Chapter Text
You sit in the teachers' lounge at one of the dimly lit tables, trying to get your grading done. It is the first week back after a long, hot summer. You’ve been back two days, two single days, and you’re counting down the MINUTES until the next break.
It’s day 2, and you’re wondering how you already have so much grading to do, when Ms Schemmenti walks into the room. She puts her mug on the table with an almighty bang, which causes everyone to jump.
“Right, youse are all coming to the bar with me tonight,” she announces. “I don’t know about you, but I’m over this week already.”
“I can’t, I have choir practice,” Barbara Howard announces.
“Gregory and I already have plans,” Janine says apologetically. She looks at Jacob, and he shakes his head.
“Can’t, I have a date,” he says.
Melissa Schemmenti shrugs in defeat. She flicks her red hair over her shoulder and slumps into her chair.
“Looks like I’ll be boozin’ it alone tonight,” she says as she opens her lunchbox.
“Hey, what about y/n?” Janine suggests, and you look across the room at them. It’s a Tuesday. You don’t usually drink on school days, or much at all, really. But this semester is already proving to be difficult. So what the hell.
“Buy me dinner, and I’m in,” you say casually, still looking at your papers. You want to look up at her, at the gorgeous redhead you know is staring at you. But you don’t. You know if you did, you would start blushing uncontrollably. And nobody wants to see that.
“Alright,” Melissa says. “You’re on.”
You’ve worked at Abbot for six years, and you know pretty much everything there is to know about Melissa. Mostly because you’re good at listening, and she talks a lot. You don’t mind, though. You’d listen to her talk all day.
“Hey, y/n,” she says once the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. “Come find me after school, yeah? We can drive together.”
You have a perfectly good car, and if you left it here overnight, you’d have a hard time making your way back in tomorrow. But you really want to let Melissa drive you around.
“Sure,” you say casually, heading back to your classroom.
You teach 6th-grade English upstairs, and Melissa has moved to the same floor as you to also teach 6th grade this year. It is exciting to be able to see her more often. Yesterday she came into your classroom to ask to borrow something, for the first time. It caught you by surprise, but it also made your entire day.
You were looking forward to going out with her tonight. Sure, there were probably more important things for you to be doing. But this was an opportunity you weren’t sure you’d get again.
“Okay, class, don’t forget your essays are due tomorrow,” you remind the kids as they start to file out of the class at the end of the day. “And you’re in the 6th grade now, so if you fail to bring the essay to class, I’ll have no choice but to keep you behind after school,” you say, and they all groan.
“Yeah, it sucks. So don’t forget them.”
“After school detention?” Melissa asks from the doorway, nodding her head at you. “You’re a tough guy.”
“When I need to be,” you say, straightening a stack of papers on the desk. “Gimme five and I’ll be ready.”
“No rush, hon,” she says, sitting on one of the desks in your classroom. “I like your set-up,” she says, looking around.
“Thanks,” you say. You spent an entire personal day here setting up for the year before school started. So you hope it looks good.
“My classroom is lacking a bit of colour at the moment,” she tells you. “Maybe you could help me spruce it up.”
“Yeah, could do,” you say, distracted by your phone. You just have to take care of something, and then you can leave. You shoot off a text, and when you get an immediate response, you put your phone in your pocket.
“Okay, I’m good now,” you tell her. She claps excitedly, and your heart flutters at how excited she is for this. Dinner and drinks, just you and Ms Schemmenti. All alone.
“Where are we going?” You ask, and she starts to talk about her favourite bar. And the way she speaks so passionately about it makes you laugh.
“As long as they have a greasy burger, I don’t care where we go,” you say. “I’m really craving some unhealthy food today.”
“No shit, me too!” She says, laughing as she hits your arm playfully. You’ve noticed her eyeliner is looking more and more incredible lately, and you catch yourself staring momentarily as you walk down the stairs together.
“What? I got somethin’ on my face?” She asks, and you blush.
“No, no,” you say. “I was just wondering how you got your eyeliner so sharp?” You ask, recovering nicely.
“Oh! I use this incredible liquid liner pen, hang on, let me find it,” she says as she rummages through her purse. “Here, take a picture of it,” she says seriously. “It’s on sale at the moment.”
“Oh, thanks,” you say, snapping a pic on your phone. It was actually really helpful; you’d been genuinely looking for a decent liner for a while.
“Want me to drive?” Melissa asks, and you look at your car.
“Uh, will you be able to bring me back here after?” You ask. “I won’t be able to get to school tomorrow otherwise.”
“Yeah, sure, hon,” she smiles, touching your arm again. “Hey, listen, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you out until Janine suggested it,” she says as she unlocks her car. “I honestly didn’t think you’d come,” she says.
“Why not?” I ask curiously, and she laughs.
“Y/N, you’ve been here what, five years?”
“Six,” you correct.
“Six years and you’ve never come out with any of us,” she says with a raised brow. You get into the car and nod. She has a point.
“What can I say, I’m a busy woman,” you lie as she starts the car, smirking at you.
“Honestly, I thought you hated me,” she says.
“Of course I don’t hate you,” you say. “But you know, your little Abbott friendship group is kinda like Regina George’s table in Mean Girls,” you tell her, and she laughs.
“You can’t sit with us,” you say in a high-pitched voice, and she laughs again, swatting your arm.
“You’re funny, kid!” Her hand lingers on your arm as she drives. She keeps touching you, and it’s driving you wild.
You spend the evening laughing with Melissa. You order burgers and drink far too many beers. She’s really good company, but that doesn’t surprise you. You always expected she would be.
“I don’t think either of us should be driving anywhere,” you tell her, and she laughs, linking her arm with yours.
“We can order a ride share,” she says. “Oh!” She exclaims, leaning towards you. She brings a finger up to your mouth and wipes it across your cheek.
“Hot sauce on your face,” she laughs. “Got it”
You look at the sauce on her finger, and then you look back at her. She stares at you and slides her finger into her mouth, sucking it clean and releasing it with a pop.
“Thanks for saving that for me,” she jokes, and you feel like you’re about to combust. You wish it were your finger she was sucking on.
Melissa smirks at you, like she can hear your thoughts and see all of your emotions. “Uber is here,” she tells you when her phone buzzes.
On the ride home, she talks about her students and how she didn’t expect jumping from 2nd grade to 6th grade would be so hard. You give her some 6th-grade pointers, and she seems really appreciative.
“If you get stuck with anything, you can always swing by my classroom,” you tell her as the Uber stops outside your house. “This is me,” you say, looking out the window. The lights are on, which means Oscar is still up, and you’re about to have a whole lot of questions to answer.
“I had a really good time tonight,” you tell Melissa, and she smiles.
“Me too, kid.”
She leans forward and kisses your cheek quickly. “Have a good night.”
You climb out of the cab and hold your hand to your cheek, smiling to yourself. Oh you would have a good night. And you wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about her and those lips.
______
When you wake in the morning, you have a text from Melissa asking if you want a ride to work. She says she got up early and got a cab to pick up her car, and will grab you on her way past.
You text her yes and thank her, and start to get ready for work. Oscar is still asleep, so you leave quietly.
“Hey,” Mel says, reaching over to open the door for you. “I got you a coffee.”
“Wow, thank you,” you say as she passes you the takeaway cup. “My coffee machine is broken,” you tell her. “I usually have to wait until I get to work to make one.”
“Oh, that sucks,” she says, looking at you and smiling.
“I had fun last night,” she says.
“Yeah, me too,” you grin. You drive to work in comfortable silence, occasionally sneaking glances at one another. And throughout the day, you catch yourself looking for Melissa every time someone walks past your classroom. It’s torture.
At lunch time, you walk into the staff lounge, and Mel smiles at you.
“Come sit with us,” she says, and you bite your lip.
“Okay, thanks,” you smile.
“So anyway, Barbara, it’s called Love Island,” She says, turning back to her friend, who doesn’t look the least bit interested.
“Y/n, do you watch Love Island?” She asks you, and you shake your head.
“Nah, I’ve never really been into reality TV,” you admit. “Although I’m a sucker for housewives.”
“No way!” Mel says, smacking the table. “Me too! If you love housewives, you’ll probably like Love Island,” she says. “Come to mine tonight, and we can binge-watch it.”
“Sure,” you smile, without even thinking. You pull your phone out and text Oscar to tell him you’ll be late getting home again, and then you listen to Melissa and Barbara for the rest of lunch, enjoying being close to her.
“Hey, kid,” Melissa says at the end of the day. She catches you at a moment when you’re trying to get a knot out of your neck. “You okay?”
“I think I slept funny,” you tell her, rolling your neck.
“Here, let me,” she says, dropping her purse on the desk and walking behind you. She presses her fingers to your neck, and you can’t suppress the moan as she starts to rub the tightness.
“Oh baby, you’re really tight,” she says, and you feel yourself flood with need at her words. “This feels like you’ve been sleeping funny your whole life,” she tells you.
“Let’s go, I can give you a proper massage at my place,” she says seriously once she lets go of your neck. And you have to give yourself a second before you stand. You are so turned on right now, you’re worried you won’t be able to walk.
“You can follow me in your car,” she says. “My house isn’t far.”
The drive is short, but you spend the whole time thinking about her hands on your neck. You wonder how it would feel if she slid them around your throat and squeezed gently.
“Stop thinking sexy thoughts,” you tell yourself as you park on her driveway.
“Welcome,” Melissa says, proudly showing you into her house. “The best thing I got in the divorce was this house.”
“I wish I got a house in my divorce,” you laugh, and Melissa spins round to look at you.
“Hold up, kid. You were married?” She asks, and you nod.
“Yeah. I married my childhood sweetheart," you laugh. “Big mistake.”
“Ya know I think someone would have to pay me to get married again,” Melissa says, leading you into the kitchen. “What d’ya wanna eat?”
“Oh,” you say. “I wasn’t expecting you to feed me.”
“Y/N, feeding is my love language,” she tells you. “I can whip up some pasta real quick?”
“Thank you,” you smile. “I’ll eat anything.”
“Atta girl,” Mel says, touching your arm again. “I love a girl who can eat.”
“When I was a kid, if you didn’t eat what Nonna cooked, she would cry,” you explain, and Mel’s eyes widen.
“Nonna? You’re Italian? You Sicilian or regular?" She asks, and you laugh.
“Regular, sorry to disappoint,” you say, and she raises a brow, waving her hands like a typical Italian.
“Hey, Italian is Italian,” she says before leaning in close and whispering. “But Sicilian is better,” she winks.
You both laugh, and you lean back against the kitchen island. “I’m gonna get changed before I cook anything,” she tells you. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to put the TV on.”
You wander around her house, looking at the array of family photos and smiling. You didn’t have many photos in your house; a lot of them got lost in the divorce, too.
“See anything you like?” She asks as she bounds down the stairs. Her hair is in a ponytail now, and she has changed into sweatpants and a very tight tank top. Her Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt hangs open by her sides.
“Actually, yeah,” you say, and she blushes, looking away. You made Melissa Schemmenti blush. And you feel so proud.
“So I’m thinking I can make a creamy mushroom tagliatelle if you like?” She suggests, and it sounds amazing.
“Yeah, sounds great, Mel.” She smiles at you before heading back to the kitchen.
“Can I help with anything?” You ask, and she shakes her head, no.
“Go sit and look pretty while I cook,” she tells you, and now you’re blushing. You can’t help but notice how good she looks with her hair up. How easy it would be to walk over and kiss her neck.
“You think loud,” she says as she chops mushrooms.
“You look good with your hair up,” you tell her. “You should do it more often.”
“Oh, one of the first things I do when I get home is bra off, hair up,” she says, and she catches you checking to see if she’s taken her bra off.
She smirks. “So, y/n. What are we doing tomorrow night?” She asks, and you laugh.
“What, you’re trying to steal me away every night this week?” You ask. “What are we, besties now?”
“We could be,” she says, but you hope there’s more to the sentence. “There’s wine in the fridge if you want a glass.”
“Ms Schemmenti, are you trying to get me drunk again?” You ask playfully, and she grins, blushing. She is so cute when she blushes.
“Drunk, no. Buzzed, maybe,” she smirks.
You go to the fridge, and you pick up a bottle of Moscato. “My favourite,” you tell her. “Where are the glasses?”
She comes up to you and presses you against the counter; your bodies touching as she tiptoes to reach the high cupboard above you. Her perfect breasts nearly touch your face as she reaches, and she pulls down two wine glasses. “Here,” she says with a smile.
She knows exactly what she’s doing to you, and it’s torture. The woman is evil, the devil, and perfect in every way. She can tell you are flustered now, and she bites her lip, stirring the pasta sauce.
Your hands shake as you pour the wine, and when you hand her the glass, her eyes go wide.
“Jesus, kid,” she laughs. “That’s like half a bottle in one glass. Now whose trying to get who drunk?”
“Oops,” you say, having filled both glasses almost to the brim. Melissa shakes her head, taking a large swig of the drink.
“You better drink it all, it’s the good stuff.”
You sip your drink too, and you immediately feel your cheeks flush. It always happens when you drink wine.
“Is it hot in here?” You ask, pulling your shirt away from your body.
“No, but if ya really are hot, I can get ya a change of clothes?” She suggests, and you nod.
“Please, I think I’m having a wine flush,” you say, and she laughs, shaking her head. She turns down the heat on the sauce and disappears, coming back with a very Melissa-coded outfit for you. Grey sweatpants with red stars on them, and a white tank top.
“Here, you can play dress up as me,” she jokes.
“Where can I get changed?” You ask, and she looks at you. “You can change here if you want, I won’t look.”
You feel yourself flush again, but Melissa goes back to cooking. You unbutton your shirt and fold it neatly, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Melissa staring at you in your bra. She looks away quickly as you start to unzip your pants. You pull them off, and while you are trying to untangle your pants from your shoes, Melissa looks over and notices the damp patch between your legs. She nearly drops the spoon in the sauce.
“Um, this is almost ready,” she says, trying to remain composed. You pull on the sweatpants and put your own pants on the pile of clothes.
“Great, I’m starving,” you admit. She looks over at you and nods approvingly, and you notice her skin is flushed, too.
“You should wear tight tank tops more often,” she smirks.
Dinner is amazing. And you wouldn’t expect anything less from the Sicilian queen herself. You help her clean the dishes, and then you get comfy on her couch.
“So like, are they all fucking each other at the same time?” You ask as you watch Love Island.
“Some of them are, yeah,” Mel says, popping some popcorn into her mouth.
“Huh,” you say, reaching into the popcorn bucket and accidentally grabbing her hand. You both look at one another, and then you pull away.
“Sorry,” you blush. Mel is about to say something to you when your phone rings. “I have to take this,” you say.
Melissa can only hear parts of your conversation.
“Look in the freezer for something to eat, it’s really not that hard. Yes, there is food at home. I know because I did groceries on Sunday. Listen, you know how to cook. I’m not spending money on takeaway again,” you say, sighing. “Yeah, I’ll be home soon.”
Melissa feels a wave of jealousy as she hears you tell someone else you’re coming home to them. She didn’t realise.
“Everything okay, hon?” She asks, and you run your fingers through your hair.
“Yeah, just a problem at home apparently,” you say. “Why are men so useless?” You ask her.
“Hey, dinner was amazing,” you tell her as you lean over the couch to kiss her cheek, as she did to you the night before. “I’ll wash these clothes and get them back to you.”
“Keep 'em,” Mel says. “You look good.”