by Ava Harrison
“You’re here looking so fine, and I’m here, and we’re all alone. It can be like old times when I used to fuck you right here, against the concrete wall between classes.” He steps in closer this time.
“That will never happen again.” I scan the side of the building for someone passing, but the only people I see are looking to screw or get stoned, and they don’t even notice I’m here.
“Oh, I think it will.”
He leans in and I smell his tequila-laced breath against my face as he’s about to kiss me. With small movements, I clench my fist and pull my hand back, prepared to hit him. Just as I launch my arm, he’s suddenly jerked back and a fist flies through the air. Matt drops to the ground.
Carson is standing above him. “Are you okay?” he asks, as he looks me over.
“I could have handled him myself,” I bite out, confused by what just happened and why Carson punched him.
“He was going to—”
“Going to what?” My voice shakes from the emotion coursing through me.
“I don’t know. Fuck. He might have . . .”
My body begins to shake uncontrollably as the endorphins from the incident flood my system. “Why do you care?” Tears well in my eyes. I need to get out of here before I cry.
“God, Lynn, please don’t cry right now.” He moves his hand up and it connects softly with my jaw. The warm pads of his fingers caressing my skin makes my jaw rattle as I hold back my sobs. “I thought he was about to hurt you. I know he was. I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”
“Why?”
“Because . . .” He looks down at Matt, who is starting to come awake. “I just—”
A groan emanates from the ground, followed by a series of curses. “What the fuck, man? You’re fucking dead. I’ll have your job for this.”
“I don’t think so,” I say, moving away from Carson and looking over at the lump still on the ground. “You tried to force yourself on me. He was defending me.”
“He’s a fucking teacher! He can’t touch me. Plus, what the fuck? You know you wanted it.”
“No, actually, I didn’t.”
“It’s your word against mine. Let’s see who the school will believe.”
“Actually, it’s your word—a former student who always caused trouble—against a respected teacher, who is also an alumnus of this school, and you’re obviously high right now,” Carson spits out, not even trying to hide the anger in his voice.
“I—” Matt starts and then clamps his mouth shut.
“That’s what I thought.”
SHIT.
I fucking punched a former student. Even though he’s alumni, he was trespassing and he was trying to assault Lynn.
The room is quiet. Other than my footsteps pacing the space, you could hear a freaking pin drop. What’s taking so long?
The door pushes open. Principal Gordon walks in with Matt.
“Carson, take a seat.” He motions to offer me a seat and then turns to the piece of shit Matt and offers him the other one. After we both sit, he takes a seat behind his desk. He looks from side to side at us, obviously trying to discern what went down.
“Someone better start explaining and now.”
“Hepunchedme,” Matt slurs out in word long word, and I smile. Because no matter what this fuck up says, he’s drunk or high, and he has no credibility.
“Look at him, he’s high as a kite. He’s lucky all he got was a punch. He was assaulting a student, trespassed on school grounds. We should call the cops.”
Matt blanches at my comment.
“Start explaining now,” Principal Gordon orders.
“I walked outside to make a phone call, and that’s when I found Miss Adams pushed up against the wall against her will.” I clench my fists. The need to hurt him over and over again for touching her spreads through every nerve in my body.
“That’s not what—” Matt starts to say, but it seems the principal wants nothing to do with his explanation.
“Out of respect for your father, and the fact I don’t want any bad publicity for our school, I’m going to let you leave. But if you ever show up on this property again, I will have you arrested, do you hear me?”
“No way. He can’t get away—”
“That’s enough. I don’t want to hear another word from either of you. Both of you leave my office, and Carson, I’m letting you off with a warning this time. Trespassing or not, you don’t lay your hands on anyone in my school, you hear me?”
We leave the room, and as we walk out the door, I hiss out under my breath so only Matt can hear, “You bother Lynn Adams again, and I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“Not before I ruin you,” he threatens in return.
“Try your best.” My body is still hopped up on adrenaline as I march my way out of the building. Fuck! Where’s Lynn I need to find her, make sure she’s okay? Talk to her. One thing became clear when I caught that douche pawing at her.
No one touches her but me.
I need her. I realize that now.
Fuck what happens. Fuck what anyone thinks. Fuck what’s ethically correct or what’s expected of me.
I’m not letting her go again.
AFTER CARSON PUNCHES MATT, I high tail it right out of the city and straight for East Hampton. I need time to process it all, and to wrap my head around my life. It’s almost too much.
The darkness hovering over the beach is so black that I can’t see the ocean. Behind me the lights from the house flicker but in front of me it’s bleak. I can only feel the water lapping against my feet, smell the salt in the air, and hear the waves crashing in.
If I take a step back and breathe, I can handle it. I’m a survivor. I can endure it all. With a deep inhale, I let it all out: the animosity, the fear, everything from the past few months. I look around me with new eyes. The beach looks as if no time has passed since the last time I was here. But that’s not true.
A lifetime has passed.
And so much has changed.
I hear a cough behind me, and look up to see Carson standing there. The moonlight sparkles off his eyes. There’s a softness in them. They are mesmerizing.
“Hi.” My voice is low and unsure. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His gaze sweeps over me, assessing my wellbeing.
“You came all the way out to East Hampton?”
“I would follow you anywhere, Lynn,” he comments as if the answer is obvious.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “How did you know I would be here?”
“You once told me, the beach in the Hamptons is where you think best, but I would be lying if I said this was the first beach I tried. It’s actually the third. I stopped by a few of the public beaches before it dawned on me that maybe you would come back here.”
My stomach warms with a flutter of butterflies. “What happened with Matt after I left? Will he press charges against you?”
“No, we had a little chat with the principal, and I very clearly informed him of what I saw.”
“And what is it you saw?” I look back out into the blackness in front of me. Reliving that moment hurts me. Even though I told Carson I could handle it, deep inside I know it could have gone in a completely different direction. Carson prevented that.
“I saw a girl saying no to a boy.” He ground the words out through his teeth.
“And what did Matt say to all this?”
“He was still threatening all types of allegations, but I convinced him to shut up.”
“How did you do that?”
“I told him I’d make his life a living fucking hell.”
I turn toward him and see he’s grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you punched him,” I mumble under my breath.
“Do you blame me? I could tell in your movements, in your body language, that you didn’t want him to kiss you.” He looked in my eyes. “To be honest, I would have punched him even if you wanted it.”
; My mouth drops open. I clamp it shut and shake my head at his admission. “No, he deserved it, but I can’t believe you put your job on the line for me.”
“After all this time, you still don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?” The emotion I see in his eyes makes me want to cry.
“I’m crazy about you, Lynn.” My heart flutters with an emotion I have held in for so long. Hope.
“I think you’re just crazy,” I say on a laugh, but everything I’m holding inside pours out as a tear lines my cheek. “Why did you leave me?”
“You have to believe me when I say I never meant to. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to hold you back from your dreams.”
His words confuse me. “My dreams?”
“I saw your application to UCLA. I thought I was holding you back.” There’s a faint tremor in his voice.
“UCLA was never my dream. I only applied because Bridget wanted me to. I wish you had asked me. Spoken to me. Then you wouldn’t have . . .” I pause and my lips begin to tremble. “Why did you go out with . . .” I can’t say her name. Pain still lingers at the thought of them together. “Why did you break my heart?”
“She meant nothing. She was never you. She could never be you. I was trying so hard to do the right thing that I didn’t realize the damage it did to both of us.” He pauses. “I wanted you to have a life. I wanted you to be happy.”
“Without you, Carson?”
“Yes, if you need to be away from me to find yourself. To find your happiness, I would let you go.”
“And now?”
“Now, I’m too selfish.” I shake my head and laugh.
“No, You’re just crazy.”
He steps toward me and lowers himself to the ground next to where I’m sitting. Warm fingers swipe my tears. “No, just crazy for you. I should be stronger and step away until the end of the year, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”
My breath catches in my throat. I have dreamed of him saying these words, but now that he has, I’m shocked. Rendered speechless.
“See that star over there?” He points up to a bright cluster. One shines more than the rest. “That’s Vega. It’s the brightest star in the constellation Lyra. As the story goes, a goddess fell in love with a mortal. They were forbidden to see each other, and thus, they were placed in the sky with an obstacle separating them, only to be reunited once a year. I don’t want to be like them. I don’t want to only see you in passing. I want you, all of you, every day.”
He grabs my hand in his. “I’m sure I fucked up all chances with you, but I can’t let another minute go by without telling you how I feel. I’m a guy who’s falling in love. A guy who doesn’t give a shit about the consequences. Because the idea of going the rest of the year without you feels like a fate worse than death.”
I gaze at him through tear-stained eyes, and hang on every word. I throw myself into his embrace. “What now?” I whisper. “How do we do this?”
He pulls back so my eyes meet his as he speaks. “We try.”
“But what if someone—” One finger lifts to my lips, stopping my words.
“Lynn, stop. Yeah, shit might happen, but together we can get past it. We’ll survive. And this time, if we’re together, we can make it to the other side.”
“You promise?” I lower my gaze but he doesn’t allow it. Instead, he tips my jaw up to meet his steely gaze.
“I do.”
My lips part in a smile. Our mouths meet, and his lips taste like the crisp winter air, hints of coffee and cinnamon lingering on his breath. His fingers gently run up my spine as he deepens the kiss, each pass of his hand coaxing shivers to spread across my skin. The kiss obliterates every doubt I’ve ever had about us.
Because this kiss is a promise of endless possibilities.
WHITE NOISE FILTERS AROUND ME. The pestering sounds of my classmates’ idle chatter become louder and louder as I make my way down the hallway to class. My head swims in the sounds, making it impossible to hear myself think.
I can’t concentrate.
Everything grates on my last nerve.
Flick
Flick
Flick
The buzz of the fluorescent lights makes my eyelids twitch.
Mondays.
Mondays are always like this. But now that I’m finally “officially” in a relationship with Carson, they have gotten worse. Much, much worse. The last two weeks we have spent every free moment together, and every day we fall more and more into a comfortable routine. The only problem is these moments together eventually come to an end, and then I fall from my high into a state of depression because the dreaded Monday comes.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. I don’t acknowledge him.
Sighing deeply, I pull myself out of my thoughts. In order for this week to pass, I can’t dwell. I find when I do I start to come undone. Dr. Young and I have been working diligently on my tendency to self-destruct, but growing up with a mom who sets this example, it’s a hard habit to break. I have to try, though, because this feeling creeping inside my blood isn’t healthy.
I draw in a deep breath and exhale. Only six more months of hiding. I can do this. I have to do this.
With five minutes until first period starts, I walk into the classroom and plop in the chair. I’m the only student here. Not even the teacher has arrived yet. My phone vibrates in my bag, so I pull it out and swipe the screen. My body warms.
Carson: I missed you this morning.
I swear my cheeks flush at the mere thought of waking up to him last weekend. The thought of my eyes fluttering open to the soft touch of his hand, and the way his body melded with mine in sweet perfection. If I could wake up like that every day, I would die a happy person.
Me: Me, too.
Carson: I was wondering what your plans are for Christmas Eve?
Me: Nothing planned, but usually I spend my holiday with Bridge. Why?
Carson: Well, now you have plans with me.
Me: What?
Carson: My place. Just you and me.
Me: That sounds perfect.
Like a lovesick child, I can’t pull my gaze away from the phone. The idea of spending the holiday with Carson has a wonderful heat dispersing inside me. Images of cooking and celebrating together play out in my mind. I can’t help the flutter that spreads inside my belly. After everything that’s occurred over the last few months, spending so much time with him sounds amazing.
I hear a cough from the front of the room and realize the teacher has begun her lesson. From the look of the smart board, I haven’t missed much. I’m not sure what she’s speaking about, and it’s quite obvious to her that I, in fact, am not paying attention. I’m so distracted, it’s a surprise she hasn’t called me out on it. But she has. The cough.
I replace my phone and pull my attention back to the lecture, but instead, thoughts of Carson in his own classroom—my old classroom—play out in my mind. What’s he wearing? His usual casual yet trendy ensemble? Is his signature smolder lacing his breathtakingly perfect face? Are his blue eyes hard, as though he won’t take shit from anyone?
Carson always looks pissed when he stands up there, as though he’s angry at the world, and I wonder if he still holds himself in such a manner when he teaches, or if the snarl was only for me. A small groan slips out, and I clamp my hand over my mouth to stifle it. It most definitely was just for me. Since I won’t be in his class ever again, I’ll never know, but the idea still has me thinking back to a time in the past, and all the feelings it manifested in me.
“Miss Adams.” The words drift into my subconscious. Shit. I did it again.
“So sorry.”
“Do you even know what I asked?” Her eyebrow lifts up. “Do we need to talk about this after class?” It’s obvious what she’s really asking. She’s asking if I’m falling back into old habits.
“No.” I shake my head. “No, I’ll pay attention.” I hate that my previous wrongs hang over me like a black cloud, b
ut what did I expect? Getting drunk at school is bad enough. Getting drunk at school and passing out put me in a whole new category of fuckup.
As the teacher continues to drone on, thoughts and ideas pound my brain, screaming at me to lose myself in the confines of my mind.
Recipes. What should we eat?
I need to make a checklist. Okay, a mental checklist.
1) Google recipes.
2) Pick out a sexy outfit.
Shit. Lynn. Pay attention to what the teacher is saying.
Recipes.
I can’t help it. Fuck it. I give up trying.
By the time I head into the lunchroom, I have side dishes and a ham recipe planned.
“Hey, girl,” Bridget says as I plop down in the chair across from her. “We really should have gone off campus to eat today, but alas, I have too much damn schoolwork.” She pulls out her binder and frantically turns the pages.
“Playing catch up, I see,” I chide.
“Lord, yes. Olivia came home from college a few days early and shit, is she needy. All she wants to do is shop.” She winks. I can’t help but laugh. “Speaking of which, dinner is at seven this Thursday.”
“What?”
“Christmas Eve, duh. Obviously, you’re coming over since your mom sucks.” She scrunches her nose. “No. Really. You are coming over, right?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Wait. Is your mom actually going to be a mom and spend a holiday with you?”
I consider what to say. I have yet to tell her about me and Carson getting back together after the beach. It’s still so new, so fresh; I’m not sure I’m ready to tell her—especially since we have to be careful. But if I tell her I’m staying home, she will insist I come to her house again.
“Um . . .” I nibble on my top lip, biting so hard I might draw blood. “I’m meeting her. No biggie. It will suck, but at least I won’t intrude on your family time.” The lie slips from my mouth and I feel horrible, awful, and deplorable, but what else can I do?
“You are never intruding. You’re my best friend. My family loves you as if you are part of the family. You know that, right?”
I nod. “So, what homework do you have? Need help?” I say to change the topic, and her eyes go wide.
