Dirty Little Secret

A/N's at the bottom from now on :3

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Dirty Little Secret: Chapter Three

Finals were over. Finally it was freezing. I scurried across the icy sidewalks. No snow yet, just freezing rain. Lots of it. I glanced back over my shoulder. Mr. Jameson was still in the doorway. Someone must have caught him just as he was leaving. He looked so... I don't know, standing there in his tight jeans and black wool jacket, guitar bag slung over one shoulder. Was it just my imagination, or was my pulse quickening? Damn damn damn. I probably shouldn't have accepted his invitation for coffee. But the only thing I can't resist is temptation or something like that.

"Sorry about that, just working out the schedule," Mr. Jameson said as he approached, pulling out his car keys.

"No problem," I said as I opened the door and settled into the passenger's seat.

Mr. Jameson put his guitar in the backseat and slid into the driver's seat. He started the car, then cranked the heat way up. I gave him a grateful smile and he gave me a quiet one.

"Uhm. That song you played is cool. What's it called?" I was sort of desperate to break the silence.

"I haven't thought of a title yet," he said smoothly as he slowed to a stop at a red light.

"What? You wrote that?"

"Yeah. Is that so unbelievable?" He looked amused.

"Well, y- no." Duh, Shay, he teaches music. He couldn't have gotten through college without composing something.

"I actually wrote that in high school... I just reworked it recently. Not enough time for writing anything new, so I have to make due with what I can, ya know?"

Actually I didn't but I nodded. I was a lucky son of a bitch... I didn't work and I never did homework. I had lots and lots of freetime which I mostly spent playing video games and surfing the internet and every teenage guy's favorite bathroom pasttime. It was kind of weird, I'd never thought about Mr. Jameson, ya know, grading quizzes and music tests. My hands were resting on my knees and I stared at them as he drove down the street. The silence stretched beyond amiable into what some might call 'slightly uncomfortable.' I was thinking more along the lines of 'awkward'. Something like two miles later, we were back into the residential area, a couple of streets over from my house. I glanced up at Mr. Jameson at the same time he glanced at me.

"So, hey, do you have a preference about where we go?"

"If I did, I'd have told you," I replied in a venomously sweet way.

He looked a little surprised--again, with that surprise! What the hell!

"Sorry. If I want something specific, I'll say so," I said in more normal tones.

"Always?" There was something decidedly challenging in the arch of his eyebrows, the one upturned corner of his smirking mouth. I did, I realized, want to answer that challenge in kind--pounce on him and see what he did. But he was driving and suddenly I was a ballless wonder.

So I looked out the window. "Usually. If I really want it." There. Hah!

I was awarded with a throaty chuckle. I shifted a little. I'd never felt so... attracted to someone but at the same time so overcome by the fear of being an idiot. I wanted Mr. Jameson to like me, I wanted it desperately.

Apparently I'm a very desperate kid.

He parked in front of one of the coffee shops at the other end of town, near the college campus. I followed him in and up to the counter. I started to pull my wallet out of my pocket when he stopped me with a hand on my wrist.

"My treat," he said resolutely.

Still, I hestitated.

"You can buy next time."

Next time?

I ordered a hot chocolate from the barista. He got a regular cappuccino. We sank into a pair of oversized, understuffed leather chairs. Sipping our drinks, we quietly collected our respective thoughts.

"How long have you played guitar?" I asked.

"High school. One of my buddies wanted to form a band and I got recruited." He glanced at me over his cup's rim. "My main instrument is trumpet."

Sounds of Miles Davis and Satchmo blared through my head. "I love trumpet music."

"What else do you like?" he teased. "I can probably play it."

I pondered, then, "Digeridoo."

He laughed. "You got me there, okay."

"So what all do you play?"

"Only trumpet, guitar, and piano with any degree of proficiency." That was only a degree of proficiency? "I know the basics of most traditional band instruments. My professor always said I only had to be a day ahead of my students in terms of instrumental knowlege. And, of course, I know the fundamentals of singing."

"That's a pretty impressive resume."

"For a music ed major? Hardly. That's about the average tally."

"Well, I think it's impressive. I don't really have any talents at all..."

"That's not what I heard."

The tone was innocent enough but the words still made me sputter hot chocolate everywhere. Attractive, I know. I did my best to mop up the mess, then looked at him warily. The last person who had said something like that to me was Jessie. And the skills she was talking about...

"I heard you dance well. And you sing too. I count those as talents," Mr. Jameson said seriously. I was expecting him to be laughing, at least a little. But he just kept looking at me with a steady blue gaze.

"Who the hell told you that?" Honestly, I was puzzled. Dancing isn't a popular hobby amongst teenage guys, not here anyway. I had a pact of silence with the two other boys at the dance studio; they didn't oust me, I didn't oust them.

"I was talking to your aunt last year after a concert and she mentioned it."

"You... remembered that after all this time?" Most of my friends couldn't even remember what I had said the day before.

He nodded. I shifted, not sure of what to do or say. I checked my watch. It was only 11:40 but I still turned to him.

"I have to get home. My aunt's probably wondering where I am." It was such a cop out, and one that I regretted later.

The only conversation on the drive home was directions-giving. When we parked in front of the house, I was reluctant to get out. I sat there, hand on the door's handle.

"Uhm, thanks Mr. Jameson, for the coffee and the concert. I had fun." Feeling ever so awkward again, I was staring at my scruffy trainers.

"Shay." I looked up at him. "Call me Jake."

I leaned forward, frowning a little. That was an unexpected detail. He leaned forward too, and our lips met. It was... unlike any other kiss I'd had, even my first. It was sweet and gentle and totally unassuming. If I wasn't such a wishful thinker, I may have thought it was just a friendly kiss that landed in the wrong place. But it wasn't. It lasted too long (but not long enough). I was just thinking about responding, exerting a little pressure, when he broke the kiss. He leaned back and glanced at me. I didn't know what else to do, so I just left it with a jaunty "See ya Monday" and scrambled out of the car.

It was a struggle not to dance joyously out there on the lawn, in the midst of the first snow of the year.


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Thanks, anonymous readers, for sticking with this story for another chapter. ^^; Next update (which will probably be tomorrow) will be a double update: one chapter of some not-so-fun angst and one chapter of smut, as a reward for sitting through the angst.

Arsinen- I'm glad you like it X3 I'm familiar with Dir en grey... Never seen them live or any of their performances. Now I've gotta go find some! (To be off topic myself I'm a rabid Miyavi fan, hah.) Uh... Shay isn't really the lead tenor, at least not because of musical skill. Even though he isn't close to a lot of his peers, everyone knows him and he is -dare I say it- rather popular. And look... Update!