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When Mustang had first asked her if she had plans Friday night, Riza had stupidly thought he meant for a date. He was always flirtatious—with everyone—so she’d given a cautious “No,” before he said, “Great! That makes five. Can you ask Catalina if she wants to come?”
“Sure. And now that I’ve already sealed my fate, where are we going?” Pushing down her disappointment, she went back to prepping the mats for the cheer team’s practice. The cheer captain, Winry Rockbell, was already there helping, but Riza always made sure they’d been cleaned properly by the students who used them before.
“Laboratory Three. Some of the students dared Havoc to go.” Mustang chortled to himself. “Everyone knows he’s an easy scare. The kids want him to wear a camera and everything, so Fuery is coming to help with the tech stuff—”
“I’m not following,” she said. “What’s Laboratory Three?”
“That haunted house—err, laboratory—downtown. It’s where they used to conduct experiments on prisoners back before they made laws about that kind of thing.”
“It’s really fun, Coach!” Winry said, not even pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping. “The line’s long, and it’s a bit pricey, but it’s really well done. I went last year.”
Riza pursed her lips. “I’ve never been to a haunted house.”
“You have so,” Mustang said. “Remember the little one they had at the festival the summer I worked for your dad?
Riza blushed, more because Winry was trying not to giggle. “That doesn’t count. It was more of a haunted hallway than a house.”
“All right, but it’s like that hallway but a thousand times more entertaining.”
“If you say so. Probably just as scary, and by that, I mean not at all.”
“You’ll definitely scream at least once.”
“I doubt it.”
“I bet you fifty dollars you do.”
Riza paused, recalling how Winry had said it was pricey. Riza was a first-year teacher. She didn’t make a lot. She also knew she wasn’t much of a screamer. In fact, if anyone tried to scare her, she was more worried she’d punch them.
“I’ll take that bet,” she said, shaking his hand. She looked at Winry. “Bets are bad. Do as I say, not as I do.”
Winry laughed and trotted away to greet one of the youngest members of the team, ninth-grader Mei.
“Okay, I’ll text you the details,” Mustang said, pulling out his phone. “We’re going to try and carpool since it’s hard to find parking downtown.”
And it did feel kind of like arranging a date, though not how Riza had hoped. Then he waltzed off, though not before reminding some of the girls about a test in his chem class that same Friday as their outing. The girls groaned, but as soon as he left she heard them giggling.
“Mr. Mustang is so cute. Is he your boyfriend, Coach?” asked Mei.
“No. We are just friends,” she replied, using the stern teacher voice required for when students wanted to get a little too personal.
“He is totally into you,” Winry said, hefting a mat into the right position on the gym floor. “He would’ve just had Coach Havoc ask you otherwise.”
“All right, get started on your warmups before I add extra jumps today,” Riza said, putting an end to the conversation. It shouldn’t have surprised her that teenagers would take such interest in her lack of love life, but it always did.
#
That night, Riza was added to a confusing group text—mostly because she only had Mustang’s number until she managed to add Rebecca’s to it. She bribed Rebecca to come along by agreeing to judge for the forensics tournament the next weekend.
It was in the group text that Havoc, the other PE teacher, decided it was necessary to wear costumes to be in the spirit of Halloween.
And that’s how Riza found herself freezing outside her apartment waiting for a ride without a coat, just a silky red hooded cape on top of a warm black sweater and leggings. She could have tried harder, but costumes could get expensive and she already had the cape from her college days. The rest of the costume was much too racy for a teacher to be seen wearing in public.
Right on time, Mustang pulled up in his black crossover.
“Am I the first one you’re picking up?” she asked, sliding into the front seat.
“Uh, yeah, Breda decided to drive himself. The rest are in Havoc’s monstrous SUV.”
“I hope it wasn’t too out of the way.”
“No, your place is on the way. It was no trouble.”
Riza furrowed her brow. She thought he’d said he lived in the Mulberry Heights area, which was in the opposite direction.
“So I take it you’re Little Red Riding Hood?” he asked.
She laughed self-consciously. “Yes. I didn’t try very hard.”
“It looks nice,” he said. “And I didn’t try hard either.”
She squinted at him in the dark. He wore a white polo with sunglasses hooked over where it buttoned, although the buttons were undone.
“So who are you?” His hair was combed neatly to the side, much tidier than the careless way he usually wore it.
“Jordan Belfort. The Wolf of Wallstreet.”
Riza laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence. We almost match,” she said, tugging at her cape. “What made you choose that?”
“I finally watched the movie last weekend,” he admitted. “Years behind everyone else.”
“I saw it in college during a Leonardo Weekend,” with a date who was a total douche. He’d loved the movie and thought Leonardo DiCaprio’s character had all the right ideas. He’d called her a bitch when she refused to even kiss him goodnight.
“Some of it seemed a little gratuitous, but it was good for distracting me from grading papers.”
“I would commiserate, but I don’t have that many papers to grade.”
“But you have to deal with all the stinky teenagers,” he said. “That’s a huge sacrifice.”
“The real sacrifice is after hours for all the coaching.”
“That can be a time suck,” he said. “I have just a few students in Chemistry Club and it’s still exhausting.”
“Probably because you have Edward Elric trying to blow up the school.”
“One time, and it didn’t exactly blow up—it was just very loud. All protocols were followed,” he defended sheepishly. “He’s smart, but so reckless.”
“Or maybe all chemists get a bit crazy.”
“I don’t get crazy.”
“I remember hearing about you setting fire to my father’s—”
“That was accidentally on purpose…and I didn’t know he’d told you that.”
Mustang had worked for her father before he died. Mustang had had so much potential, but he’d decided he’d be happier teaching. As his mentor, her father had been heartbroken. Riza had broken his heart first, being completely inept at the sciences. That bond had kept them distantly in touch over social media until her father died.
Mustang had helped pay for the funeral, and a few years later had been the reference that helped her snag the teaching position she had now. She owed him a lot, so it didn’t feel right to ask for anything more. Like a date.
#
The rest of the drive downtown was filled with easy conversation that never had a lull. Mustang was great at engaging people, which is why he did so well at explaining advanced chemistry concepts to students, while Riza was grateful she rarely had to do anything close to lecturing like other teachers.
Arriving at Laboratory Three, it became clear Riza had underestimated what kind of experience it would be. The line to get inside was around the block, and actors paraded around as deranged criminals with fake weapons being chased by blood-soaked doctors. There was also a little food truck parked selling hot cider and hot chocolate to keep the crowd warm while they waited.
A text popped up just as they were getting out of the car—and Riza realized she should have sacrificed beauty for function because it was cold. Shivering, she read the text aloud to Mustang.
“Rebecca just texted: students crashed our night out. Nobody get the spiked cider.”
Mustang sighed. “I’m not surprised. They did dare Havoc to do it in the first place.”
“And the cheer team heard us making plans,” she said, leaving out their assumptions that it was a date.
Central Amestris High’s teachers were outnumbered by students, two to one. Winry was there with Edward Elric who Riza had forgotten was her boyfriend, along with his little brother. Also stuck with a younger sibling was Ling with Mei, and he’d also brought his girlfriend Lan Fan, as well as several students Riza didn’t have in her classes. All of them were dressed in costumes.
Havoc was grumbling to his audience as Fuery strapped the camera to his chest.
“Fuery’s going to have to edit out a lot of swearing,” Mustang whispered in her ear.
“Does he have permission to film in there?” she asked.
“Yes, since it’s going to be filming mostly his face, they allowed it. And the fact that they will probably get a lot of business from students after word gets out.”
“Mustang! Hawkeye! You made it,” Breda said, slapping Mustang heartily on the back. He was dressed in a bear onesie that usually Riza would say was ridiculous, but with how chilly it was, she wished she owned one.
“Ooo, did Mr. Mustang and Coach arrive together?” Riza heard one of the girls titter.
“Shut it,” Rebecca hollered, pulling Riza next to her in line while Mustang went to poke fun at Havoc who had dressed as the Joker. “What is Mustang supposed to be, anyway? An 80s dirtbag?”
“Close. The guy from Wolf of Wallstreet,” Riza said.
“Oh, so he’s the wolf to your Little Red? Did you plan that?”
“Of course not. Like I need to give these vultures more fodder to harass me about.”
“Hmm, yes. I thought I could get a little buzzed before we went in, but looks like we have to do this sober.”
Riza shivered, tucking her cape around her and leaning into her friend who had wisely chosen to be Bellatrix Lestrange. Her long dress blended nicely with her black blazer.
“I might get some hot cider,” Riza said. “Spiked or not, I’m cold.”
Just as she turned, Mustang appeared holding two cups.
“Cider or hot chocolate?” he asked. “I like both, so you can choose whichever.”
She turned pink and accepted the cider. She determinedly did not look at the students behind her in line.
When they finally arrived to the front, thirty minutes later, Mustang sneakily paid for her ticket while she was digging in her purse.
“I invited you, and I know what it’s like being on a new teacher’s salary,” he said.
If it weren’t for the very logical excuses, she would say it sounded like they were on a date. Then again, he was always confident and direct. He would have just asked her outright.
“And you can always pay me back when I win our bet,” he said. Right. This was definitely not a date.
“Lead the way, Havoc!” Breda crowed, giving the other man a shove to the entrance.
“Follow me, gang. Don’t let Scooby or Shaggy get separated from us,” Havoc said. It was only then Riza noticed Fuery was dressed in a very minimalist Scooby Doo costume. Her lips twitched, but she held back the laugh.
The start of the haunted house was a simple door, but behind it was nothing but darkness. It was an elevator, she belatedly put together.
“Welcome to Laboratory Three,” a monotone voice said over a speaker. “Established in 1866 as an asylum and research center, the laboratory soon became known for its cruel and deadly experiments on prisoners from the local penitentiary. Even after the experiments and asylum were shut down in 1890, the research center was plagued by misfortune. A fire almost destroyed the second floor, killing two doctors. All of the windows were shattered in a windstorm, and a woman was murdered—in this very elevator—by a vengeful lover.”
“A history lesson, how nice,” Rebecca said mildly.
“But the greatest danger to our guests tonight is the ghost of Barry the Chopper. Barry was a serial killer who dismembered his victims and sold their meat in his butcher shop. Rather than face his execution, Barry was killed after years of experiments on his brain here at Laboratory Three. His ruthless ghost still lingers here. If you see a man in a mask with a bloody blade, run as fast as you can, or be chopped to bits.”
“Scared, Hawkeye?” Mustang whispered. “One scream, and you owe me fifty.”
Goosebumps ran down her back. “If you scream, do I get double?” she countered.
He huffed, but went silent as the door finally opened, releasing them into a dimly lit hallway.
Up ahead, she heard Havoc’s voice growing shrill.
“I know something’s gonna jump out at me, I just know it. Where the fu—frick is it?”
“I don’t think Havoc likes being the leader,” Rebecca commented.
“The caboose isn’t any better,” Mustang said, pressing in closer behind Riza. “I feel like someone’s—” An actor dressed as a bloodied prisoner screeched and disappeared behind a hidden nook. ”Jesus! Shit! I knew they were following me.”
Riza laughed. “It’s not real, Mustang.”
“Real enough!”
Their argument stopped as a scene unfolded ahead, and Havoc began stringing together a list of curses as a mad doctor took a knife to a helpless, crying prisoner strapped to a table.
“Is someone behind me again?” Mustang snarled, and he was holding her cape, shuffling closer. “Hawkeye, check—do you see anyone?”
Rolling her eyes, she turned to see. “Nobody there.”
There was totally someone there.
A moment later they hissed in his ear.
“Damn it! Fuck! Stop it!” he muttered to himself, still clinging to Riza’s cape.
Ahead, Rebecca was laughing her ass off, sounding very much like the deranged witch she was dressed as. Mustang and Havoc would never live this down.
Riza could admit to herself she was having a good time. She found the scenes of gore and pain interesting, and she appreciated the dedication of the actors who followed and jumped and screamed at them around every corner.
She especially enjoyed Havoc’s squeals of terror, and Mustang cursing at himself every time something spooked him, which was often. She offered to trade places with him because he seemed to hate being followed, but he refused.
“I am a man of science. I know this is just my fight or flight response. And mine is apparently flight.” He didn’t sound embarrassed, like a lot of men would. Perhaps because he was in good company with Havoc who was scared shitless.
“My response is definitely fight,” Riza said. She felt tense, almost in a good way, but she worried one wrong scare from an actor would result in her reflexively punching them.
It took about ten minutes to make it through the top floor, and the finale was Barry the Chopper. At first, he was angry inside a cell, tied to an exam table. A moment later it went pitch black and silent except for loud sound effects of clanking and howling.
The lights turned on, glowing red, and Barry was right in front of the group, free from his cell. They must have used a body double because no way could he have run that fast. But he waved a bloody butcher’s knife at them, herding them to the stairwell. Havoc scurried ahead, leaving the rest of them in the dust.
“Hey pretty missy, is that your boyfriend?” Barry suddenly asked, his voice much less terrifying than before. Riza looked around before realizing he was addressing her and Mustang.
“No,” she said, bewildered at the sudden question.
“Can I chop him to pieces then?”
“No!” Mustang said indignantly as Riza shrugged.
“He looks like a bleeder.”
“I am not.”
“I might consider not chopping him if you give me your number,” Barry said.
Riza stiffened in annoyance. “Aren’t you working?”
“Yeah, but you are the one who’s really—working it. If you know what I mean. You look mighty fine, Red.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t pick up guys at haunted houses.”
Then she grabbed Mustang by the arm, pulling him down the stairs. The others had left them behind while she was busy shaking off Barry.
“I’ll find you later!” Barry yelled. “Wait for me!”
“Not very professional,” Mustang said irritably.
“I know. The workplace, no matter where you work, is really not the time to be hitting on people. But a place like this is especially bad.”
“Uh, yeah. Bad idea,” he said.
Mustang wriggled his arm free from her grasp. She inwardly cringed. She’d forgotten she was holding it. He probably thought she was as relentless as Barry.
Luckily, she was saved from the awkwardness by a loud bang, followed by the lights dimming down again.
“I can’t tell if I hate or love this place,” Mustang said, inching closer to her again. “Is someone following us? I thought I heard something.”
“They will if they hear you say that.” She had noticed the actors liked targeting the ones who were most obviously afraid. Havoc and Mustang had been taking most of the attention.
The next room had an actor dressed in charred makeup, as if they had suffered horrible burns, and they groaned pitifully as they opened the door, ushering Riza and Mustang inside a fog-filled room. The smoke machine was working well because between the reddish lights and the fog, she couldn’t begin to guess the way out. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her.
She was contemplating a strategy of following the wall until they found an exit when another burn victim came running at them from the fog.
Mustang shouted and she heard him scamper away as the victim chased after him, clearly delighted to have someone to spook properly. Riza rolled her eyes in amusement, hurrying to keep up, but it only took a minute for her to understand the actor had herded him away on purpose, as another actor tried to spook her into heading the opposite way of where the emergency exit sign was. From somewhere ahead she heard a shriek that sounded like Havoc. Sighing, she decided to play along. Mustang probably wanted some space from her, anyway, putting a clear coworker boundary between them. They would have to regroup at the end of the maze.
Five minutes later, she heard the familiar laughter of her students, followed by playful screams. God, she had to get out of there before the kids caught up to her. She had reached the point where the actors were helpfully pointing the right way as they groaned and thrashed at their posts. Occasionally she heard Mustang yelling and cursing as something jumped out at him. She decided to wait for him to catch up before heading to the exit.
“Hawkeye!” a breathless voice came from behind her. It was Mustang. “Sorry, I lost you there.”
“No problem. The scariest thing in here is our students.”
“Ha! Yeah.” He grabbed at her cape. “Maybe we should hold hands or something, so we don’t get separated again.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “I guess?”
“Maybe you didn’t mind, but I don’t like being terrorized by these sadistic haunted house employees.”
An actor made a point of giggling softly before screaming directly behind them.
“Sadistic, I said!” he yelled, groping for Riza’s hand. His larger fingers made hers feel dainty and small as he squeezed around it. She decided not to tease him about how clammy it was.
“Time to die!” a raging voice shouted, waving a bloody knife as he jumped from the stairwell’s entrance. Barry had returned. “And can I have your number?” he added in his normal voice.
“Nope,” she said, marching past him into the stairwell. Barry visibly slumped.
“Well, I tried,” he said. He closed the door behind them.
The stairwell had a safe feeling to it—probably because they didn’t want anyone falling down the stairs.
“I guess the rest of them got tired of waiting for us,” she said. She checked her phone. No one had texted.
“I’ve heard the last floor is the scariest,” Mustang said warily. Based on the screams that could be heard coming from the other side of the door, that was true.
“Just don’t go running off when they chase you. They love that,” she said.
He nodded. “Stupid sadistic fuckers.”
“Oh, the ground is kind of…squishy in here,” she said, slipping through some scraps of fabric hanging from the ceiling. And it was getting darker. And darker. A trail of red lights on the floor were soon the only way to know which way to go.
“I can’t see a thing,” he said. “Get away from me, you—shit! I hear you breathing! Stop it!”
Another mad giggle and a shriek, and Mustang was practically on top of her. She could only laugh, though her senses were alive and on edge, too.
“What is this?” she asked, fumbling in the dark. Things were hanging from the ceiling, roughly the size of a large punching bag, except they felt…lumpy. Soft.
“Freaking corpses or something,” Mustang whispered. “Ugh! They feel nasty!”
“Don’t touch them, then.”
“They’re touching me!” he insisted. She tugged on his hand. “If you leave me here, Hawkeye, I will never forgive you.”
She snorted. “You’re the one who left me earlier!”
“I thought you were right behind me.”
After stumbling through the hanging things, they reached a sturdier floor. Still, she could see nothing but the dim red lights leading the way. She couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her face. She thought they had to be about done when suddenly there was a rumbling roar—and two headlights flashed at them.
While logically she knew it wasn’t a car racing through the building straight at them, she froze stiffly in place, glaring at the fucking thing. She would not scream.
Beside her, she physically felt Mustang’s whole body jump and flail.
“Motherfucker!” he said, grabbing her in the once again pitch-dark hallway. “That scared the bejeezus out of me.”
“And I think they took our picture,” she said.
“Please don’t buy it.”
“Oh, I totally am. With that fifty bucks you owe me.”
He groaned into her shoulder, hiding his face. “I am not going to open my eyes again until we are out of this hellhole,” his voice was muffled.
“Fine, fine,” she said, shuffling forward with a smile. He felt nice against her back. He also freed up both her hands for making it out of the darkness by just holding her stomach loosely, politely. That was nice, too. He was muscular, chest broad and flat—
Then she crept through the last of the actors and obstacles, into the cold fresh air, and Mustang let go of her. He sank against the brick wall with relief.
“Well, that was fun,” he said. “Where are the dickheads who left us behind?
“Getting spiked drinks, I bet.”
“You want any before we go?”
Before she could answer, the door burst open beside them, and a small group of their students spilled out. Riza’s eyes caught on one of her most athletic students, Lan Fan, who was hunched over oddly. Her usually goofy boyfriend was digging frantically through her bag, and the others hadn’t noticed yet.
“Oh no. She has asthma,” Riza said. She knew every student with asthma by heart.
Mustang was on his way over before she could make her feet move. Riza hurried to his side, but changed direction and went to help Ling instead as Mustang already had it under control. He had Lan Fan sitting down, talking in a soothing voice.
“Ling’s getting your inhaler, hang on. You’ll be just fine,” he promised.
Ling had dumped the entire contents of Lan Fan’s bag on the pavement, panicked, but Riza knew something as important as an inhaler might not be loose with everything else in a girl’s purse.
“It’s probably in a pocket. Give it,” she ordered, taking it from the teen. In a zipper pocket inside the lining of the bag, Riza found the inhaler and let Ling rush it to his girlfriend.
“Just give her some space now,” Riza said, nudging the other students away. On duty or not, they were her students, and it was her job to look out for them. She started picking up Lan Fan’s belongings and putting them back in the bag.
Ling sat beside Lan Fan, arm around her shoulders, while Mustang made sure her breathing was going back to normal. Of course he’d had first aid training, and he did a lot of sports, so he knew what to do just as well as Riza.
She listened as Mustang continued to put both teens at ease. He was so good at it, too. No wonder he was such a popular teacher.
“Was it that car near the end?” Mustang asked.
“Yes,” Lan Fan said hoarsely. “I was laughing—at Ling and Ed. Ed literally jumped onto Ling’s back.”
“I hope they caught it on camera. I’ll want a copy of that,” Mustang said.
“Don’t make me laugh again,” Lan Fan said, leaning closer to her boyfriend.
“So the real reason you never laugh at my jokes in class is because it could give you an asthma attack, right?”
“No, your jokes just suck,” Ling quipped.
“Your grade in my class is a joke,” Mustang countered, clearly teasing. Ling was a top honor student.
After she was breathing normally again, Lan Fan called her grandfather, owning to the incident, and Riza and Mustang felt comfortable leaving to drop by the gift shop where they could buy a copy of their picture or souvenirs.
“They’re going to revoke my membership at the Brave Men Club. That’s full scared-shitless mode right there,” Mustang said, studying the photo of the two of them on the screen. “And you have murder eyes, Hawkeye. Were you going to punch that car?”
“Only for you,” she said, swiping the screen to select three copies. One for her, one for him, and one for the teacher’s lounge. She also snagged copies of Havoc and the Elrics’ groups. Overpriced, but worth every penny. She’d laughed so hard at them all, her stomach hurt.
“Did you get a text from the others? I feel like they didn’t care if we never came out of that hellish experience.”
Riza pulled out her phone at the same time Mustang did. There were a few messages in the group text mentioning they were leaving at eleven because they were all freezing their asses off.
It was half past eleven now. They were long gone.
Riza excused herself to the bathroom, and inside she bumped into Lan Fan and Winry.
“I hope I didn’t ruin your date,” Lan Fan said quietly as Riza washed her hands. “Thank Mr. Mustang for helping me, okay?
“Oh. It wasn’t a date,” Riza corrected. “But I will.”
“If it wasn’t a date, you should ask him out,” Winry chimed in. “You two would be so sweet together.”
“Hmm, thanks for the advice. Now you guys get home safe, okay?”
And it was her fate to be the subject of her bored students’ imaginations, because as she left the bathroom, she could hear loudly what was being said in the men’s room.
“Havoc and Catalina?” Ling asked.
“Nah. I don’t see it.”
“Mustang and Hawkeye?” Ling followed up. Riza hesitated outside the door, brow furrowed.
“Yes, or if not already, he’s definitely going to fuck her soon,” Edward’s voice said confidently, amusement in his tone.
“I don’t know,” came his brother’s much quieter voice.
“Al! Do you have eyes?” Ling asked. “They have been eye fucking each other all night.”
That was enough for Riza. She beelined it to Mustang, heart racing with embarrassment. She was never going out with a male coworker in public again.
#
As they walked back to his car, the conversation came easily to them again.
“Were you even scared at all?” he asked. “Or just angry?”
“Maybe startled is more the right word?” she suggested. “And I didn’t like fumbling in the dark, but I knew I was safe, so I wasn’t exactly scared.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “I can see that. Me? I was scared, straight up. I felt like I was being hunted.”
“They were definitely hunting you. You scare too easy.”
“I am man enough to admit it.”
“But when it counts, you’re not afraid,” she said, wanting to say something on the subject. “You were so good with Lan Fan. I was impressed.”
“I don’t know if I’m always brave when it counts, but I try,” he said quietly, stopping behind his car. He looked at her, smiling gently, and she felt a frisson of excitement. Like something was about to happen.
Like he would kiss her. Or wanted her to kiss him?
But he merely opened his trunk and pulled out an old quilt. The disappointment was crippling. Perplexing. Where had that tension come from?
“It’s cold. Thought you might want this for the ride.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Halfway home, she received a text from Rebecca.
RC: All the guys have a bet that you and Mustang are either going to hook up tonight or you’ll turn him down flat. Which is it so I can have the advantage? I don’t want to lose money.
RH: He hasn’t done anything.
RC: Do you want something to happen?
RH: Maybe.
She wanted it so bad she could taste it. Wanted the students’ teasing to be true. Wanted to go on dozens of other dates where they had stupid fun. Wanted to meet him in his classroom at the end of the day and go home together. Why was it so hard for her to just ask him if he was into her?
RC: He’s a total chickenshit, so you should probably just unzip his pants and suck his dick until he figures out you like him.
RC: wait
RC: you could be sucking dick all night with how obtuse he is. Don’t do it.
RH: I wasn’t going to.
RH: So you think he’s interested?
RC: You two idiots belong together
RC: He arranged it so you two drove there alone. He paid for your ticket. He conveniently ended up right behind you so he could stay close to you all night. Do I have to spell it out any clearer?
RH: If I make an ass of myself, you can forget about me judging for that stupid forensics thing.
RC: Good luck! I’m betting on you hooking up, so don’t disappoint me!!
Riza’s heart thrummed in her chest, her hands felt sweaty. Maybe he still saw her as a little girl four years younger than him. Or maybe he preferred her as a friend. She knew she could be distant, but she’d tried to push that aside with him. She dropped by his classroom to ask questions about the employee handbook just to talk to him, even though the school had assigned her a mentor teacher for those very questions. The idea that he didn’t know she was interested seemed impossible. But maybe he didn’t. She had to be sure. Now how could she do this without ruining their friendship if Rebecca was wrong?
It was only when they were close to Riza’s building that she realized that she hadn’t said a word to him since the text. But she did at least have an idea on how to do this without making it awkward for him. It was a tried and true excuse.
“Um, I’m not really tired, are you?” she asked, admiring the way his biceps stretched as he made the turn onto her street.
“Between Laboratory Three and Lan Fan’s asthma attack, I’m actually feeling insanely awake.”
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Did it sound as obvious to him as it did to her?
“I could be up for that,” he said lightly. That was a good sign. He had to know what that was code for.
She wiped her sweaty hands on her leggings, then neatly folded up the quilt she’d draped across her while the car warmed up. Tingles ran up and down from her core to her breasts in anticipation of just the possibility she was finally going to do something about her lengthy crush on Mustang.
Walking up the stairs to her apartment with him closely behind, she was painfully aware of his presence. Her legs trembled, breath coming a little faster than it usually did when she climbed the stairs.
“Thank you again, for inviting me,” she said as she unlocked the door. She tried to hide the fact that her hands were shaking so hard she missed the lock.
“I’m just glad you came,” he said.
God, he was standing so close.
She opened the door and was greeted by a sleepy yawn from Black Hayate as he stretched, turned in a circle in his bed and went right back to sleep. Good. Nothing like a small dog climbing onto them to kill the mood.
And she wanted the mood to be perfect.
Her apartment was small, a one bedroom with a kitchen counter that doubled as a table as there was no dining area. It also meant she had little room for furniture and her living room had only a single couch and a tiny, uncomfortable armchair. It wouldn’t be that strange to cozy up to him on the couch.
She untied her silly cape and hung it on the hook behind the door. She was ready to be out of costume. Likewise, Mustang had removed his sunglasses prop in the car and untucked his white polo. He looked comfortable as he settled onto her couch between her throw pillows, and she had to hide a pleased grin.
“Want something to drink?” she asked, thinking she would need liquid courage. “I have some apple ale I bought to get into the fall season.”
“Sure, thanks.”
She popped two bottles open and brought them over, taking a swig herself before folding herself up beside him. Close enough their thighs touched.
“What are you in the mood to watch?” she asked, clutching the cold ale like it would bolster her nerves. Her other hand was on the remote, flicking open the menu.
“What have you been watching on Netflix? Let me see your queue.”
Riza turned to him. “So you can judge me?”
“So I can get an idea of what we could watch.”
She fought back a wave of frustration. She didn’t want to watch anything at all. She wanted Mustang to kiss her. Why was this so difficult? She’d never been left hanging like this with a guy. If she invited them in, even if she meant it casually, most of them assumed it was for sex. Then again, she reflected, had any of those guys been a friend? It had always been unmistakably a date beforehand.
Rebecca had called him obtuse. Or maybe he was just playing it safe. A chickenshit, as Rebecca had also said.
“Actually, before we pick something, I had some gossip to share with you.”
He turned toward her, his eyes entirely black in the lamplight. He waggled his eyebrows.
“Oh really?”
“I heard the boys talking at the gift shop.” The little shits. She was at least going to use the story to her advantage if she could.
“Probably Ed and Ling, am I right?”
“Yeah,” she squeezed her beer tighter. It was already half gone from nerves. “They were trying to guess which teachers were fucking.”
He froze for a moment before recovering. “Really? Who?”
“Havoc and Rebecca, for one.”
“Havoc wishes.”
“The boys agree with you,” she said. “And they also brought up…you and me.” And there it was, her final play. She watched him carefully, but his expression remained almost unnaturally blank. Her stomach churned with nervous anticipation.
“And—and what did they think?”
“They said we were already fucking.” She put her hand on his knee. There was no mistaking her interest now. “Or you were going to fuck me soon.”
Mustang swallowed loudly. His eyes darted to her hand on his knee.
“So, if everyone thinks we’re fucking anyway…” she trailed off. He was still not moving. “Roy? I am not sure how much blunter I can—”
His mouth devoured hers, mixing lips and tongues and passion. Finally. He tasted like the ale, but she loved it, which reminded her they were still holding the bottles, and they both fumbled to set their drinks down. Then they were kissing again—so good it made her breathless and dying to get naked.
“I have been getting mixed signals since you started teaching,” he panted, hands circling up to where her sweater had inched up. She arched into the touch, and she began to worry she was soaking through her leggings with how insanely turned on she was already.
“You were the one who never made a move. You’re Mr. Charisma, I thought you’d ask if you were interested.” She yanked his stupid polo over his head, before stripping her sweater off the rest of the way and pulling him down on top of her.
“You are freakishly intimidating. And we work together. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“I once came by your classroom to ask about how our health savings account worked. I thought I was being so obvious.”
“I thought it was a genuine question,” he grunted, and she felt something hard and thick press against her hip. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. You’re so beautiful. I can’t think straight.”
He shoved her bra down, not bothering to unhook it, and gently squeezed her breasts. She watched as his breath fanned over her naked skin. “Can I?”
“Please, yes,” and she moaned as he mouthed her nipple, sending another gush of wetness to join the mess between her legs. Eventually he reached around and undid her bra, tossing it out of the way and leaving her skin exposed and feverish. He took his time exploring her, thoroughly lavishing her with attention until all of her nerves felt raw and alive.
When she needed more, she ran her hands across his bare shoulders, “Come here.” She kissed him, flexing her legs around him, basking in the stiffness of him against her. She was getting worked up fast, but she didn’t want this to be over so soon, even as part of her was too impatient to stop and relocate to the bedroom.
“Can you take these off?” His hands slipped into the waistband of her leggings.
“Not with you on top of me,” she said. After some awkward twisting, he was now on his back and she stood to peel her leggings and underwear off.
His eyes were hungry as she caught him staring at her nakedness. Any apprehension about what they were about to do faded away at that look. They couldn’t go back to being friendly coworkers after this. The thought thrilled her.
“You look absolutely edible.”
Then he promptly pulled her onto him, and they continued making out like teenagers, with only a little more finesse. She sucked on his lip, resisting the urge to grind down on him.
“I’m going to make a mess of your clothes,” she finally whispered, trying not to be shy about something she knew most guys were into. She hoped he was one of them.
“I guess we better take them off.” His grin was absolutely lecherous.
“Do you have a condom handy?” she asked. She had some in the bathroom, unused since before student teaching the spring before.
“Yeah, in my wallet, but I don’t want to rush you.”
“I’m more than ready,” she said, reaching for his buckle.
He hummed into her mouth, hips jerking as her fingers tugged the zipper down carefully. It was a little like opening a present. Sure, she knew what she was getting, but seeing it in person was better. And she had a good feeling she was going to love it.
After some wriggling, his cock sprung free into her hand. And she almost gasped in surprise. It wasn’t so much the length as it was how thick it was, and hard.
“Oh god,” she whined, stroking him hesitantly. He might split her in two, and she was horrified that the idea only made her wetter.
“I told you,” he panted, hips canting again. “Can’t rush.”
Suddenly she needed to know how it would feel in her mouth. She shimmied down, her purpose made more obvious when his cock bumped into her chin.
“Not to be blunt, but when was the last time you were tested?” She would never do this with a new boyfriend, but Roy was different. She’d known him for years.
“Fuck. Uh, my last physical over the summer. I was clean. And I’ve been—painfully abstinent since my last girlfriend.”
“Painfully abstinent?”
“You’re lucky I’m using English at all.”
“So is it okay if I—?” she wrapped her hand around him.
He nodded vigorously. “Yeah,” his voice cracked.
Her inner vixen always came out when she took a man in her mouth, and the warm, heavy feel of him on her tongue only encouraged her. She swirled her tongue around the tip, sucking, and using her hand to stroke him simultaneously.
“Do you like it a little messy?” she asked, demonstrating with an obscene noise as she took him deeper. He groaned, a completely uninhibited noise from a man lost to sensation.
“You can do anything and I’ll like it.”
Smiling to herself, she took as much as she could before she felt the edge of her gag reflex.
“Do you like it?” He looked down at her with hooded eyelids.
She hummed an affirmative around him, gliding her hand down his thigh and around to herself, pressing her fingers to that nub of nerves that was pulsing relentlessly with need. She couldn’t usually orgasm like this, too self-conscious, but she somehow knew it would be easier tonight.
Roy knew it, too. “You want to come with my cock in your mouth?”
Her eyes widened in surprised pleasure, moaning to let him know to keep talking.
“You’re so wet. I can hear it. Fuck. Your mouth—stretched around me, how much can you take, sweetheart?”
She did her best, but she couldn’t take it all.
“I’ve wanted you—so long. God, I can’t believe how good you feel.”
His words became less coherent, and her concentration burned out as she began touching herself with diligence, putting a couple of fingers inside herself to stretch herself out in preparation for what was certainly going to be a long night.
They’d always had chemistry, banter and teasing, even when she’d been too young for anything like this. She was relieved that their chemistry translated well into a sexual relationship. She was already so comfortable with him. Had she ever touched herself in front of a guy before? Not because he asked but because she was dying to? Maybe there was something to being friends first. She trusted him.
His hand reached up to thread his fingers through her hair, and there was a sweetness to the filth coming from his mouth. He was a puddle of arousal now, because of her.
She gagged only slightly as she squirmed and came, throbbing and swollen around her fingers. She was so ready for him now.
She popped off with a haggard breath as he stared at her, mesmerized.
“I want you in me,” she said, deciding to let him choose the rest. “How do you want—”
His patience was tattered, but he was on a mission. He had a goal in mind, just like she knew he would. He leaned forward, shoving his pants further down his legs and trading places so he was on top again.
“I want to fuck you like this,” he said, rolling her onto her front. He settled behind her, his chest to her back. His cock was against her ass, pulsing enticingly.
“Do it, yes, please.” She pushed her hips toward him, angling herself so her center was more accessible.
His breath was hot on her neck. “Was thinking about this tonight. Wanted to fuck you from behind, feel you take my cock so good.”
“Roy,” she moaned, squirming in an attempt to get him inside her.
“I need to find that damn condom,” he said, leaning back.
“No, just fuck me. I have birth control.”
“Earlier you mentioned a condom,” he said, his hand tracing down her back to her ass. He sounded achingly tempted.
“That was more a way to open the conversation for a health check. I’m on birth control. An IUD.” She raised her hips and clenched down on nothing, searching for something to fill the emptiness that was growing.
“Is that right?” He kissed her ear affectionately. “You just want to feel me come inside you that bad, huh?”
“Shut up, of course I do,” she whined. “You’re not the only one who has been wanting this a long time.”
He grinned against her shoulder. “Oh yeah? How long?”
“You jerk,” but she said it with affection. “I was in high school and you were that sexy college student who worked with my dad.”
“I knew it, you little pervert.” His member twitched against her. “You used to come by wearing wildly short skirts. Did you want me to fuck you, even that long ago?”
Her mindless need had more truth pouring from her.
“Yes, and I want it even more now. Hurry up.”
“I want to savor this,” then finally, finally, he bent her forward just so and he leaned forward. She felt the thick head of him, bare and smooth, rub at her entrance. “You’re so wet and ready.”
“For you.” She reminded herself to relax as he eased himself inside, but she cried out as he grabbed her hips, bottoming out in a smooth thrust. She felt so full and embarrassingly stuffed, she could only make an animalistic sound of pleasure as he began to move. Roy dragged out all her inner desires, and she could only writhe desperately beneath the satisfying weight of him. The sinful idea that he wouldn’t let her up if she asked, that he could keep her pinned how he wanted until he was done with her…
She buried her face into the cushion, muffling a scream as she came again, muscles quivering around his cock from the intensity.
His breaths sounded heavier behind her, his thrusts harder and faster.
“This couch is—crowded. Can you—” He nudged her to her knees, and he threw a leg off the couch to brace himself.
It was deeper this way, and she held herself up merely because she had a strong workout routine. She barely absorbed the impact of his body slamming into hers, his hands everywhere, like he was trying to touch every part of her before he came.
He finished with a quiet sigh, slumping next to her on the couch in a sweaty heap.
As the sex-driven madness faded, she pulled her afghan over them so they could spoon together for a while to catch their breath. The couch was probably already going to need a bit of clean up, so there was no hurry to move.
“I would just like to say, I’m really sorry if…that got a little…too much,” he said. His usual confidence was missing.
“No?” She snuggled into the crease of his elbow. “It was the best sex I’ve had…maybe ever?”
He relaxed, his arm falling across her stomach, like he had always done this with her.
“Okay, great, because suddenly having you naked and touching my dick kind of destroyed my self-control.” He laughed. “Needless to say, I agree. Best sex of my life.”
“I really liked your way with words. During,” she said, hoping that the next time, he would do it again.
“Yeah?” his voice grew lower, confidence returning. “I’m not even sure what I said. My dick did all the talking.”
“Hmm, your dick has a lot of talents. What else can he do?”
“He can tie a cherry stem in a knot and change a tire in under a minute.”
And the night continued that way, laughing and teasing as they always had, but without that barrier anymore. No more wondering how the other one felt. The unpleasant tension was gone.
After they finally cleaned up, they took her tablet to her room and watched Netflix before they got distracted and had sex again. The night bled into Saturday, and then Sunday, and by the time Monday rolled around, Roy had to leave early to go home and find clean clothes. Most of the weekend they had both been naked and wrapped in blankets, so watching him put on his white polo again was strange.
Between classes, they texted one another, and by the time cheer practice started after school, they had made plans to have dinner together on a proper date.
Winry bounced over with Lan Fan, holding her phone.
“Coach, have you seen this already?” Winry asked.
“It’s so funny, I actually grabbed for my inhaler just in case,” Lan Fan said.
Riza looked at the phone. It was the edited video of Havoc going through Laboratory Three. Fuery had a lot of fun editing it, she’d heard, but she hadn’t had time to watch it during the school day. Somehow Fuery had managed to bleep or cut out all the swearing, even the background ones from Breda.
“I think it’s going viral,” Winry said. “It already has thousands of views.”
“We’ll see,” Riza laughed, watching Havoc yell and grab Breda for protection from an unseen actor coming toward him.
“Forget it! How do I get out of here? I want to leave! This is stupid!” Havoc yelled in the video as bright lights flashed across his face.
“Did you have a good time at the haunted house?” Lan Fan asked when it was done.
“Yes, I did,” Riza said.
Winry grinned brightly. “I told you it was fun, didn’t I?”
“I think the teachers will have to make it a yearly thing,” Riza said. Or at least she and Roy would go again. It was odd to be planning so far ahead after being together for only a weekend, yet she was. Somehow she knew when she went through Laboratory Three again, she could happily say to any actors breaking character that Roy Mustang was her boyfriend. Because maybe he was a chickenshit, but he was hers.