it comes to housekeeping. If I paid you for your time, do you think you could come over to my place and help me out?”

Lindsay froze. This must be some kind of dream, she thought. I can’t have just heard what I think I heard.

“I know it’s a strange request…I probably shouldn’t even be asking you something like that. You probably have plans on a Friday night, anyway. You can say no if you want.” Lindsay looked over at him and he was looking at her. She looked into his pleading eyes.

“No, it’s okay that you asked. And I don’t have any plans. I would love to come and help you.”

“That’s great! Thanks, Lindsay I really appreciate this. You can call home from my place and let your parents know where you are.”

Just then the driver behind them blew their horn. Lindsay looked towards the stoplight; it had turned green. Mr. Smith waved towards the car behind them and turned left.

All the way to his house, Lindsay was absolutely lost. Her brain didn’t seem to want to function. She tried to answer the questions he was asking about school, friends, family, but she would fall silent after only answering with a yes or no. He was trying hard to have a conversation, but her mind kept drifting. She felt as if this couldn’t possibly be happening, like she was watching one of her plays. She couldn’t even bring herself to look in his direction; it was just too much. Instead, she turned her attention to the rain falling outside the car. Eventually, he clicked the remote on his visor and drove into the garage of a small but nice house. He turned off the motor and clicked the remote again to close the garage door.

“You’re awfully quiet, Lindsay. Are you okay?”

“Yea. Yes, I’m fine.” She opened her car door and got out. He followed suit and then opened the door and led her inside.

What she saw in those first few seconds deflated the crazy intimate thoughts she had been having of his hands all over her naked body. The sink was absolutely full of dishes, there was a very large pile of clothes in front of the washer, and take-out containers were overflowing the trashcan.

“The phone is right there if you need to call home. I am going to change clothes and see if I can find you anything to wear while your clothes dry.”

“Okay.” Lindsay sighed heavily as she dialed her home number. Her brother answered the phone and she asked him to tell their mother that she was studying with a friend for a few hours. Her mother never worried about her, anyway. She hung up the phone and rested her head on the wall. “What the hell was I thinking, that he actually liked me? God, I’m an idiot.” She turned from the wall to find Mr. Smith standing there, a towel in his hand.

“I uh, brought this for your hair.”

Oh, my God! She thought. He just heard that! Lindsay was absolutely mortified. She looked down at her wet shoes and felt like crying.

“Lindsay?” He walked up to her, until she could see his shoes right in front of hers. She didn’t look up. “Lindsay, please look at me.”

Lindsay just shook her head no. Mr. Smith reached out and touched her chin, raising her face to him.

“Lindsay, I feel like I should tell you the truth. My wife isn’t out of town. She and I have been separated for a few months now, and today I got word that she filed for divorce. I asked you to come here not to help me clean, I asked you to come here because I am lonely and upset, and I didn’t want to be alone tonight. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you in the first place. But I do like you, Lindsay. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have made up this stupid story. Please don’t be upset.” His fingers still under her chin, Lindsay looked up at him. He looked as if he wanted to cry as well. Lindsay’s heart was close to bursting to see him so upset.

“Oh Mr. Smith, I’m so sorry about your wife.” He dropped his hand to his side, and as she watched, a tear rolled down his cheek. “Oh God, please don’t cry!” Lindsay didn’t think twice, she just threw herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing his head down to her shoulder. His arms slowly enveloped her waist until he was holding her very close and tight. He buried his head in her hair, and quietly sobbed.

Lindsay murmured words of sympathy and consolation as his body shook in her embrace. She smoothed his hair with one hand and rubbed at his back with the other. His knees gave and they both lowered to the floor, their arms still wrapped around each other. She sat there, his head in her lap, and cooed to him as if he were a child crying from a skinned knee. She didn’t look on him with pity; she didn’t think less of him for crying. In fact, as they sat on the cold kitchen floor and she watched him lose all composure, her heart swelled with something she’d never thought she’d get to feel; love. She really loved him, this man she hardly knew, this man who two days ago was just a teacher.

And then, it was like a pinprick. This man is crying over his wife leaving him. This man looks at me like a student, not a lover. This man is just having a very hard time in his life right now, and it could be anyone sitting here with him. This man, this beautiful man, will never love me. I am just a child to him. Lindsay couldn’t help it; she began to cry, too.

Mr. Smith looked up at her, then. The tears were still shimmering in his eyes, but a look of concern had replaced the one of despair. “Lindsay, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I-I’m sorry.”

“No, what is it?” He got up on his knees and took her hands in his.

“It’s just-- I-I just feel so bad for you is all.” Lindsay tried hard to stop the tears.

“Oh Lindsay, please don’t cry. Please, it’s okay, really. Please don’t cry for me. I’m just glad you’re here, I’m sorry I lost it.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s okay for you to cry, you have every right to. Look, let’s just get up from here and I’ll help you get your house in order.” Lindsay wiped her eyes and stood up. “You can’t help but be depressed in this mess…no offense.”

“None taken. And actually, you’re probably right.”

And so they got to work. Mr. Smith changed into a white t-shirt and regular blue jeans. Lindsay thought it funny that he did, in fact, own clothes that weren’t black. He also got Lindsay some of his sweats to put on and then took the trash out while she loaded the dishwasher and began sorting his laundry. He stood in the doorway and chatted with her about her favorite pieces in the museum and the last play she had seen. She told him about the latest book she was reading and he told her about a song he was writing. Lindsay told him she loved to sing, but she never got picked for solos in choir. He told her that if she wanted, he would listen to her sing something and give her an honest opinion on her voice. She also told him about her writing.

“I noticed you writing in class, in that black notebook. Think I could read some of that?”

Lindsay’s face flushed. “Oh, uh…I don’t think you’d like any of that.”

“You might be surprised.” He winked at her. Lindsay shook her head and looked away from him. What does he mean by that? She wondered.

Eventually, she had sorted out his entire house. While the third load of clothes was washing, the sun began to set. By the time all the laundry was finished, it was dark. Lindsay and Mr. Smith had spent the whole time talking, comparing favorite authors and musicians, chatting about art and religion and politics not as teacher and student, but as old friends. Right in the middle of discussing his opinion on the current dealings in Congress, his stomach growled.

“Hey Lindsay, would you be willing to stay for dinner? I was going to get some Chinese.”

“Sure, that’d be great. Are you sure you want me to stay?”

“Well yea, otherwise I wouldn’t be asking.”

“Okay, well I should probably call home again.”

“You know where the phone is. Just hurry, I’m starving.”

Lindsay went back into the kitchen and dialed home for the second time today. Her mother answered this time. “Hi Mom, it’s me.”

“Hey Lindsay, how’s the studying going?”

“Oh it’s going really great. We’re actually working on a project for biology. I was calling to see if it was okay if I stayed for dinner. This project is due on Monday, so we really need some crunch time.”

“Well sure, honey, that’s fine with me. If you need to, and it’s alright with your friend’s parents, you have my permission to stay the night.”

Lindsay smiled suddenly at the thought of that. “Thanks, Mom. I’m not sure if we’re going to need that much time.”

“Well if I don’t hear from you I’ll just assume that’s what your doing.”

“Okay.”

“And honey?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Honey I…I’m glad you’ve made a friend.”

“Me too, Mom, me too. I’ll talk to you later, and thanks.”

“Okay honey, have fun.”

They ordered way too much food from the best place in town. He suggested to Lindsay that if she wanted to, she could freshen up in his bathroom while they waited. She went in and brushed her hair, washed her face, and put her freshly laundered clothes back on. She took a good long look at herself in the mirror, then finally shrugged and returned to the kitchen.

Mr. Smith had set the table in her absence. The food had arrived, and he had laid out two beautiful settings, with wine glasses and ivory chopsticks. Lindsay was dazzled.

“I thought we could have a nice dinner together. I haven’t used any of this in months.”

Lindsay smiled and looked into his eyes. “Sure, this looks beautiful.”

“Do you know how to use chopsticks?”

“I sure do. My father taught me. He was stationed in Japan when he was in the army…I guess you didn’t need to know all that.”

Mr. Smith laughed. “That’s okay. I think that’s pretty cool. I don’t know many teenagers in this country who can use them. What would you like to drink? I’m going to have wine, myself, but I have soda if you want.”

“I don’t really drink, but the wine sounds lovely. I’m still a bit chilly from the rain. Plus, I’d hate for you to drink alone.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he said with a smile.

Everything was delicious, especially the wine. Lindsay found herself pleasantly lightheaded after her second glass. The conversation was flowing just as much as the alcohol, and eventually the topic of conversation turned to relationships. Mr. Smith found it impossible to believe that Lindsay had never had a boyfriend.

“It’s not so impossible, Mr. Smith.”

“Lindsay, could you please call me Rick? I hate the whole ‘Mr. Smith’ thing. A girl like you never having a boyfriend…you’re pulling my leg.”

“No, it’s true…Rick. All the guys my age just don’t like me.”

“They’re probably intimidated by you.”

“Ha! Yea, right.”

“No really. You’re smart, beautiful, and mature. Guys your age don’t appreciate all of that. I know I didn’t when I was a teenager.”

He thinks I’m beautiful! Lindsay thought to herself, and felt herself blushing. She looked down at her empty wineglass and said, “I’m not beautiful. Most people think I’m fat.”

Rick filled her wineglass and took her hand. “Lindsay, look at me.” She studied him, so beautiful in the candlelight, his eyes, with an inscrutable look, searched hers. “Lindsay…you are by no means fat,” he began. “You have a very developed body compared to any of the other girls in your class. And I’m sure they pick on you because they feel inferior to you.”

His hand feels so nice, Lindsay thought. She took a long swallow of wine, never taking her eyes off him. She emptied her wineglass for a third time.

“Like the wine?” He said with a smile and squeezed her hand.

“Yes, it was lovely.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” he replied. Rick was just sitting, stroking her fingers with his thumb as if he’d done it a thousand times before. He was still looking directly at her, the smile fading from his lips. “I want to read your black notebook.”

Lindsay was caught off-guard by his comment. “Why do you want to read it so badly?”

“I just do.”

The wine gave Lindsay more courage than she thought, because she found herself getting up and grabbing her bag. She came back to the table with it and intended to give him the notebook, but after a thorough search she found, to her horror, that the notebook was missing. She thought back to the last time she’d seen it today, and recalled the letter she had been writing when the bell rang. She tried hard to remember putting it in her bag and found herself getting frantic. She looked up from her bag to find Rick holding her black notebook in his hands. “Oh…my God.”

"You were in such a hurry to leave class today. You left this inside your desk. I watched you writing in it today, and you seemed so wrapped up in it…I just wanted to see what could hold your attention that well.”

“You…you READ IT?” Lindsay didn’t mean to shout, but she was so embarrassed that she couldn’t help it. She was wishing desperately for the floor to swallow her.

“Yes, I read it. I…am so very sorry. I picked it up on the way to my car and got so involved with it that I sat and read it. And when I looked up, you were standing right there. At first I thought you had seen me with it and had come to get it back, but then you had just looked so sad…are you angry with me?”

“No. No, I’m not angry. I just wish there was a rock I could crawl under right now.”

“Why, Lindsay? The things you wrote…they were beautiful. You shouldn’t be ashamed of them.”

“But you were never meant to read them! No one was. They were just my private thoughts. And I am ashamed. You are just my teacher…I barely know you, you’d never want…I mean…God, I want to die.”

“Never want what, Lindsay?”

Her eyes began to tear. “Me! You’d never want me. You’re so beautiful and smart and charming and me…I’m just…me. You’re so out of my league it isn’t funny, and I’m just a kid to you, anyway. Oh, God!” Lindsay collapsed into her chair and began to cry.