Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance

by Michelle Hercules

  I shoot a text to Robbie, asking if he wants to meet me there for coffee. He replies that he’ll be there in ten. I arrive before him, and to kill time, I send Max a couple of selfies in front of the shop. Bending in the most awkward positions, I try to capture my face and the sign in the same frame, but without a selfie stick, it’s almost impossible to get the right angle.

  “Need help with that?” a voice that still evokes all sorts of wrong feelings asks from behind me.

  Flustered, I almost drop my phone as I spin around with my heart now stuck in my throat. Alistair is standing too close to me in all his six-foot-three hotness, holding a box of donuts.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurt out like I have the right to know.

  I’m such a dumbass.

  He raises an eyebrow, displaying a phantom of a smirk on his lips. “Getting sugar treats for a faculty meeting.”

  What a one-eighty change in attitude. He was furious with me on Monday after he found out I was high. Here he is now acting like the Alistair I fell in love with in Italy. My heart is fluttering like a hummingbird in my chest.

  “Gotcha.”

  He points at the phone in my hand. “Do you need help taking a picture?”

  I want to say no and run away. But that would be stupid as hell. There’s nothing illicit about a teacher offering to help a student out. It’s just an innocent picture.

  “Yes, if you don’t mind. Max loves donuts. I want to make him jealous that I’m about to order the biggest one they have.”

  Alistair gives me a small smile before taking the phone from me, brushing his fingertips against mine in the process. A zing goes up my arm.

  Nonsense, Chiara. You’re imagining things. There’s no such thing as magical, electric touches.

  “What do you want on the picture? The sign?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I stand in front of the shop and strike a lame pose. I can’t relax when Alistair is the one taking the photo. I feel self-conscious and exposed.

  “Come on, Goldilocks. You’re not even trying.”

  My heart skips a beat, and I drop the fake smile. I can’t believe he called me that out in public where anyone could hear him.

  A second later, Alistair realizes his mistake. His easy grin vanishes as he lowers the phone.

  Troubled, he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.”

  “No, it’s okay. Slipups happen.”

  He returns my phone. “Are you getting donuts to go? They have a special deal today. You’ll get double your order if you buy a dozen. I suspect once this hits social media, the place will be packed.”

  “That’s tempting, but I don’t think I can eat twenty-four donuts by myself. I’ll probably go into a sugar-induced coma, and who’s going to rescue me?”

  “I would,” he says, and my heart decides to do the conga.

  What the hell is going on here? Alistair just offered to be my knight in shining armor. I must be hallucinating. Sure, we’re not on school property, but he’s still my teacher. He’ll lose his job if people suspect we were involved before.

  I don’t know what he reads on my face, but he suddenly clears his throat and says, “I’d better go or I’ll be late. See you in class on Monday.”

  He walks away, leaving me bereft and cold inside. The silly girl in me is upset he didn’t stay longer.

  I’m still watching his retreating back when someone touches my shoulder, scaring the crap out of me.

  “Madonna Santa! Robbie, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Sorry. Hey, was that Mr. Walsh?”

  “Hmm, yes.”

  “That man is sin incarnate.”

  “You really need to stop lusting after a teacher.”

  I’m such a hypocrite. If he only knew the wicked things Alistair did to me this summer.

  Shit. My face must be redder than a tomato.

  He sighs loudly. “I know. I hate the rules that students can’t get involved with teachers. It’s so unfair. Do you know how many hotties we’ve had at DuBose since I started? Too fucking many. All forbidden, which makes them even more appealing.”

  “If you’re into older guys.” I shrug, hoping I’m selling the lie that I don’t find Alistair all that hot.

  “Are you referring to Mr. Walsh? He’s not that old. He’s only twenty-six. No, wait. I think his birthday is coming up, so he’ll be twenty-seven soon. But he’s still hot.”

  “How do you know when his birthday is?”

  “I googled it, of course.” I stare at Robbie with a question in my gaze, and he adds, “Oh my God. You have no idea who he is, do you?”

  A sliver of apprehension and excitement runs down my spine. “No. Should I?”

  “Mr. Walsh is a former child star. He was on this super popular show called The Lockharts for a decade!”

  “No way! We never got that show on Italian TV.”

  “Way! Let’s grab some coffee and deep fried sugar treats and I’ll show you. You’re going to lose your shit.”

  We go inside and place our orders while I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet. Alistair used to be an actor? That’s crazy.

  With our coffees and donuts in hand, Robbie pulls his laptop out and brings up Alistair’s profile. I almost choke on my donut when the picture of little Alistair fills the screen. So darn cute.

  “Dio Santo. How old was he there?”

  “I think he was eight at the time, but his character was six years old on the show. So yeah, he totally grew up in front of millions.”

  “Did he work in anything else after the show ended?”

  “Nope. During the last season, Alistair turned wild.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual. He was partying too hard, probably doing drugs. The standard behavior for children who grow up in the limelight. But I think what triggered Alistair’s reckless side was the death of his best friend.”

  Robbie types in another name on the Google search bar, Jamie Lewis, and the image of a cute dark-haired kid pops up. In the description, it says he died when he was only seventeen.

  “What happened to him?” I ask.

  “Suicide.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “Yeah. Alistair was really tight with him. Anyway, after the show ended, he just disappeared.”

  My chest feels heavy now. Alistair is still a very good actor. He never gave any indication he’d carried that heavy burden with him. Unlike me, who had the woe-is-me sign flashing above my head the whole time we were together.

  Robbie keeps scrolling through the pictures of Alistair until we get to a much more recent one. He has a beautiful brunette in his arms. My heart clenches so painfully, I almost can’t breathe.

  “Who is that?” I choke out.

  “Oh, that’s Alistair soon-to-be ex-wife.”

  “Wait. He’s still married?” The donut I just ate burns in my stomach, and bitterness pools in my mouth.

  “Uh, technically yes. Word on the street is that she cheated on him with one of his friends.”

  I keep staring at the photo while my pulse drums in my ears, drowning out all the other sounds. A huge sense of betrayal makes my cheeks turn hot. Alistair didn’t make any sort of commitment to me. Still, I hate the fact that while he was screwing me in Italy, he had a wife back home.

  “When did that happen?” I ask after a moment.

  “Around eight months ago. He was a mess. Stopped shaving regularly, got grumpier than ever, and took a leave of absence. I was surprised to see him back at school. I thought he was going to be away longer. It’s not like he needs his teaching salary to survive.”

  “And he’s still married to her? Why?”

  Robbie watches me through narrowed eyes. “Look who’s interested in the teacher all of a sudden.”

  “What? It’s good gossip.” The lie is weak, and I think Robbie can totally see through my bullshit.

  “I don’t know why they haven’t divorced yet. My gue
ss is that she wants more money than is due to her. I met her once at a school function. She’s a snobby bitch. I don’t know what Alistair ever saw in her.”

  “She’s gorgeous,” I say with a pitiful tone, knowing I can’t compete.

  “Nah, she’s not that pretty in person. Trust me. You’re way hotter than her.”

  I lean back, crossing my arms. “Why would it matter if I’m hotter than her or not?”

  Robbie smiles knowingly at me. “Maybe because you’re hot for teacher?”

  “You’re crazy. I’m not into Mr. Walsh. At all.”

  A bigger lie has never been told.

  18

  Chiara

  Without knowing it, Robbie shoved me into hours of obsessive and destructive behavior. I spent the weekend stalking Alistair online, even though it hurt like a mother learning how he met his wife and seeing pictures of them together. I read a bit about his friend too, but I was more interested in his relationship with his wife.

  Glutton for punishment that I was, the more I read about his whirlwind romance with the Mexican actress Nadine Perez, the bigger the hole in my chest grew. Last night, I had to force myself away from the computer, but sleep eluded me. I kept seeing them together whenever I closed my eyes.

  Lack of rest adds to my irritation today. Following my lessons in the morning is murder, and not even Robbie can help me with his humorous antics. To fight tiredness, I drink too many cups of nasty cafeteria coffee, and when I arrive in Alistair’s class, I’m jittery as hell and ready to unleash the nasty bitch.

  I’m ten minutes early, but I’m not the first student there. I consider for a brief moment sitting next to someone new, forcing myself out of my comfort zone and making more friends, but I don’t think it’s a good idea today. Maybe next time.

  I take the same seat as before, deciding to kill time by checking my emails on my laptop. The top message in my inbox is from my mother, and I’m tempted to delete it without reading it. I skip her email for now because I really don’t need to add her viciousness to my sour mood.

  The next email is from Max, and it’s a picture of him and his latest conquest. I swear to God he has a new girlfriend every other week. This one is an Asian beauty he met at a photo shoot in Thailand.

  I click on the Reply button, but my fingers hover over the keyboard and no words come. For the first time, I don’t know what to say to my cousin. I haven’t told Max yet that Alistair is one of my teachers, and it feels wrong to write anything to him without revealing that bit of gossip. I’m not ready to spill the beans, mostly because Max is a shithead and he’ll tease me to no end. Maybe I can wait to tell him in person when he visits at the end of the month.

  “Good morning,” Josh greets me as he takes the seat next to mine.

  “Hey, good morning.”

  I close my laptop with a jerky movement, not knowing why. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. Josh doesn’t seem to notice my fidgety reaction though.

  “I uploaded our assignment last night,” he says.

  “Cool, thanks. When do you think we’ll be graded?”

  “Knowing Mr. Walsh’s reputation, I’d say we’ve already been graded. I haven’t checked the portal yet.”

  As if he was summoned by the mere mention of his name, Alistair walks in, looking sexier than ever. His button-down shirt stretches across his wide chest and clings to his biceps, making my mouth go dry. He seems well rested and relaxed, and here I am feeling like shit for losing sleep over him. The sense of longing hits me hard, but so does the anger that had been simmering low in my guts.

  Remember, Chiara, he’s still married.

  “Good morning, everyone.” His voice booms, commanding our attention.

  He throws a cursory glance over the room but gives no indication he sees me.

  “As of ten minutes ago, your first assignment grades have been posted. I wish I could say you all did well, but unfortunately, it seems not everyone here is taking this class seriously.”

  His gaze finally lingers on Josh and me as if he’s implying we were some of the students who did poorly. That’s impossible. Our essay kicked ass.

  I quickly log into the portal via my phone and search for our grades. Josh must have gotten to it first based on the low curse that escapes his mouth.

  The page finally loads on my phone, and I have to blink a couple of times to believe my eyes.

  We got an F? What the hell?

  I glance in Josh’s direction.

  “Is this for real?”

  “I don’t understand.” He looks as confused as I feel. “I thought we nailed that assignment.”

  “If you have questions about your grades, please wait until the class is over to discuss it. Now, let’s move on with today’s lecture.”

  I’m so pissed that I can’t see straight. I curl my hands into fists over my lap and grind my teeth. I’ve never received an F in anything in my life. I’m an A student through and through. That’s why my father didn’t even bat an eye when I asked to study in California. He knows I’m serious about my education. Who the fuck does Alistair think he is to fail me?

  I’ll show him.

  I channel my frustration into paying extra attention to class, and for once I’m able to ignore how my heart hurts from being in his presence. I’m so in tune with the lecture that when Alistair asks me a question, I’m able to answer without hesitation. The arching of his eyebrows tells me he wasn’t expecting me to be so assertive.

  Jerk. I’m blonde, but I’m not dumb.

  So it wasn’t enough to give me an F, but he also wants to humiliate me in class?

  Let’s see who’s going to have the last laugh.

  As soon as the class is over, Josh makes a beeline to Alistair’s desk. I follow him but let my classmate do all the talking, mostly because I’m afraid of what will come out of my mouth.

  “Mr. Walsh, with all due respect, I don’t understand why you gave us an F,” Josh starts.

  Alistair leans forward and laces his fingers together. “What grade should I have given you for a blank Word document?”

  “What?”

  Alistair turns his laptop screen toward us and shows an empty page where our assignment should have been.

  Josh shakes his head. “There must be a glitch in the system. I uploaded a ten-page assignment last night. I swear.”

  Alistair frowns, and maybe I catch a flash of guilt in his eyes. I watch him through slits. So it did cross his mind that there could have been a technical error, and he still chose to give us an F. That’s fucked up, and I can’t keep my mouth shut any longer.

  “I’m surprised you were so quick to fail us when it was obviously a system failure. Why would anyone submit a blank document?” I say.

  “Someone who didn’t finish the assignment in time and was hoping to blame a glitch in the system.”

  “Dio Santo.” I throw my hands up in the air. “That’s ludicrous. Josh and I would never do something like that. How about innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Miss Moretti, you’ll soon find out that’s the biggest lie ever told.”

  I openly glare at him. “I guess you should know all about lies and deception.”

  A vein on Alistair’s forehead throbs as his eyes narrow.

  Good. I managed to hit a nerve.

  Josh, the poor thing, glances between Alistair and me without a clue of what’s going on now. He must have sensed the sudden tension in the air though.

  “Mr. Walsh, I swear that’s not the case. I can show you the date the final file was saved,” he says.

  Alistair breaks the staring contest with me and turns his attention to Josh. “I suppose I could give you the benefit of the doubt. Send me the assignment as an attachment, and I’ll grade it accordingly. But this is the only time I’ll make an exception, system failure or not.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Walsh,” Josh replies, clearly relieved.

  I can’t say the same.

  I walk out of the classroom with Josh, s
till seething from the exchange with Alistair. A minute later, I hear a ping on my phone. A notification is flashing on my screen saying I have a new email from—gasp—Mr. Walsh. My heart is hammering inside my chest when I stop in the middle of the hallway to open the email. There’s no subject line, and the body of the message only has one line: Meet at my office in five minutes.

  What a jackass. Does he think my world revolves around him?

  I’m tempted to blow him off, but the opportunity to yell at him is too good to pass up.

  19

  Alistair

  The moment I send the email to Chiara, I know I’ve made a mistake. I can’t be trusted alone with her, but I have to know why she was giving me a death stare throughout the entire lecture. Sure, it could be solely related to the F I gave her, but her little speech about lies and deception had nothing to do with the assignment.

  I leave the door to my office open on purpose and try to keep myself occupied. Five minutes never took so long to pass. It’s possible she’ll ignore my email or not see it at all, which doesn’t make the wait any better.

  I’m staring at my PhD diploma hanging on the wall, the one I never thought I’d receive, when a knock comes at my door, making my heartbeat kick up a notch.

  “Miss Moretti. I’m glad you could make it.”

  She closes the door behind her with a soft click. I should ask her to leave it open, but my tongue gets stuck in my mouth. Shit. Chiara stays rooted to the spot, watching me with an indecipherable glint in her eyes.

  “Why don’t you take a seat?”

  “I’m fine standing.”

  She’s not mad—she’s furious.

  I stand up and walk around my desk, something I shouldn’t be doing. I have to keep the distance between us. Just being in the same room alone with her is already wrecking my resolve to remain detached.

  “I sense you have something you’d like to get off your chest. Come on, let’s get on with it,” I say.

  “You failed Josh and me on purpose.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me, Alistair. Even if you suspected we were trying to be sneaky, you could have given us the benefit of the doubt and asked us to resubmit the assignment.”