by R Holmes
Fuck.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I run my hands through my hair. I woke up this morning to Rhys kicking the fucking door down nearly, and ready to beat the shit out of me. She-devil went through my fucking phone while I was blacked out, and sent an email with a video of Rhys and Val to the entire fucking school, and now, I've spent the majority of the day trying to clean up the fucking mess.
Everything's a shit show, and it's my fault. If I never would've gotten drunk and been with her in the first place, she wouldn't have had access to my shit. Val won't even look at Rhys, let alone talk to him so we had to bring Rory in, and even then he would barely speak to us until he listened and realized I would've never purposefully hurt Valentina.
He sucker punched me, and I let him because I deserved it. It was the least I could fucking handle after almost breaking Rhys and Val up. I didn’t just owe it to Rhys because he’s my best friend, I owe it to Val. After I found out she wasn’t the one to put Ez in jail, we’d formed this… friendship. The first friendship with a female I’d had that wasn’t involving me sleeping with her. I had to make the shit right.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, a text from Mara saying she'll be there in five. As soon as I realized what had happened I texted her and told her to get her ass here now. She was fixing this shit, and if she didn't? Being the asshole that I've always been, I'll ruin her reputation with the snap of a finger and not a second of remorse.
She should know better than to fuck with us.
That's why she immediately responded she was on her way. Thankfully I took an hour long shower and scrubbed my dick until it almost fell off, but now I feel permanently gross.
A few minutes later, I hear her knock at the front door. I throw a T-shirt on and open the door, revealing the trash on my doorstep. Mara has the audacity to look… smug about what she did.
She goes to speak and I hold my hand up stopping her. "Fucking save it." I hold the door open, allowing her inside. I'd rather not have this conversation in the hallway of the dorm for the world to see. Prancing by, she brushes against me, not in the least bit sorry for doing this shit, and that does nothing but piss me off more. I slam the door shut behind her and whip around to face her.
"You're such a bitch, Mara. Here's what you’re not going to do, you're not going to walk into my fucking dorm and act satisfied with yourself. Shit, you wonder why none of us want shit to do with you."
Her face falls like she's going to cry but she immediately plasters on a fake grin.
“Hmm, what do you mean, Bash?”
She wraps a strand of bleach blonde hair around her finger, feigning boredom.
"You're gonna go to the Abbey tonight, and you're going to apologize to Valentina for violating her fucking privacy."
Scoffing, she rolls her eyes. "As if."
I run my hand down my face, trying to calm down before I lose my shit on her.
Mara is one of the girls who thrives on the attention of others. She cares more about her appearance, than the shit personality she's got. Take the attention and that's when you see how desperate she'll truly be.
"That shitty reputation you cling to? Gone with a snap of my fingers and you know it. Fix it. It's not an option. You think I haven't heard about your little… issue." I glance down at her skirt, and she shifts around uncomfortably. My threat scares her.
"You're an asshole, Sebastian and I don’t have an STD!” She cries, visibly flustered.
I laugh, “You realize I could ruin you without even trying? People would avoid you like the plague. It’s the least you deserve after the shit you pulled.”
“God, you fuckers are insane.” Her arms crossed across her chest and she grins. “Man, I guess it’s going to ruin both of our reputations then, huh? Since you slept with me.”
* * *
I clench my jaw so hard I hear a pop in my ears.
* * *
“I would never admit that shit, it’s your word against mine. And trust me, they’ll believe mine. That’s why you’re going to fix this shit or I promise you, you’ll see just how much of an asshole I truly am. I can’t believe I even touched you.” I shake my head in disgust.
“God, you're such an asshole! I am not that bad, Sebastian,” she cries.
From the outside looking in, Mara wasn’t unattractive. If plastic’s your thing, I guess. Fake boobs, bleach blonde hair, too tight clothes and the least amount of respect you could have for yourself. It was the inside of her that was so repulsive.
“You’re right, you’re worse.” I shrug.
“Fuck you. You know, maybe we would’ve actually had sex, had your limp little dick gotten hard. It’s actually kind of sad, Sebastian. You should really have that checked out.”
Wait. What? I ignore her petty attempt at an insult, instead focusing on the fact that we didn’t actually have sex.
“Damn, two for oh tonight huh, Mara?”
Her heavily massacred lashes fan when her eyes roll. "You passed out like a fucking slob, snoring after you couldn't even get hard."
"Well Mara, that's generally what happens when someone blacks out. Maybe you shouldn't sleep with guys whose dicks have no interest in touching you. Do yourself a favor and fix this shit. I’d hate to have to let everyone in the school know you're contagious.”
She narrows her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. You are such an asshole.”
“You have no idea but I’d be glad to show you,” I brush past her and open the front door, gesturing for her to get the fuck out.
“Oh, and Mara?”
She looks back at me as she steps over the threshold. The scent of her overwhelming perfume threatens to choke me out.
“What else did you see when you took it upon yourself to go through my phone?”
“Mmm nothing, but got more shit to hide Sebastian?” Her overfilled lips stretch into a wide smile.
I don’t answer and slam the door in her face. I hear her let out a frustrated scream on the other side as she stomps away.
Good fucking riddance, Satan’s spawn.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't beyond relieved that I didn't consciously touch her or stick my dick in her. This was the lowest I've felt in a long ass time. I embarrassed myself fucking with her, and I fucked up my best friend’s relationship with his girl.
Fucking shit up with Valentina makes me think about Presley and everything that has happened. I’m no better than Mara, blackmailing her to get what I want.
What if Mara would have found the video? It would’ve not only ruined Presley’s life, but mine too. I could kiss my Yale scholarship goodbye. Losing my scholarship because of a leaked video would look even worse than forcing her into giving me the grades that I needed.
This shit was going to blow up in my face just the way this had if I didn’t get my shit together.
The look in Presley’s eyes when she saw flit through my mind. It was the same look my mother had on her face when she admitted my father’s abuse. I was a fucking asshole.
Doing this shit makes me no better than my father. He'd lie, cheat, steal, do whatever it takes to get what he wanted and I didn't want to be anything like that asshole. Yet, here I am doing the same things I always swore to myself I'd never do.
He was abusing my mother with zero remorse, and fuck, I’m just as much an asshole as he is.
I’ve spent so long buried in my own shit, that I didn’t even see the person I was becoming. The version of my father that I had already started to be. I feel gutted. An ache in my chest forms at the thought.
"Goddamnit," I roar, kicking over the barstool next to the bar. What the fuck am I doing?
This shit stops today. It’s too late to turn back the clock, but I’ll do whatever it takes to turn my shit around, and I guess I needed to start with making shit right with Presley.
11
Presley
I've come to the realization that there are more things broken in my cabin than things that actually work. This morning the kitchen faucet ex
ploded, literally, and soaked everything in the room including me, and it took me a solid five minutes to figure out which valve even cut off the water and by then everything in a fifteen foot radius was soaking wet. I was able to get it all cleaned up with towels and a mop but now I need a new faucet. When I walked into the hardware store, they greeted me by name which was nice, but also made me think about how much I'm actually in here for them to remember me by name. I love the cabin, and I love how I feel safe in my home, what I don't love is the fact that everything is broken, or on its way out the door. I'm not equipped to repair things and I'm only able to replace things little by little.
Sighing dejectedly, I push the basket down another aisle, wandering aimlessly, avoiding the massive amount of work that waits for me at home. Sundays are meant for relaxing and I usually curl up on the couch with a paperback and Hope, and pray for rain, but there's too much that needs to be done for me to lounge around today.
"Here you go ma'am." A young girl wearing an apron with the hardware store's logo on it walks up, carrying my shiny new faucet in hand.
"Thank you."
After the last few emotionally draining days, I revel in the quietness of the empty aisle, a chance to focus on the rows of different color shades instead of thinking of the things I want nothing more than to forget.
I wander aimlessly, no purpose, no direction, letting my fingers brush over the samples. It's ironic that I find a sense of calm in a place like this. It’s monotonous, mundane. But it's peaceful. I'm alive to do something simple like walk the aisles of a hardware store, even if I glance over my shoulder every time I hear a voice draw closer. It's the small things you never want to take for granted again . After browsing for an hour, I check out with my brand new faucet and head home to the mess that awaits.
The drive home is serene. Being surrounded by the forest offers its own sense of safety that the rest of the world isn’t privy to. I'm nestled inside the walls of a wooden fortress. I pull into the driveway and get out of my small, beat up Honda then walk up the winding path to unlock the front door. As soon as the doors open I hear Hope's meow from the spot she's claimed on the couch.
"Hi sweet girl," I coo as I toss my key into the bowl next to the door then lock all three deadbolts. She hops down and prances over to me, rubbing against my ankles, her way of asking for me to pick her up.
I bend down and take her into my arms, nuzzling my face against her soft fur as she purrs.
"Are you hungry? You must be starving after this morning's disaster," I ask, not expecting an answer back but asking still the same. She's my only friend, as sad as that is, and as much as I enjoy the peacefulness of my solitude, it is lonely.
Setting her back down, I walk into the kitchen and start putting things away that were taken out and moved around from the water leak. I start with the right cabinet and then make my way to the left, working in comfortable silence, and then I freeze.
The can opener is moved. Surely, I moved in the chaos, and didn't realize it… right?
My eyes were trained to catch things that were slightly out of place, even just a hair that the normal, untrained eye wouldn't catch. I learned early to catch those small things because my life depended on it. My body suffered enough beatings for the cups in the cabinet being off kilter even by a hair. My heart is racing so fast, I feel my breath catching, the onslaught of a panic attack ready to hit.
There's a rational explanation.
I whip around, my eyes scouring over every surface of the bare cabin, for anything out of place but find nothing. The panic claws at my throat as I suck in deep, full breaths to try and calm myself. Bile rises in my stomach when I glance back to the can opener.
The same fear I've been running from has hit me full force and I'm frozen in the spot. Hope's soft meow is the only thread I'm holding on to, grasping for dear life, to hold me in the spot with my feet on the ground.
You're safe Presley. There's no one here. I tell myself over, and over until I feel my recklessly pounding heart begin to slow. My knuckles have turned white from gripping the edge of the cracked linoleum counter along with my body which feels like it took a beating. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, the sheer amount of panic and fear almost causing me to faint.
He couldn't find me. No matter what, he could never find me.
If he does, I'd never make it out alive.
"Settle down, settle down. See you all tomorrow, don't forget your bonus assignment and don't email me at midnight for more time!" I laugh, rolling my eyes as my class hurries out of the classroom with the bell. Using the eraser, I wipe away the lesson and grab the chalk, ready to write for the next class.
"Presley."
Hearing his voice, my blood runs cold. I knew this moment would come, and instead of facing it head on, running over what I would say in my head a thousand times, I refused to think of it. I spent the entire weekend focused on anything and everything but Sebastian Pierce.
"Hi Sebastian, can I help you?"
I set the chalk down and turn around to face him. He looks devastatingly handsome as always, and it's unfair someone so infuriating can look so effortlessly beautiful. The dark, messy hair that swoops across his forehead unintentionally. Smoldering gray, blue eyes that are meant for the bedroom. They pin me where I stand against the chalkboard smoldering, the flames licking at my anger, igniting it. My stupid, naive heart pounds against my chest being in his presence.
"Look, can we talk for a second? I'll make it quick." His eyes dart to the open door then back to me, his attitude apparent.
"I think all was said that needed to be said, Sebastian. Is this about your grade or an assignment?"
"Yes."
His answer surprises me. He has made zero effort in my class thus far, resulting in the failing grade that he's rightly earned. His gaze shifts back to mine once more, and he shuffles on his feet.
"I know things are... weird between us. I'm not apologizing, I'm not asking for you to forgive me. I'm an asshole, I get it. But, you're still my teacher regardless of shit, and I need you to help me pass this class. Presley, I have to pass this class. It's not an option. My entire future rides on it." He clenches his jaw, looking away out the window, "I need help."
I bite back the retort on the tip of my tongue because even if I do harbor unresolved feelings toward him, he's right. At the end of the day, he's my student and I'm his teacher. It solidifies that what happened, never should have. I knew it was wrong, he knew it was wrong, and he still put my life in jeopardy, even if he didn't truly know the consequences of his actions. If I’m ever going to establish boundaries, I have to draw lines that aren’t to be crossed.
"All right, Sebastian. On my terms," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Shoot."
My eyebrows raise at the bored tone. "My classroom. The door stays open at all times and the first time that you are inappropriate, it's over. No heavily laced innuendos, no touching me, no invading my personal space whatsoever. If you cross the line, I'm going to the headmaster and what happens to your future is solely in your hands. You have to put in the work. Study, and turn assignments in on time. If you aren’t willing to try, then I don’t want to waste my time."
"Done. When can we start? Now?" He starts to take his backpack off to set it on the desk when I stop him.
"No, tomorrow."
His lips set in a hard line, gauging by his reaction it wasn't what he expected, but if I was going to do this, it was going to be on my terms.
We stare at each other silently for a few tense beats. Even though this feels like a literal wave of the white flag between us, the tense, uneasy feeling still hangs in the air between us. He hasn't apologized, and I won't forgive what he's done and he seems to be fine with leaving things that way.
"Fine. I'll be here at four."
"One shot, Sebastian. That's it."
"Okay, Presley." He says, throwing the backpack over his shoulder and sauntering towards the door with a swagger only he poss
esses.
"Sebastian!" I call out.
He turns around and his eyes meet mine in another smoldering stare, the one that burns completely through me. "Ms. Ambrose."
A dark look passes over his face, and he nods and walks out. I should feel better knowing he's willing to stop and surrender with the relentless harassment, but the knot in my stomach only tightens with each step he takes out of the room.
12
Sebastian
I’m gonna have to work harder than I probably have ever had to work in my entire life to pass this class.
Forty five minutes into this "tutoring" session with Presley and my nerves are fucking shot and my patience is nonexistent for several reasons. Starting with the fact that she has to smell so fucking good. It's ridiculous. Every time she moves, I catch a whiff of her light, floral… Presley scent, and it's driving me wild. The collar of my shirt is tightening by the second cutting off circulation to my brain.
I can’t focus on shit. My eyes are trained to her lips as she speaks, but I haven't heard any actual words she's said, instead I'm imagining them wrapped around my dick. Fuck, now my dick's trying to break free from my khakis.
"Sebastian?" she calls my name, and my eyes drag up to meet her gaze, leaving her lush lips. Her voice is laced with something I can’t place.
"Sorry, what?"
She rolls her eyes and slams the book shut in front of her.
"Have you even listened to anything I've said? I thought you said you wanted to pass this class."
"I've been listening, we were discussing Macbeth. Three witches right?" I think at least. Wasn't exaggerating in the least bit that I haven't heard a word that's left her mouth in the last twenty minutes instead lost in a fantasy where she’s wearing a short school skirt and bend-
"Sebastian!" she hisses.
"Shit. I'm sorry. Macbeth."
