8. Brielle

11:00 a.m. I'm right on time.

I push open the big double doors of Jefferson Elementary with a brown sack full of Chinese food in my hand. Callie is absolutely going to flip once she sees what I've brought for her, although it's more of a peace offering so she'll help me sort through every thought I have in my head right now.

"Miss Brielle!" The singsong greeting of the secretary, Mrs. Hopper, chirps from behind her desk. Her hair has become almost white, revealing her age, and she's dressed in the same blouse and dress pants that I remember from back when I attended this school. Some things really do never change.

"Hey, Mrs. Hopper," I call back, flashing a grin over my shoulder, stopping to speak to her.

"Oh, you don't have to call me that anymore. Diana is more than fine."

I laugh. "Yes, ma'am."

"It's so nice to see your face around here again. I know your father has been missing you. How is he?" Even though I'm sure she means it with the best intentions, I also know that Diana has quite the crush on my father.

"He's good," I answer with a smile.

"I'm so glad to hear it." Her grin is big, too big. "I'm assuming you're seeing Callie? The teacher is gone today, so she got to do everything on her own."

"How exciting. I'm so proud of her."

"Oh, me too. I never would have thought teaching would be her passion, but she's just marvelous at it. I'll buzz you in."

"Thank you!"

My heels click-clack down the hall with purpose. I reach the door marked with a colorful Room 102 sign and a parade of paper cutout hands. Without knocking, I nudge it open with my hip and step inside. "Special delivery!"

Two dozen pairs of eyes swivel toward me—excitement sparks like static in the air. Little munchkins abandon their worksheets, crayons rolling onto the floor forgotten as they see the crinkled brown bag in my grip.

"Kids, it looks like we have a surprise visitor," Callie says from her spot next to a life-size Abraham Lincoln poster, her voice carrying over the buzz.

"Did you bring treats?" A little girl with pigtails and a gap-toothed smile bounces on her toes, her question bouncing off the walls just as energetically.

"Maybe I did." I wink at Callie, then turn toward the class, reaching into the bag with a flourish. "Who here likes cookies?"

"Me! Me! I do!" They chant, hands shooting up like fireworks.

"Okay, okay," I laugh, the sound mingling with the clamor of eager voices. "There's enough for everyone. Alright, line up nice and neat. Miss Callie, would you do the honors?" I hand her the box of cookies, their rich chocolatey aroma mingling with the tang of markers and glue. For a moment, my heart squeezes tight, watching her transform routine into magic with her easy smile and gentle words.

"Thank you, Brielle," Callie mouths to me.

The kids snake around the room, eagerly waiting for their turns. "Save me a cookie, will you?" I lean against a desk, crossing my arms and letting the anticipation build. Because once the kids are distracted, I'll spill everything to Callie. Every sordid, steamy detail.

"Of course," she tells the children, her voice tinged with laughter. "Alright, little ones, it's recess!" Callie announces once she's handed out all the cookies, her voice rising above the murmur of excitement. The room erupts into a cacophony of cheers and scraping chairs as the children bolt toward the door, their small feet thundering like a herd of miniature elephants stampeding toward freedom.

As the last echo of laughter fades, the air in the once lively classroom hangs heavy with silence. It's just me and Callie now, surrounded by crayon masterpieces and the lingering scent of orange chicken from the brown sack on her desk.

"Please tell me that smell is what I think it is."

I push the bag toward her. "Duh."

Callie settles across from me, an eyebrow quirked, a knowing smile playing on her lips while she takes out the food. "You're practically vibrating with news, Brielle. Spill before you burst."

I lean forward, hands clasped together, my heart pounding against my rib cage. "Callie, you have no idea. I'm dying to tell you everything." My words are a dam ready to break, the secrets itching to escape, already tingling on the tip of my tongue.

"Tick tock, Brielle." Callie's voice cuts through the thick air of anticipation. "Thirty minutes isn't a lifetime, and that's all you've got until the kids come back in from recess."

I nod, my pulse racing like a countdown timer. "Right, right." My fingers drum on the laminate surface of the child-sized table, each tap echoing my urgency. "The man from the plane…well, it wasn't just one man. And…they're not just any men." My voice drops to a whisper, the weight of the revelation heavy on my tongue.

Callie's eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"They're…professors." The words spill out of me, tumbling over one another in their haste to be heard. "At the college. And they're friends of my dad, and not just any friends—like, his best friends."

"Professors?" Callie gasps. "Your dad's friends?"

"Yep," I confirm, the truth of it settling into the space around us, a tangible thing that shifts the atmosphere. My hands go clammy, the remnants of the adrenaline rush from our illicit encounter now replaced by a cold, sinking feeling.

"God, Brielle." She leans back, her chair squeaking in protest. "Tell me you're joking," she says, half pleading, half demanding.

"I wish I was." My gaze drops to the half-eaten cookie in my hand, suddenly unappetizing. "And it gets more complicated."

"Complicated how?" Callie's voice is a tightrope, taut with tension.

"Promises were made," I murmur, the confession sticking in my throat like a lump of raw dough. "To keep things quiet."

"Promises? Brielle…" Her tone is a mix of reprimand and concern, the furrow in her brow deepening.

"Yes." I exhale. "I told one of them I'd sleep with him again if he didn't tell Dad."

"God, Brielle, that's…that's…" she stammers, and I can tell she's grappling with the magnitude of my confession.

"Scandalous?" I supply the word, tasting the sinfulness of it on my tongue.

"Exactly!" Her exasperation is almost comical, but there's a gleam in her eye that tells me she's equal parts horrified and enthralled. "I never would have seen this coming. Is that the only reason you agreed to sleep with him again, to keep it all a secret? Or is it something more?" The way she's looking at me makes it clear that I don't have to hide the truth from her.

"It might be," I admit, unable to meet her gaze, my voice barely above a whisper. The walls of the classroom seem to close in, the colorful posters and drawings mocking me with their cheerfulness. "It's just that…the way they make me feel."

"What do you think your dad would do?" she asks.

I shake my head and blow out a breath. "I don't have a clue."

I lean back in my chair, the plastic creaking beneath me. A cookie crumbles between my fingers. "And get this, the girls at the college have a nickname for them—the sexy society. Isn't that insane?"

"Sexy society?" Callie echoes, and her mouth hangs open for a beat before snapping shut. "That sounds like some twisted academic boy band."

"Yep, I'm not the only one who finds them sexy," I confess. "And I fell right into their orbit like they're some kind of forbidden fruit."

"Jesus, Brie…" Callie's hand covers her mouth, her eyes wide as saucers. "That's not just picking the forbidden apple—that's raiding the whole damn orchard."

"Tell me about it." The words are heavy with irony, the reality of my situation settling in my stomach like lead.

"I have to see a picture of them."

I roll my eyes playfully. "You know what, next time I see them I'll be sure to ask them for one."

"You know, I'm going to give you props because I may be all about living life on the wild side, but this…this is crazier than anything I've ever done. You're playing with fire."

"Tell me something I don't know." My laugh is hollow, devoid of humor. I stare down at my hands, tracing the lines in my palms. "Especially with Levi Griffin," I continue, the name leaving a sour tang in my mouth. The memory of his steely gaze sends a shiver down my spine. "He made it clear he wants nothing more to do with me."

"Wait, what?" Her voice pitches high with disbelief.

"Yep, he gave me a very strong suggestion to drop his class." I can still hear the low timbre of his voice, the implicit promise of consequences if I dare to defy him.

"God, he sounds intense." Callie's concern is a warm hand on my cold, clammy skin.

"Intense doesn't begin to cover it." I shudder, recalling the firm set of his jaw, the predatory glint in his eye. "There's something about him that…unsettles me."

"Time is moving way too fast."

My heart is a wild drumbeat in my chest as I follow Callie's gaze to the classroom clock. "We've barely scratched the surface," I say, the words tumbling out in a rush.

"Thirty minutes is nothing with a story like yours." Callie sweeps a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and gives me that look, the one that says she means business. "You need more than a quick chat, Brielle. Let's meet up after work, dissect every deliciously sordid detail."

"Sounds like a plan." Relief floods through me.

"Actually…" Callie tilts her head, an impish sparkle in her warm brown eyes. "My mom got me these tickets. She roped me into this trivia night thing at The Tipsy Owl. Thinks I'll find Mr. Right between questions about Shakespeare and eighties pop songs."

"Trivia night?" I laugh despite the dread coiling in my stomach. Leave it to Callie to find humor when my world feels like it's crumbling. "Sounds…riveting."

"Hey, it's either that or another blind date courtesy of Mom." She shrugs, and the laughter lines around her mouth deepen. "At least this way, I can flex my brain muscles and drink overpriced cocktails."

"Two birds, one stone." My voice cracks like dry earth under a relentless sun. The idea of something normal like trivia night seems alien, a stark contrast to the web of desire and danger I'm tangled in.

"Exactly!" She claps her hands together, her bangles jangling merrily. "So, what do you say? We can talk more there."

"Deal." The word slips out, light and airy, a feather on the wind. I cling to the thought of a few hours pretending everything is normal, that I'm just another girl caught up in the thrill of potential romance, not ensnared in a scandalous liaison with three men who should be off-limits.

"Perfect." Callie grins.

The bell rings again, signaling the end of recess. As the kids pile back into the room, their energy infectious, I feel a pang of envy for their simple joys, their unblemished futures. If only life remained as straightforward as a playground game.

"See you tonight, Brie," Callie whispers, squeezing my hand before she turns back to the kids.