How to Get Over Your Ex in Ninety Days Page 8

  Kaine gave me a gleaming smile. It only enhanced the package. “I could say the same thing, Presley.” He gave my hand an extra squeeze. I didn’t feel anything, per se, but it wasn’t revolting, so that was a start. I’m sure I blushed at the return compliment.

  Mr. Montgomery cleared his throat and thrust his hand out. “I’m Jackson Montgomery, vice principal.”

  The men sized each other up. It was a tough competition, I’ll tell you. One any woman would be happy to judge and get either man. Except me, because I was on my way to forgetting about one, and my plan cautioned against rebounds. But if Kaine had no current romantic entanglements, I would consider going the whole superficial route with him.

  “Nice to meet you.” Kaine gave Mr. Jackson a firm handshake.

  “We are off to make some measurements. Will you be joining us for fourth block?” Mr. Crandall asked me.

  “Most definitely.” I smiled at Kaine. I usually used my planning period, fourth block, to help out in the advanced class. They would be the group competing in the one act competition late in the fall.

  Mr. Crandall’s eyes gleamed with mischief. Was he trying to help me the way I was trying to help him? His lost love still hadn’t replied to me.

  “I was hoping to spend a few minutes with you during fourth block to discuss your evaluation, Ms. Benson,” Mr. Montgomery interrupted.

  “I’ll join you as soon as I can.” I ignored Mr. Montgomery and focused on my mentor.

  “We look forward to it.” Mr. Crandall waved.

  The bright spot in my day walked out the door. I turned toward Mr. Montgomery and some gloom crept in. The color in his face had all but disappeared. Did it bother him that I called another man attractive in his presence? Was he remembering how forward I was with him once upon a time, telling him how handsome I found him well before we started to date?

  He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Instead, he turned around and took a seat on the “casting” couch where we had won the part of being each other’s significant other. I never thought I would lose it to his ambition and father’s wishes.

  I did the only thing I could do. I went back to teaching my students, who were perceptive. Hannah was doing well on her stage whisper, since I heard every word, and I’m sure Mr. Montgomery did, too. “Is it true Ms. Benson and Mr. Montgomery used to date? I think he wanted to hit that hot guy Mr. Crandall brought in here.”

  Great. Now my students were gossiping about me.

  Maybe, just maybe, I would give them something to really gossip about.

  ~*~

  “Did he really warn you against Brad?” Capri whispered.

  I looked around the football stands to see who was near us before I answered. We sat up on the top bleacher. It was better to people watch and keep conversations private, but you could never be too careful. “Can you believe it? He had just got done telling me what a terrific teacher I was and how he hoped I would consider staying.”

  “Please don’t move back to Colorado.”

  “How can I stay?”

  “In sixty-five days, you’re going to be completely over him, so what difference will it make?” She was putting way too much faith in me.

  “It’s not that easy. Besides, I don’t want to see him moving on with someone else.”

  “You move on with someone else first. How about Mr. Crandall’s nephew?”

  I grinned. “He is delicious. I almost channeled my inner-Joey with a, ‘How you doin’?’,” I said, referencing the Friends character.

  She laughed. “You should have.”

  “I had already made an idiot out of myself when I told him how attractive he was.”

  She placed her hand over her heart. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Something in me kind of snapped. I wanted to make Mr. Montgomery feel insignificant, like he made me feel. It wasn’t one of my finer moments.”

  “Are you kidding me? He deserves it. And that’s why I may or may not have ‘accidentally’ tripped one of my students with a cup full of paint in their hands when he came to evaluate me.”

  It was hard to hide my smile. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Why? He loves the color red.”

  “You really are evil, but I adore you.”

  “Maybe I felt a little guilty for making my student feel bad about it, even though it wasn’t his fault. And I have to say, Jackson took it all in stride. He laughed about it and told Eli he’d buy him a Coke.”

  “Sounds like him. Why is it the only jerky thing he’s ever done is to me?”

  “I’m sure you’re not his only indiscretion?”

  “That makes me sound like his mistress or something.”

  She wagged her eyebrows. “You’re too good for that, and for him. He’s going to look back someday and wish he could take it all back.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “It’s obvious by the way he still looks at you, or when he looks up when your name is mentioned. It’s going to take him a lot longer than ninety days to get over you. Mark my words, sister.”

  Day Twenty-Six

  Saturday, August 21

  Dear Mr. Bingley,

  I survived another week of work. And I’m almost twenty-nine percent of the way to my goal. Can I picture my life without him yet? What choice do I have? Yesterday, when he warned me that Brad was a womanizer and that I wasn’t the only woman he had been making advances to, Mr. Montgomery said he just wanted me to know because he still “cared” about me. He doesn’t love me. Do I still love him? I do. But I wasn’t in denial. Sure, it’s hard to believe he isn’t part of my daily routine, and I’ve picked up the phone at least fifty times wanting to call him. Sometimes something hits me funny and I want to share it with him, and I’ve forgotten he doesn’t want to hear from me. And sometimes I want to call him and scream. But I never will. He will never have the satisfaction.

  According to another article Capri read, I’m in between the sweaty mania and blurry anger stages. Whatever those are. Apparently I should be feeling this major burst of energy soon that will make me want to run a marathon. I’m not counting on it. Now, maybe I’ll take a nice leisurely bike ride and do some Pilates in the park, but I’m only running if someone is chasing me with some blunt force object. The worst part is, according to this article, I haven't made it to the extreme sadness stage. What the heck? I don’t want to be any sadder than I already am. I don’t care how emotionally advanced it makes me.

  Capri needs to quit reading articles on the internet. For my and her husband’s sake. I don’t know if David will ever look me in the eye again after the whole post coital conversation.

  Maybe it’s time to try that superficial fling thing. Even if it does mean producing oxytocin and tricking my body into bonding with someone. I wonder if there is an antidote for the dumb little hormone. Maybe then I could sever the bond I feel every time I’m around Jackson.

  I think I’ll do some research. Or maybe raise some Kaine?

  Men still suck,

  Presley

  Day Thirty

  Wednesday, August 25

  I was one third there. Thirty-three point three-three-three percent. I was still waiting for my marathon burst of energy. But guess what? Even though the past month had sucked, I’d survived. That’s right. Take that, Jackson Montgomery! He seemed to be surviving better, or at least he was a good faker. I knew him, and his smiles didn’t light up his eyes anymore, even if he always had one plastered on his face. And for being the vice principal, he spent an inordinate amount of time in various classrooms. He was the most hands-on administrator I’d ever known. I didn’t think he was ready to give up teaching. Just like he wasn’t ready to give up coaching. He spent Friday night’s game on the field. From the stands, I could tell it annoyed Brad. The players flocked to Coach and Mr. Montgomery. I can’t blame Brad for being bothered by that, even if he is dating Mindy Everly. Or that’s her story.

  Mindy announced to us on Monday in the teacher’s lounge t
hat Brad and she spent practically the whole weekend together. Brad may have been part vampire. She had a few hickeys on her neck. Gross. I’d never understood why anyone would consider that romantic. Men shouldn’t leave any marks on you, except the ones that show in your eyes. You know, the happy ones. The mark of a cherished woman. Mr. Montgomery used to shine right through mine. Now it was mainly tears in the middle of the night.

  I hadn’t cried in a few days, so I’d take that as a good sign.

  I was kind of looking forward to the day ahead. We were starting the set design and guess who was going to be there? That’s right, Kaine. I was hoping he wasn’t evil like the bible version. But I wouldn’t mind it if he was a little wicked, in a good way.

  According to Mr. Crandall, his nephew was single, but recently out of a long-term relationship. So, maybe he needed a little superficial TLC like me. Was I awful to think like that? I felt like it was a test of the emergency broadcast system. I needed to know if I could be attracted to another man, and not just in the physical sense. There were men before Mr. Montgomery, but Mr. Montgomery was a game changer. He opened my eyes to a whole new world. I would never be able to settle for less after him. Maybe someday I would be able to thank him for that. For showing me how a woman should expect to be treated, minus the horrible way in which he ended it. Before that, he was a real gentleman. He was the kind of man who opened doors, and called, not texted, even though he did that too, but he mostly called. He always had a plan, none of this just hanging out stuff. He was so kind. And he bought my tampons on a regular basis. You can’t beat that. He even got the right kind. With the tampons always came chocolate and sometimes a flower, depending on where he bought the feminine hygiene products. He had spoiled me.

  I needed to know he hadn’t ruined me. I needed to know if other men like Jackson existed. And Kaine seemed like a good place to start.

  Capri snuck out of her class for a minute so she could get a peek at Kaine. We stood at the back of the auditorium and watched him and his uncle discuss, what, I don’t know, but who cared? We had a great view.

  Capri fanned herself with her hand. “My, my.” Her southern accent was out in full force.

  “I told you.”

  “You didn’t do him justice. Do you think he’ll get sweaty enough to take off his shirt?”

  “Need I remind you that you’re married?”

  “David and I are solid. A little eye candy never hurt anyone.”

  “I don’t think any clothing is coming off. Do you know how many parents would complain?”

  “Uh, none after they hauled their butts down here to see how fine of a specimen he is.”

  I laughed. “We’ll be sure to send a note home with the kids.”

  “Send a photo, too.”

  “You better get back to class.”

  “If I must. I’m going to live vicariously through you, so don’t disappoint me. Forget about what’s his name.”

  “I’m trying.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I know. And you’re doing a great job.”

  “You’re a good liar . . . and friend.”

  “I do what I can.” She walked away with an evil grin after pushing me forward. She must have known I was considering retreating.

  I don’t even know why I was nervous. Kaine could want nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t looking for any type of entanglement, just a guinea pig. I knew how terrible that sounded, but really, my intentions were pure.

  Mr. Crandall was alerted to my presence. “Presley, dear, join us.”

  I bit my lip and sauntered toward the men. I did my best not to full on stare or grin at Kaine. I could tell I was in his line of focus. I wished I could say that caused some type of physical reaction in me other than nerves. Once upon a time, before I ever met Mr. Montgomery, a man like Kaine would have already had my blood flowing. I wasn’t going to give up, yet.

  Mr. Crandall held out his hand to me when I approached the stage steps and helped me up.

  “Thank you.”

  He gave me a little wink.

  I braved a look at Kaine, who was smiling at me. Yep, still nothing, not even a little flutter or a skipped beat of my heart. “Hi.”

  “Hey, there.” He had a sexy voice.

  We did that awkward staring thing for a few seconds before his uncle saved me from probably making a fool out of myself. “We were just discussing the set design. I think for this kind of competition, we will need to make every piece count. They will each have to serve multiple purposes. Do you agree?”

  I nodded. I had been thinking the same thing. We only had forty-five minutes from start to finish in the competition, and that included getting your set on and off the stage. It was going to be tricky.

  Mr. Crandall smiled at my agreement, but in the next breath unease lined his face.

  “Something wrong?”

  He scratched his chin and looked at Kaine with a little grimace before addressing me. “Well, it appears we may have hit a little snag. Our new,” he cleared his throat, “vice principal has just informed me that our play selection may not be appropriate.”

  I could see Mr. Crandall brace himself, like he knew the fury boiling inside of me. “I’ll be right back.” I turned and marched off to find my idiot ex-boyfriend, seething as I went. How dare he. Mr. Crandall and I were careful when we had selected the play loosely based on Beethoven’s life. My high heels against the tiled floor reflected the anger I felt, fast and furious.

  The culprit happened to be walking my way. He must have noticed my death glare as he approached. His tentative smile turned to pressed lips and narrowed eyes. “Presley, I mean, Ms. Benson.” A hint of regret laced his words. He was in for more.

  I didn’t return the greeting. Without a word, I pulled him into the prop room, our room. The room in which he first told me he loved me. It had been the nearest door. He wasn’t the only one filled with regret. Hurt filled my soul as I looked around at all the brightly colored costumes that hung around us, and the memories that now lingered and afflicted pain. I tried to push through the ache in my chest for what used to be. I shut the door and let out a huge breath.

  Mr. Montgomery stood there, stunned. His brown eyes were as warm as I remembered them, a month ago. “We probably shouldn’t be in here together.”

  We stood a foot apart from each other.

  The desire my body felt for him waned with those words. I stepped farther away from him. “You don’t need to keep reminding me about how you feel about me.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Presley.” He inched closer.

  “Please don’t call me that.”

  His brows furrowed. “Why can’t we be . . .”

  “Friends?” I scoffed. “If this is how you treat your friends, I would hate to see how you treat your enemies.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The play, Jackson, I mean, Mr. Montgomery. How dare you sideline it. You should know Mr. Crandall and me better. You know how we vet the material we use.”

  His face began to redden. “The subject matter is questionable.”

  “Are you kidding me? We’re talking about Beethoven, who was an extremely conservative individual.”

  “The play hints at suicide and adultery.”

  I shook my head. “Did we read the same play? Where is there talk of cheating?”

  “His relationship with Julie implies it.”

  “Only if you have a dirty mind. There is no history to prove that, and the play doesn’t suggest it.”

  “What about his nephew’s attempted suicide?”

  All I could do was stare at him in utter disbelief at the person he had become. “What happened to you? We used to laugh about this bureaucratic crap. You know this is a non-issue.”

  “You don’t understand the politics of it.”

  “Apparently, there are a lot of things I don’t understand. Like you. Good day. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure no
one sees me leave. I would hate to tarnish your reputation, Mr. Montgomery.” I spun around and headed for the door.

  He caught my hand and pulled me back.

  I froze. In an instant I felt . . . I felt. Yeah, I felt.

  “Presley, don’t you know I wish things could be different?”

  Tears welled up in my eyes.

  He pulled me closer. I saw Jackson, not Mr. Montgomery, in his eyes. I saw wanting. The feeling was mutual.

  I pulled away. “Don’t. Please just don’t. You’re not who I thought you were.”

  He let go of my hand and hung his head. “I’ll see what I can do about the play.”

  I hurried out of the room before I lost it.

  Day Thirty-One

  Thursday, August 26

  Dear Mr. Bingley,

  We touched. I thought he might even kiss me. If I say I wanted him to, will you think ill of me? No more than I already feel. I hate myself for feeling that way. I shouldn’t; I don’t want to. This is too hard. Now my body craves him more than ever. I think I’ll need more time to get over him, but I can’t stand that thought. Please tell me how to make this emptiness and pain go away. I beg you.

  Now I understand why Jane took you back so easily. Do you men have any idea the effect you have on us? If you do, you should be utterly ashamed of yourselves. But don’t fear. I will rise to the occasion. I’m no Jane.

  In need of help,

  Presley

  Day Thirty-Five

  Monday, August 30

  I needed the weekend to detox. I wasn’t talking about purging alcohol from my body. I had stayed with that part of the plan and hadn’t had a drop. No, I was on a strict no men diet. I turned into Capri over the weekend and started searching online how to decrease the levels of oxytocin in your body. That encounter with an unnamed male had me reeling and wanting him more than ever. All I came up with was that, like men, oxytocin sucked. It was a two-faced little hormone. Not only did it make you feel all warm and fuzzy for that special someone, but it can also strengthen bad memories. That’s right. It’s a double whammy of yucky. And guess what? There’s no cure. A man invented it, that’s all I have to say.