Page 54 of Shamed
We spend the next while going over some easier, simpler moves, and I have the women practice on each other while I guide them. There are an odd number of women, which means I’ve been paired with one of them as well.
While my instinct was to work with Jayne, I’ve left her alone. It obviously took a lot for her to be here, and I know she’s still wary of me, for obvious reasons.
It still doesn’t stop my eyes from being pulled to her, as if I need to make sure she’s okay. She’s the only one here who I know for a fact was sexually assaulted, and it happened to be by my ownex-friend.
It has me feeling responsible for her in a way I don’t feel with the others. It makes me notice things about her, like her facial expressions and movements.
I blame my fucking sensitive mind.
Jayne pays attention to every instruction, as well as every little detail given, even helping a fellow classmate who couldn’t get something right.
At the end of the lesson, I give them all something to work on over the next week, then tell them I’ll see them the following Friday.
I’m not surprised when Jayne slips out immediately without saying another word. I am, however, surprised that she walked out into the cold night, leaving her light brown jacket hanging on the rack, as well as the paper bag on the floor.
Grabbing them, I rush outside to chase her.
This feels familiar.
“Jen—uh, Jayne, you forgot your jacket.”
She turns around, her hand rubbing at her opposite arm as if she just noticed the cold when she sees her jacket in my hand. “Oh, thank you.”
“You did good in there,” I tell her as she takes it and slides it over her pink sweater.
“Well, you’re a good teacher.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile, then remember the bag in my hand and lift it. “You left this as well.”
There’s light shining on us from the overhead sign, and I swear I see a pink hue touch her cheeks. “I brought that for you. To say thank you.”
I peek into the bag and see a delicious-looking chocolate chip cookie, and the corner of my lip tips up. “Thanks. Will you come back next week?”
She shakes her head, a gust of cool wind blowing her hair around. “The offer was for one session, right?”
I shrug. “You’re more than welcome to join more.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’d be free, if that’s your concern.”
I remember her family being wealthy when we were in school, but that doesn’t mean she is now. Why else would she be working atTease?
I try to keep my brows from dipping at that thought. Considering her history, it troubles me thatthatis her choice of work, and even more so at that particular place.
“That’s not the problem.”
Nottheproblem? Does that mean there isaproblem?
Stuffing my free hand into my pocket, I adopt a relaxed pose. “Well, you know where to come if you change your mind.” I glance around the area. “Did you have to park far away? It’s usually hard to find anything close at this time of day.”
“No, I don’t have a car. I usually just walk or take the bus.” A troubled look passes her face as if she just remembered something, but it quickly disappears. Tightening her jacket, she looks over her shoulder. “I better get going before I miss the next one.”
I nod, taking a step back, even though my mind tells me to offer her a ride. I doubt she’d accept it—our few encounters have shown me that. “‘Kay, well, have a good night.”
Hesitantly, I turn around and walk back inside. The gym closed to the public shortly after my class started, but I need to make sure no one else is inside and then grab my stuff before setting the alarm and locking up.
Half an hour later, I’m driving through the streets on my way home, my mind lost on thoughts about the past, the guys.
