Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance

by Michelle Hercules

  I swallow hard. “That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t have time for students who are using school to party on their parents’ dime.”

  I wince, feeling Alistair’s rebuff as if it were a physical blow. That’s exactly what my mother thinks I’m doing, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I haven’t partied at all.

  My eyes prickle as my vision turns blurry.

  “I’m not a party girl,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Prove it.”

  “No, Mr. Walsh. I don’t have to prove jack to you. Yes, it was wrong to text during your class. It won’t happen again. But if I party or not, it’s none of your concern. Only my grades are, and they speak for themselves.” I grab my phone and run out of the classroom.

  I’m fuming as I stride down the hallway. Robbie sees me and steps in my way.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “It doesn’t look like nothing. Do you want to go somewhere and talk?”

  I shake my head. I wish I could confide in Robbie, but this secret is not only mine, and despite being furious with Alistair, I can’t put his career in jeopardy.

  “No. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  I rush out of the building, keeping the fast pace until I reach my apartment. When I walk through the door, I’m winded, and sweat dots my forehead. A spike of pain flares on my right side, but it subsides after a moment. It must be a cramp for practically running a block.

  I collapse on the couch. I only plan to rest for a bit, but once my eyes close, oblivion takes over.

  26

  Alistair

  So far, this semester has been a complete disaster. I thought I could put whatever it is I’m feeling for Chiara on the back burner and treat her like a regular student. I thought I was succeeding until I put on that damn Italian movie. Fuck, when that sex scene came on, it changed everything. The sexual tension in the room rose to alarming levels. It was a good thing Chiara left, because I had been close to breaking my rules again.

  Then I saw that damn picture of Chiara kissing the school’s quarterback, and I completely lost my mind. Riding the jealousy wave, I couldn’t keep my temper in check in class, and the result was me acting like a caveman. I didn’t have to take away her phone; a warning would have sufficed.

  Tonight, I’m giving dating another try. Since I’m not looking for a serious relationship, it doesn’t matter that my divorce isn’t finalized yet. With Chiara it was different. I knew the closer I got to her, the more I would want her.

  This time, I used a different app, making sure I didn’t type any of Chiara’s attributes in the filters. My date is a redheaded businesswoman from Canada. I’ve always gotten along with Canadians, so I figured why the hell not? The plus side is that she looks nothing like Chiara or my ex-wife.

  The date is going well. The conversation is flowing smoothly, and Sarine, my date, has even made me laugh a few times. I’m at ease, but so far, the intelligent woman opposite me hasn’t made me feel anything else. I could take her back to my place and fuck her—something Sarine already hinted she’s more than willing to do—but sleeping with her just for the sake of cleansing my palate feels wrong.

  “So, I have a confession to make.” She looks at me from under her eyelashes. A lopsided smile unfurls on her lips.

  “I’m listening.”

  “This is the first time I used the app to score a date. My sister is the one who set my account up as a joke.”

  “I believe that’s a normal occurrence.” Or people just use that excuse to pretend they aren’t desperate.

  “Right, but that’s not the confession. I only agreed to this date because I recognized you.”

  “Oh?”

  And that’s when I know the evening will go downhill faster than a speeding car without brakes. There’s nothing that can put me in a fouler mood than when people want to bring up my celebrity past. It was a breath of fresh air that Chiara had no clue who I was. And even now that she knows about my past, she hasn’t brought it up.

  “We watched The Lockharts religiously at my house when I was a kid. Of course, my favorite character was yours. You were my first crush.”

  My reaction is to clench my jaw hard. I don’t know what to say. I never do in these situations. This isn’t the first time someone’s told me I was their first crush, but it’s the first time a date has mentioned it.

  Sarine notices my hard stare and drops her gaze to her plate. “I’m sorry. You must hear that all the time.”

  “I do.”

  I could have tried to make her feel better, but I’m honestly not in the mood to appease anyone. It’s not Sarine’s fault I get annoyed easily when someone mentions my ten-year stint on the family-oriented TV show. Nor is it her fault that talking about it inevitably brings Jamie to the forefront of my mind, and with that, the guilt.

  “I want to know all about it. What was it like on the set?”

  How about great until I lost my best friend?

  Grinding my teeth, I draw our waiter’s attention. I’ll need something stronger than wine to make it through dinner.

  “It was work. So, you only have one sister?”

  “Oh come on, Alistair. You can elaborate more than that. Did everyone in the cast get along?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you still keep in touch with them?”

  “No.”

  My monosyllabic answers don’t seem to clue her in that I don’t want to talk about my glory days.

  “What happened to Jamie Lewis was so sad. I’ll never understand why he did it.”

  Fuck me. She had to go there.

  When the waiter finally approaches our table, instead of asking for another drink, I hand him my credit card.

  Sarine’s jaw drops as a glint of surprise shines in her eyes.

  “Is there something wrong, sir?” The waiter eyes my barely eaten dinner.

  “No, nothing’s wrong with the food.”

  I don’t elaborate further, letting the guy draw whatever conclusion he wants. Sarine’s glint of surprise vanishes. She’s now glaring at me.

  “Are you going to bail on me? I thought dinner was going great.”

  I drop my napkin on top of my sixty-dollar uneaten steak and stand up. “It was nice to meet you, Sarine. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  I head after the waiter because waiting for him to bring my card back while sitting at the table with Sarine is unnecessary torture. I catch her entering a cab when I walk out of the restaurant. If the story she told me about her sister setting up her account on the dating app is true, I’m sure she’s on the phone with her right now. In the back of my mind, I know what I did was a douche move, but I’m too fucking busy battling old demons to care.

  I should drive straight home, but instead I go to the last place on earth I should be.

  The Brandywine Hall building looms in front of me. Parked across the street from it, I make a mental list of all the reasons I shouldn’t be here. I ignore all of them as I get out of my car.

  It’s my luck—or demise—that someone is walking out and I’m able to slip into the building. I have no idea what apartment number Chiara’s is, but that mystery is quickly solved by looking at the names on the mailboxes.

  I forgo the elevator in favor of the stairs, taking them two at a time. There’s a reason for my urgency—if I take too long, my sanity will return, and right now, I don’t want to have common sense.

  Once in front of her apartment, I ring the doorbell. When I don’t hear anything, I knock instead, hard.

  “I’m coming!” she says from somewhere inside.

  The door opens, and the sight of her robs me of air. Her hair is disheveled, and her cheeks are flushed. I wonder for a second if I interrupted her with someone. Jealousy surges through me, suddenly and violently.

  “Alistair. What are you doing here?” Her voice comes out as a breathless whisper.

  “I think w
e need to talk. May I come in?”

  Her eyes widen slightly, but she does open the door all the way and allows me in. I just take a couple of steps before I turn around. Chiara is standing in front of the closed door, frozen like a statue, watching me with wary eyes. A myriad of emotions clashes inside my chest. Longing, regret, anger. But the feeling that stands out the most is something I never thought I would feel again. I can’t believe it took me this long to realize the truth.

  “Why are you here, Alistair?”

  “I went on a date tonight,” I blurt like a moron.

  She winces. “And you just came here to rub it in?”

  I pass a hand over my face. “No, I came here because I’m done pretending that our weekend in Italy was meaningless.”

  Leaning against the door, she closes her eyes and presses a hand over her forehead. It’s then that I notice she doesn’t look well.

  “Chiara, are you okay?”

  “No. I feel… faint.”

  No sooner does she say it than she stumbles forward.

  “Chiara!” I reach her with a giant stride, catching her in my arms before she hits the floor.

  With her head pressed against my chest, I can tell she’s burning up. I lift her in my arms, noticing how she feels like deadweight. She’s passed out.

  I cup her cheek. “Goldi, wake up.”

  Her eyelids flutter, but she only opens them halfway. “Alistair, I don’t feel good.”

  “Of course you don’t, sweetheart. You have a fever. Do you have painkillers?”

  She closes her eyes again and nods.

  “Where are they, Goldi?”

  “In the cabinet above the sink in my bathroom.”

  I don’t need directions to find her bedroom and adjacent bathroom. I lay Chiara on her bed first and then go in search of the medicine.

  God, what would have happened if I hadn’t decided to act recklessly and come see her tonight?

  There’s a water bottle on her nightstand already. I help her swallow the pills and then try to get her as comfortable as possible.

  “Alistair?” she croaks.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “Nothing could pry me away from you, Goldi. Now sleep. You need to rest.”

  “Okay.”

  I don’t move from my spot by the edge of her bed until Chiara’s breathing becomes even. Once I’m sure she’s asleep, I head back in the living room to grab some pillows and then return to her bedroom to make a makeshift bed for myself on the floor. I could take the couch, but that would be too far from her; I don’t want her to wake up in the middle of the night and think I’ve left.

  I stare at the ceiling, but sleep eludes me. It’s not only worry about Chiara that’s keeping me wide awake. I’m thinking about my life and what I truly want out of it. Being reminded about Jamie today brought things into perspective for me.

  I knew what I felt for Chiara was bigger, more powerful than anything I had experienced before, but fear made me push her away.

  Not anymore.

  27

  Alistair

  The sound of soft feet near my head wakes me. My vision is blurry, and it takes me a moment to remember where I am. Then I see her face, hovering over mine like a golden angel.

  I lean on my elbows. “Chiara, you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  “You spent the night… on the floor.”

  I rub my eyes, trying to get rid of the last vestiges of sleepy fog. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d need me during the night.”

  “You should have taken the couch.”

  “How are you feeling?” I reach for her forehead to check her temperature, but she leans back and away from my hand.

  “I feel fine.”

  She’s leery of me. Perhaps she doesn’t remember much of last night. Not that I had the chance to tell her why I came.

  I sit up and touch her arm before she can move farther back. “You scared me, Goldi.”

  Her delicate eyebrows furrow. “Why? It was just a fever.”

  “You passed out. It wasn’t simply just a fever. If anything had happened to you….”

  “What? Why do you care?”

  “God, Chiara, I’ve been a mess since you left me alone in that hotel room in Italy. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

  “You haven’t?” Her reply is like a soft breeze.

  “No, Goldilocks. I haven’t.”

  I loop my arm around her tiny waist and bring her onto my lap. Her plump lips are inches from mine now. She doesn’t flinch or try to move; instead, she keeps her bright blue eyes glued to mine. I slide my fingers into her hair, curling them around a golden lock, and shorten the distance between us so I can taste her sweet mouth.

  When our tongues clash, the simmering fire in the pit of my stomach becomes a blaze so intense it’s almost impossible to restrain myself. I bring her body flush against mine, deepening the kiss. She melts against my frame, waking everything male in me.

  Chiara pulls back too soon and stares at me with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. “Alistair, what does this mean? What about your job?”

  “I don’t care about my job, or my ongoing divorce. I had an epiphany last night, sweetheart. I know it sounds crazy, and I have way too much baggage, but I need you in my life, Chiara. I need you.”

  “As a convenient booty call?”

  Frowning, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Never. You’re not a booty call. You never were.”

  Chiara drops her gaze and shudders. Pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I bring her face up. Tears have formed in her eyes, turning the blue in them even brighter.

  “Goldilocks, why are you crying?”

  “Because I’m so in love with you, I can’t stand it. I’m afraid that if this turns out to be just a meaningless affair to you, I’ll shatter to pieces.”

  Her confession sucks the air out of my lungs. “You’re in love with me?”

  She covers her face with her hands. “Cazzo! I can’t believe I just blurted that out. I’m such a mess.”

  I pull her into a tight hug, kissing the top of her head. “I’m a mess too, Goldi.”

  I want to confess that I’ve fallen for her as well, but the words get lodged in my throat. I’ve only said the L-word to two people in my entire life: my first crush when I was thirteen and Nadine. I’m afraid the word has lost its meaning to me. Or I’m just too fucking afraid to blurt it out and curse us.

  I kiss her again, harder and deeper. I want to brand her, or maybe I just want to show her how much she means to me.

  Without breaking our kiss, I get up with her still in my arms and then set her at the edge of the mattress. I take a step back and drink her in to make sure she’s well enough for what I have in mind.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need a moment to take in the sight of you.”

  She finger-combs her hair. “I must look hideous.”

  “Impossible. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Chiara.”

  She twists her face into a grimace. “Your ex-wife is gorgeous.”

  I wish she hadn’t brought up that snake.

  “Goldilocks, let me make something very clear to you. Nadine is nothing to me. You’re a thousand times smarter—” I kiss her nose., “—sexier—” I kiss her neck. “—and prettier than her. Plus, you taste fucking delicious.” I claim her mouth like a starved man.

  She leans back too soon and speaks against my lips. “Really?”

  I take her hand and place it over my chest. “Do you feel this, Chiara? See how my heart is beating at a hundred miles an hour for you?”

  She stares at my chest for a couple of beats before looking into my eyes. Without a word, she pulls her T-shirt off, revealing her glorious breasts. My mouth goes dry as I glance at them, the nipples already hard.

  “Touch me, Alistair.”

  Like a pupp
et without control, I obey her command. My hands cover her breasts, kneading them softly. Chiara throws her head back and lets out a moan. Fuck. If she keeps making sounds like that, I’m going to come in my pants.

  I kiss the hollow of her throat before trailing my tongue down her collarbone until I reach her hard nipple. I suck the nub into my mouth while playing with the other with my hand. She digs her fingers into my hair, pulling at the short strands.

  Letting go of her scrumptious tit, I drop to my knees, placing my hands on each side of her hips. There’s a sharp intake of breath on her part right before she whispers my name, filled with raw need.

  Looking up, I say, “I hope you’re ready for this, Goldi, because this wolf is fucking hungry.”

  CHIARA

  Is this real life? Is Alistair really here in my room, ready to devour me, or am I suffering from a fever-induced hallucination?

  If this is a figment of my imagination, I don’t want to return to reality.

  Alistair slowly rolls my underwear down my legs without looking away from my face. My cheeks are blazing, and anticipation has made my breathing shallow. His focus switches to my pussy, and I swear my clit throbs in response. He leans closer, his warm breath fanning over my exposed skin right before he kisses the junction between my leg and pubic bone.

  “Alistair, please….”

  “What is it, Goldi?” He moves closer to where I so desperately need him to be with another soft kiss.

  “Stop torturing me.”

  With a chuckle, he nudges my legs wider, and I watch him with a lust-infused gaze. Alistair’s eyes connect with mine right before he licks my bundle of nerves in one long, delicious sweep of his tongue.

  “Dio Santo!” I let my head fall back because Alistair just sent me dangerously close to the edge already.

  With a groan, he starts his merciless torture. His hands are on my hips, keeping me in place, while his tongue pushes me into oblivion. My head becomes light, and the room starts to spin. Alistair alternates between licking and sucking me, making it impossible to slow down the orgasm that’s fast approaching. I bite my lower lip, hoping the pain will distract me. It does the opposite.