Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance

by Michelle Hercules

  She has me there.

  “You’re right. I should have done that, but I already rectified my mistake. Anything else you would like to say to me?” I take a step closer because I can’t help myself.

  She stares at me with such fury that I’m afraid to know what I did to get her so pissed off.

  “You. Are. Married,” she finally says in a strained breath while punctuating each word.

  Ah fuck. I should have known she would find out about Nadine eventually.

  “I’m separated.”

  “But you’re still legally married.”

  “Yes, but not for much longer.” I move closer, and Chiara takes a step back, lowering her gaze to my chest.

  “It doesn’t matter. You slept with me while you were still married. You cheated on your wife with me.”

  The fire is gone from her voice. She sounds hurt, and I hate that I’m the cause.

  “Would it have made a difference if I had told you then?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

  Standing in front of her now, I place a finger under her chin, bringing her face up so I can look into her eyes. There’s defiance in them mixed with raw vulnerability. My gut twists.

  “Chiara, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin our time together. Yes, I’m still legally married, but I haven’t felt bound to Nadine for a very long time, even before she cheated on me.”

  “It doesn’t really matter, does it? We’re not together. What we had was a meaningless summer fling.”

  Her words cut deeply, but I’m not sure I believe her, not when she’s staring at me with her heart in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t meaningless to me,” I say before I lean closer, brushing her tender lips with the tip of my tongue. God, I missed her taste.

  I hear Chiara’s sharp intake of breath right before she parts her lips and welcomes my invasion. She tastes like peppermint dipped in honey, waking a wild hunger in me no one else but her can satiate.

  Goldilocks has unleashed the Big Bad Wolf.

  With a groan, I deepen the kiss, bringing my body flush against hers. The craving intensifies tenfold, an uncontrollable sensation that spreads throughout my entire body. Warning bells are going off in my head, telling me this is a mistake. But I’m powerless to stop it. I’m taken over by a reckless fever.

  The sound of my cell phone ringing snaps me from the madness. I pull away, taking a couple of steps back for good measure.

  Chiara stares at me with cheeks flushed and wide eyes.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” I say.

  “I’m not sorry.”

  Her answer surprises me. It makes me ecstatic, but it doesn’t change the fact that we can’t continue what’s going on here. She’s my student. I’m risking not only my reputation but the school’s. If Nadine finds out, she’ll also ruin Chiara’s life.

  I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated as hell with myself for not being able to fight my crazy attraction to this girl.

  “Chiara, this was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Do I look like a fucking blow-up doll to you? Some idiotic bimbo with big tits you can dry hump one minute and discard the next?”

  “What? Of course not. Goldilo—”

  “Don’t call me that! My earlier assessment of you was right. You’re nothing more than a washed-up child actor with a big ego. I wish I had never laid eyes on you.”

  She opens the door and is gone before I can stop her.

  It’s not the first time someone’s called me that, but hearing the words from Chiara cut deeper than a knife. Her youthful cruelty should be enough to halt whatever it is I’m feeling for her, but it does exactly the opposite. I know the drill; I was once like that, so angry that the only way I could cope was to lash out at those closest to me.

  My stomach churns as guilt sets in.

  Fuck. What have I done?

  20

  Chiara

  I manage to hold off the tears until I’m outside the building, but then the water flow starts and I can’t control it. I run off without direction. All I want is to put as much distance between me and Alistair as I can.

  He kissed me. He fucking kissed me, then took it back like it was the biggest mistake of his life.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. Hadn’t I already established he’s an asshole?

  I can’t believe I told him I wasn’t sorry he kissed me. I left him in Italy without saying goodbye to avoid the heartache, but here I am, making a fool of myself at the first opportunity. I’m so stupid.

  Cutting through the park to reach my apartment building faster, I bump into a solid chest. I would have fallen on my ass if the person hadn’t held my arms.

  “Whoa, Chiara. Where’s the fire?”

  “Hey, Josh. I didn’t see you there.”

  He frowns and looks intently at me. “What happened?”

  Ah shit. I forgot I was crying. I hastily take a step back and wipe the moisture from my cheeks. “Nothing.”

  “Chiara, come on. It looks like you’ve been crying your eyes out. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I’m homesick, that’s all.”

  Josh narrows his gaze. He’s not buying my bullshit.

  “Fine. I’ll pretend I believe you. It looks like you need a pick-me-up. Why don’t you come with me to Ditzy Donuts? My treat.”

  I should say no and head back to my apartment. But I can’t bear the thought of being alone right now.

  “All right. I can’t say no to sugary treats.”

  “Andiamo, then,” he says, and despite everything, I laugh.

  God, why couldn’t I have met Josh first?

  It turns out it’s always busy at the donut shop, no matter the time of day. Josh and I have to wait ten minutes in line to place our order. Grabbing a table outside is impossible, so we head back to the park near school.

  We manage to snatch a shady spot under a tree, which works out better than the donut shop would. At least here, there aren’t a lot of people nearby to eavesdrop on our conversation.

  “So, why do you think Mr. Walsh failed us like that?” Josh asks, and I groan to myself.

  He had to bring up the man I’m trying to forget.

  I shrug, ignoring the sharp pain in my chest. “Because he’s a jerk?”

  “I don’t know. This is my third year at DuBose, and not once have I heard anyone say he was a douchebag, despite his colorful past.”

  “Colorful past?” I ask with a smirk.

  Josh makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You know, his child acting past. He’s known to be a serious and fair teacher, so I got totally blindsided by his attitude today.”

  “Well, at least he let us resend the assignment.”

  Why are you defending him, Chiara?

  “Yeah, there’s that. So, are you going to tell me the real reason you were crying earlier?”

  I tense on the spot, my spine turning as rigid as a board. “I already told you. I was homesick.”

  Josh touches my knee, making me look at him. “Chiara, I know we’ve just met, but you can trust me, okay? If someone did something to you that you didn’t want them to, you can tell me. I won’t judge, but I’ll kick his ass.”

  Dio Santo. I think Josh suspects someone sexually assaulted me. Well, someone did kiss me, but it was something I more than welcomed, even if later I regretted my weakness.

  I cover his hand with mine and smile feebly.

  “Thanks, Josh. I do appreciate your concern. Don’t worry. It wasn’t anything like that.”

  Relief washes over his face. I think this time he believes me. Good. I couldn’t have him worrying like that.

  “Do you have a boyfriend back home?” he asks.

  Uh-oh. Dangerous territory. It never bodes well when a guy asks if you have a boyfriend. I don’t owe Alistair anything, so there’s nothing keeping me from finding a new guy, but Josh is one of the good ones. I
can’t string him along while I’m pining for someone else.

  “Yes and no. It’s complicated.”

  “Oh.”

  I hear the disappointment in Josh’s voice, which makes me feel bad for my half-truth.

  Trust me, Josh. You want to stay far away from this train wreck here.

  “I met him in Tuscany last July. It was supposed to be a summer fling, you know, but it evolved into something more.”

  “Ah, I see. Now you’re here and he’s back in Italy, I assume?”

  I almost reveal part of the truth that Alistair lives in LA. But Josh is too smart, and he would be able to connect the dots in no time. So I lie.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that sucks. But long-distance relationships can work.”

  “He’s married,” I blurt and then lower my gaze, cursing my big mouth. “I mean, he’s separated, but he’s still officially married. I feel betrayed in a sense, and also dirty. I’m not a home-wrecker.”

  Josh doesn’t say anything for a long time, and when I look up, I catch him staring out in the distance.

  “Josh, are you still here with me?”

  He shakes his head and looks at me. “Yes, of course. I was just thinking about what you said. I don’t think you should feel that way. You didn’t know he was married at the time, and he’s separated. A piece of paper linking him and his wife doesn’t really mean much. The most important connection”—he points at my heart—“is what should matter. Do you love him?”

  Wow. That was deep shit from an eighteen-year-old dude. I know I’m in love with Alistair, but do I love him? Those two feelings are not necessarily the same thing. How can you love someone you don’t know?

  “My legs turn into jelly, and I get butterflies in my stomach when I think about him. I think I’m in love with him, which is super crazy. We only spent a weekend together.”

  “No, not crazy at all. I believe true love happens like that, suddenly, devastatingly.”

  I pay close attention to Josh. “You sound like you speak from personal experience.”

  “Not my personal experience. My parents. Their story is not so different than yours. They met when they were in Spain on a month-long trip to learn the language. They said it was love at first sight. The funny thing is they lived their entire lives only a few blocks from each other. They even went to the same high school. But they had to travel across the ocean to find each other and fall in love.”

  “That’s a beautiful story, Josh. You should turn it into a movie.”

  “Maybe I will. Although, I have no desire to make sappy movies a la Nicholas Sparks.”

  “Shut up. I love The Notebook.”

  He chuckles. “Sure. You love Ryan Gosling in The Notebook.”

  “Whatever. It was a beautiful love story. How about you? Any special lady in your life?”

  Josh frowns and looks away. “Nope. I don’t have time for relationships. I want to focus on turning my passion into a career, because nothing can take that away from me.”

  I mull over his words, thinking inevitably about Alistair. My sadness returns, but also anger.

  “You’re right. Fuck love. Like Tina Turner said, it’s a secondhand emotion, anyway.”

  21

  Alistair

  I’m the stupidest motherfucker on the planet. I kissed Chiara, and in my office to boot. Anyone could have walked in, ending my teaching career in a minute and also giving Nadine everything she needs to get what she wants. We’re separated, but her lawyer would no doubt twist it around since Chiara is my student. Nadine is not beyond blackmailing me.

  I should be more concerned about that, but all I can think about is how Chiara crumbled in my office. I wasn’t imagining things. There was more to her reaction than simple ego bruising.

  Damn it. I thought she was only after a distraction in Italy. That made sense when she bailed without saying goodbye. I won’t lie and say it didn’t upset me, but I chalked it up as hurt male pride. What if Italy was more than just careless fun for both of us?

  No, I can’t entertain those thoughts. I have to cut all strings before things get more complicated. It’s obvious I can’t be trusted to be alone with her, so I have to get her out of my system for good.

  I need to get laid.

  I text Enzo and ask what his plans are for the weekend. He’s the social butterfly in my tight group of friends and the wingman I need. He replies thirty minutes later saying he’s going to a party at the Hills on Friday. I groan. That means a party filled with wannabe celebrities, not exactly my scene anymore. But it’s either that or take cold showers every time I picture Chiara naked under me. I reply that I’m game, and then I get ready to tackle another task I had been procrastinating: reading and grading Chiara and Josh’s paper.

  I’m afraid it won’t be good and I’ll be forced to give her a low grade. She’ll think I’m retaliating if that’s the case. Fuck. What a mess.

  I get to it, because the work won’t get done with me just staring at the screen. As I begin to read, the tension slowly leaves my body. They selected three well-written screenplays and their analysis is good. They could have dove deeper in some areas, but overall, it’s a solid B-plus.

  As I upload the document with my notes and post the final grade online, I instinctively know Chiara won’t be happy about it. I checked her transcripts from Italy. She was at the top of her class.

  I can’t help the feeling of pride that spreads across my chest. It goes beyond what a teacher should feel toward a pupil. All educators want their students to do well, but my desire to see Chiara succeed goes further than that.

  Irritated with the conflicting emotions bouncing inside my head, I put on the meditation track Caio recommended a few months ago. I was skeptical at first, but after a few tries, I realized that listening to it for a few minutes does help me focus afterward.

  I don’t achieve a Zen state of mind this time because I’m interrupted by Forrester, DuBose’s principal. He knocks on my door and pushes it open before I even have the chance to reply. His mop of gray hair appears through the crack, probably to make sure I’m alone before he opens the door all the way and walks in.

  “Hi, Alistair, do you have a minute?”

  I pull my earphones off and watch my friend warily. It’s not like him to make unannounced appearances. The fact that if he had come by twenty minutes earlier, he would have caught me with Chiara twists my guts into knots.

  “Yes, sure. What can I do for you?”

  Forrester closes the door before taking a seat. His face is more serious than usual. I smell trouble.

  “I have a delicate matter to discuss with you.”

  Ah fuck. Has he somehow found out about Chiara and me? A spike of adrenaline shoots through my veins, but I keep my poker face on.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I hate to say this without proof, but I caught wind of a rumor that one of the DuBose’s teachers is having an affair with a student.”

  I swallow hard but don’t say anything. If Forrester asks point blank if I’m involved with Chiara, I won’t lie.

  He laughs nervously. “You know how kids are on social media. Gossip spreads like wildfire.”

  “How did you catch wind of this rumor?”

  “Through my daughter, Jillian. I overheard a conversation between her and a friend. It was by accident, but it made me extremely concerned. That’s why I’m here speaking with you. I don’t want to accuse Miss Kensington of improper conduct based on mere gossip.”

  “Miss Kensington?”

  “Yes. Apparently she was caught making out with one of her students at a popular bar downtown. I had my assistant look into it, and there is indeed a picture of someone who looks like her in a passionate embrace with a guy. Here, I had Marianne print this out for me.”

  Forrester pulls a folded piece of paper from his jacket and slides it over to me. Frowning, I pick up the photo and grind my teeth as I stare at a very dark and grainy picture.

  “This cou
ld be anyone, Forrester.”

  “I know. But what if the rumors are true? You know what they say, ‘where there’s smoke, there’s fire.’”

  “Are you here seeking my advice?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  “Don’t do anything. Pretend you’ve never heard about the rumors. If you bring Miss Kensington in to ask questions without solid proof, you might lose a very good teacher and possibly get your ass sued as well.”

  Forrester doesn’t balk at my crude remark. We’ve known each other for a very long time. He flattens his lips and stares at my desk.

  “Yes, you’re right. Besides, I don’t want to sound sexist, but the reality is that a relationship between a female teacher and a male student wouldn’t do as much damage to DuBose’s reputation as if it had been the other way around. Provided the student is of age, naturally.”

  His careless comment has me clenching my jaw so hard I’m afraid I’m going to break a tooth.

  “Well, I’d better get going.” He stands up. “You must have plenty of things to do. I still remember how chaotic it gets when classes start. Thanks for your help, Alistair.”

  “Any time.”

  I’m still reeling minutes after Forrester’s departure. Fuck. If this conversation wasn’t a clear sign that I have to get my shit together, I don’t know what is.

  I need to get out of here, but I still have stuff to do. In my inbox, there’s a brand-new message from a coworker with the subject line “Huge favor.” Curious, I click on it. Vivian never really asks for favors unless she’s in dire need.

  Scanning the message quickly, I realize that’s the case. Her mother suffered a heart attack this morning, and Vivian flew to Houston to see her. She’s wondering if I can cover her biweekly class and help with the project she’s leading, the Annual Film Festival. I’ve always been involved in the past, this year being the only time I didn’t volunteer thanks to my messy personal life.