How to Get Over Your Ex in Ninety Days Page 9

  At least I got the burst of marathon-inducing energy. Maybe I didn’t run twenty-six miles, but my apartment had never been so clean, and I did run . . . to the mall. Let’s just say I was looking freaking fantastic today, and for the rest of the week. Who cared if my savings account was now looking a little pathetic? I was looking fine and feeling . . . well, I was still working on the feeling fine. Fifty-five more days, baby, and I’d be the happiest and healthiest ex-girlfriend ever. That’s what I kept telling myself. Someday I was going to believe it.

  I walked with a little spring in my step all the way to the car line with my new, pink A-line ottoman dress. I ignored the men already helping kids out of the car, even though they both looked my way and acknowledged my presence with waves and smiles. Mr. Montgomery’s was halfhearted. No matter. I ignored it. I was back on offense.

  I did my best to focus on the students exiting their vehicles instead of the stares. I knew he was staring. I could feel it. I was proud of myself for not acknowledging him, but I wanted to. That oxytocin was wicked stuff. It should be an illegal substance.

  I fist bumped, high-fived, and even hugged a few kids with a big smile on my face. I was a drama teacher, after all. I could fake happy like no one’s business.

  After the last car, I headed for the school’s entrance a little brisker than normal. I was avoiding the defense at all costs, even in my brand-new peep-toe pumps. Let’s just hope I didn’t make a date with the floor again. The bruise from the last time had barely gone away, but my injured pride was still alive and well.

  “Ms. Benson.”

  Noooo. I was almost to the goal line, aka the door. Didn’t he get the I-hate-you vibes from the car line? I looked for someone, anyone, to pass the ball to, but not another player was in sight. So, I did what any good quarterback would do. I was going to run the ball in myself. I picked up my pace and ignored the opposing team. Note to self, wear tennis shoes from now on and start training for that marathon. Mr. Montgomery was a better athlete than me. He caught up to me and pushed the door shut that I had just opened.

  I glared at him, completely ignoring the fact that he was my boss. “Excuse me.”

  He pinched his lips together and breathed in deeply. His eyes begged me to not be angry with him.

  “I need to get to my class.”

  He dropped his hand. “I wanted to let you know that the play has been approved.”

  “Thanks.” I reached for the door. I wanted to say it should have never been sidelined, but that meant being in his presence longer, and that dumb little hormone inside of me was clambering for him.

  “Have a good day.”

  “I will.” I threw open the door in defiance and marched myself, albeit cautiously, to my classroom. I ran into Mr. Crandall on my way. “Good morning.”

  He tilted his head. “Are you sure?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair and huffed. “Positive.”

  “You’re a good actress.”

  I half grinned. “Thanks.”

  “I heard the good news. Looks like you still have some sway after all.”

  “It had nothing to do with me.”

  The little glint lit up his eyes. “You’re mistaken there, dear. I think you would be surprised at the power you still hold over our new vice principal.”

  I shook my head. “I only made him see reason.”

  “Are you so sure? I guess you were unaware that Dr. Walters told me to find a new play. Jackson made him reconsider.”

  I stood up straighter. “I wasn’t aware.”

  He smiled. “Why do I feel like there will be a twist in the plot?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, we’re in for an interesting semester. Good luck, my dear.” He walked away.

  “Wait, wait. You can’t say something like that and leave.”

  He waved to me from behind and kept on going, chuckling as he went.

  Day Thirty-Six

  Tuesday, August 31

  Dear Mr. Bingley,

  The only twist that was going to happen was the one where in fifty-four days I would be completely cured of the man who went to bat for us. Speaking of bats, I heard a great country song this morning while I was getting ready. It was about a cheated-on woman bashing in the taillights of her ex’s truck with a bat. I should have started listening to country music a long time ago. It would have clearly directed me away from charming men raised in the south.

  Jane should have read up on gentleman that earned five thousand pounds or more a year. Oh, but wait, she couldn’t have because you male chauvinist pigs back then only let men be published. I’m sure you painted yourselves in the best light possible. Just like everyone at Riverton High thinks my ex is a saint. I suppose he is, as long as you come with the right credentials and you never date him.

  I guess that is the hardest part for me. Reconciling the man I dated with the man who broke up with me.

  Today, though, is a new day.

  Wish me luck,

  Presley

  With the play selection approved, we moved forward with auditions. Mr. Crandall and I sat with the advanced class during fourth block and read through the entire play. We had each student read several different parts to get a feel for who would be best in each role. It was exciting, as was Kaine’s vision for our set. He was building a piano into a wall that could be turned around depending on the scene. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but he seemed confident in his abilities. It was kind of sexy.

  Speaking of sexy, Kaine came strolling on stage at the end of fourth block, the last block of the day. He looked ready to work in his jeans, t-shirt, and work boots. I was still waiting for my heart rate to increase or something whenever I was around him. It didn’t seem right that a man as good looking as he was didn’t cause any sort of physiological response in me. It was a crime.

  Whether he made me swoon or not, he smiled at me when he walked on stage. I gave him one in return, along with all the girls in the class. I inwardly laughed at all the heads coming together and blushes. That would have been me, too, at that age. Heck, it would have been me last year before some other gorgeous man crashed into my life.

  Harper, who we were considering for the female lead, raised her hand. “Do we really have to kiss if we get the part?” She shyly looked at Leland, who we were considering to be Beethoven. Her attraction to him was apparent. Leland’s head popped up, but I couldn’t tell how he felt about her or the fact that they could be kissing on stage.

  “Yes,” I answered for both Mr. Crandall and myself. “But don’t fear, we’ll walk you through the process.”

  Harper’s face turned a cute shade of pink. She whispered something to her friend and they both smiled. I took it my answer was to her liking. I watched Leland do his best to look at Harper without appearing that he was. Oh, the games we played. We start young, don’t we? I wished I could say it changes, but I don’t think it ever does.

  As soon as the bell rang, Harper made a beeline toward me. “Can I talk to you, privately?”

  “Sure.” I put my arm around her and walked her to the backstage area. “What can I do for you?”

  She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “Um. I’ve never . . . you know . . .”

  “Kissed someone?”

  She looked up, her cheeks were burning red. “Yeah.”

  “That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I didn’t kiss anyone until I was eighteen.”

  “Really? But, you’re so pretty.”

  “Looks have nothing to do with it. If they did, you would have been kissed by now.”

  She smiled at the compliment.

  I placed my hand on her seventeen-year-old shoulder. “You shouldn’t feel pressure to kiss anyone unless it feels right for you. If you get the lead and you don’t want your first kiss to be on stage, we can stage a kiss.”

  “No, I want to.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “What if it isn’t Leland?”

  She blushed again. “Can we do
that stage thing then?”

  I laughed. “We’ll see what we can do.”

  “Are you going to show us how to kiss on stage again with Mr. Montgomery?”

  I had to hold back the tears. I shook my head. “No.” I couldn’t believe it had been a year. We had shared our first kiss on stage before we ever started dating. All it took was that one kiss and I was his, whether he was ready or not. He was cautious about dating a coworker. We should have both thought twice about it, but when he kissed me, it was like I was fused to him. I thought he felt it, too. He’d kissed me longer than necessary, to the cheers of my students. And I’d never forget what he said, though I wished I could. He quoted from The Princess Bride—it was how it became our movie—“Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” He said that after many of our kisses. And now I hated him for it because it was true.

  “I heard you broke up. See you tomorrow.” She walked away, not knowing how much she had just killed me inside.

  Yeah, tomorrow. Tomorrow was September. And then I could say, next month my plan would be complete. The ache would be gone and I would have moved on.

  That thought motivated me to walk back out to the stage and make Capri proud. I was going to do something totally superficial. “Kaine.”

  He was putting on his tool belt. For some odd reason, that kind of did something for me. Anyway. He gave me his attention. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Nice touch, but I was on to Southern men now. I walked toward him. I needed this to be a more private conversation.

  He smiled as I neared.

  I planted my feet firmly in front of him and took a deep breath. “I need you to kiss me.”

  He shook his head and his not quite buckled tool belt hit the floor, making a loud enough sound that I jumped. “Sorry about that.” He bent down to pick up his belt.”

  It brought me to my senses. “No. I’m the one that’s sorry. Forget I asked.” I turned to go crawl under a hole and die.

  “Hey, you didn’t let me answer.”

  I turned back around to see him grinning.

  “I take it you need a warm body to show your students kissing technique?”

  I grinned. “Something like that? But, really, forget about it.”

  “What if I was willing to help you out?”

  I rubbed my lips together. “Are you?”

  His baby blue eyes shined. “I could be persuaded to, but maybe we should get to know each other better first. How about dinner Friday night?”

  Oh gosh, oh gosh. I wasn’t expecting that. “Completely superficial, right?”

  He laughed. “You are one interesting woman. I can do superficial.”

  “Fantastic. It’s a date then.”

  What just happened there?

  Day Thirty-Seven

  Wednesday, September 1

  Dear Mr. Bingley,

  It’s September and I have a date. A date with an attractive man. Maybe, probably, the most attractive man I’ve ever had a date with. I know what you’re thinking. You think this is a rebound and I’ll regret it because no one can live up to Mr. Montgomery. But you’re wrong. I’ve been upfront about my intentions and Mr. Montgomery isn’t the end all. You must have thought you were or you wouldn’t have come back to Jane and proposed so quickly. You really were a pompous twit.

  No matter what you think, I’m not rebounding or using Kaine to help me get over Mr. Montgomery. I’m simply exploring my options. I’m throwing my line back out into the vast ocean of men. It’s natural and normal, healthy even. Yes, yes, I’m doing it for my health.

  Good day to you,

  Presley

  My phone rang on the way out my door to work. “Miss Liliana, you’re up early this morning.”

  “I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

  “I’m so sorry. Are you sick?”

  “Very.”

  “Can I do something for you?”

  “Don’t go on that date.”

  I fumbled my phone and almost dropped it. “How did you know?”

  “Darling, you live in the South now, where secrets never keep.”

  It wasn’t a secret, but I wasn’t broadcasting it either, unless you counted Capri.

  “Regardless, this won’t do. You won’t find a better man than Jackson.”

  “You do remember that he broke up with me?”

  “I know. He’s an imbecile, and I’m trying to correct his grievous behavior, but you’re not helping by dating someone else.”

  “I’m not dating anyone. I’m going on a date.”

  “Darling, please reconsider. Jackson—”

  “Jackson, what?”

  “Oh, dear, I wasn’t supposed to say.”

  “Miss Liliana?”

  “Jackson doesn’t think he’s good enough for you.”

  “Jackson was the one who told you? And what does he know?” My blood was boiling.

  “Now I’ve upset you.”

  “Of course I’m upset. It’s none of Jackson’s business who I date. He lost his right to care when he told me he had only been messing around with me.”

  “You know he doesn’t really believe that.”

  “He has to, because if not, I could never forgive him for the way he’s treated me. Love doesn’t act that way.”

  “Darling, please think about it. He’s under more pressure than you know. There are things you don’t know.”

  “He let me go.” A tear ran down my cheek. That’s all I needed to know.

  “It was an awful thing to do, I know, but don’t go past the point of no return. You’ll both regret it.”

  “Miss Liliana, I love you, but he pushed me away, and in fifty-three days, he’ll be a distant memory.”

  “Fifty-three days?”

  Crap, did I say that out loud? Only Capri knew of my plan. And I knew how ridiculous it sounded, even if it was scientifically proven. “Never mind. I hope you have a good day. Let’s have lunch next week.”

  “Presley, please don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

  “I won’t.” I wasn’t going to regret going out with Kaine.

  That wasn’t the way I wanted to start my day. It didn’t get much better. Miss Liliana was right about living in the South. The intrigue of my going on a date was beyond me, but when I walked into the school, I felt like I was on display. Eyes were following me and heads came together. Except for Coach.

  “PB.” He bounded up to me on my way out to the car line.

  “Hey, Coach.”

  “I feel like I’ve hardly seen you this year.”

  “I know, things have . . .”

  “You mean Jackson?”

  I nudged him and he laughed. “I guess I didn’t get you in the divorce.”

  He patted his belly. “There’s enough of me to go around.”

  “I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you, well not really you.”

  “Don’t worry, I get it, especially now that you’ve moved on to Crandall’s nephew.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into all the gossip.”

  He grinned. “So you’re not going out with him?”

  “We’re going on a date Friday night.”

  “Now I’m offended. We play at home that night.”

  “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay, you can bring him to the game.”

  I started walking toward my destination again. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He followed after me. “I think it’s perfect. Jackson needs to see what he’s missing out on.”

  “This isn’t a revenge date.”

  “Don’t get in a tizzy, I know. But someone needs to smack some sense into Jackson and judging by the way he was acting last night, I would say this would do it.”

  “Hold up. You’re not on Jackson’s side?”

  “Hell, no, girl.”

  I laughed.

  “You’re the b
est thing that ever happened to him. He hasn’t been the same since he went all administrator on us and let you go. I need my man back and you need to help me.”

  “I had no idea the budding romance you two had going on.”

  “It’s complicated.” He batted his eyelashes like a woman in one of those old silent films.

  “Does Marie know?” Marie was his wife.

  “She encourages it. The more time I spend with him, the less I get in her hair. So help a guy out and give Jackson a wake-up call.”

  “As much as I love you and Marie, I’m not using someone just so you can rekindle your bromance.”

  “Girl, that’s just cold.”

  “He doesn’t want me back anyway.”

  “I know you’re smarter than that. I expect to see you at the game Friday night.” He jogged off without another word.

  After all my morning conversations, I especially dreaded going out to the car line to face Mr. Montgomery. Who knew one date would cause so much disruption? Did everyone think I wouldn’t move on? That I would pine endlessly for him? I wasn’t that kind of woman. My identity had never been wrapped up in a man. Sure, I loved who we were together, but I was still me.

  My saving grace came in the form of the best friend ever. She ran up to me as soon as I walked outside. “I thought you might need some backup today.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “I love you.”

  “I know.” She locked arms with me and we looked like we were off to see the Wizard of Oz.

  I wished I were in Kansas, because Kansas was next door to Colorado, and this girl could have used her mom right about now.

  Brad and Mr. Montgomery acknowledged our presence with head nods. And perhaps Mr. Montgomery’s eyes lingered longer, at least according to Capri.

  “I think Jackson is looking a little forlorn,” Capri whispered in my ear.

  “Forlorn?”

  “Yeah, it means pitiful and sad.”

  “I know what it means; I have a degree in English. It just sounds funny coming out of your mouth.”