by R Holmes
I grab the doorknob and pull the door open, brushing past him back out into the cabin.
Both Rory and Alec are looking at the door I just emerged from, but right now I don't know if I could even form the right words. I'll let Sebastian deal with his friends and the trail of mess he seems to leave behind him when he goes.
Walking through the hallway today feels different. Maybe it's my overactive imagination thinking everyone's eyes are burning into the back of my head, or that each hushed whisper I hear is gossip spreading like wildfire. It makes me wonder, is it my secret they're whispering about? Not the secret of who I am, or where I've come from but the one that includes Sebastian. Passing a group of girls, I pick up the pace and pass the teacher's lounge heading straight for my classroom, clutching the books in my hand tightly to my chest, and I feel like I'm the one back in high school.
I'm nervous. Apprehensive. Unsure of how I'll feel when I'm face to face with him again. Who wouldn't be nervous when they were surrounded by someone like Sebastian Pierce. The man could cut you to pieces with just his eyes, and you'd still beg for more. Each time he pulls me closer and closer into his world, I feel my resistance weakening. Then, something happens to bring me back down to Earth and solidify the reasons why it will never happen.
My heels click against the hardwood as I enter my classroom and place my books on the nearest desk. I've carried the heavy books clear across campus and now my arms along with my feet ache from exertion. Thankfully, it's Friday, which means an entire weekend of laundry, checking things off my never ending to- do list and hopefully relaxing on the couch with Hope, reading. While most people dread the mundane routine of everyday chores, I revel in it. A constant that offers comfort. As much as I want to leave the past behind me, over the years I've changed and adapted to my surroundings, and now I’m at the mercy of the very things that owned me. The obsessive need to clean, even when there isn’t a spot to be seen. Late at night while I'm lying in bed, I toss and turn while staring at the brown, worn water spot on the ceiling and think of all the things I should be doing. I’m making a mental list and going over it until I have it memorized. The therapist said it would pass, these things take time, but as the days pass by, I doubt it more and more.
It's in moments like now, when I'm sitting at my desk in the comfort of my classroom, basking in silence, when I feel the most thankful for my secrets.
The bell rings, loud and shrill, pulling me from my thoughts. I walk to the chalkboard and start writing out the pages for today's reading, when I feel it. The moment that he walks over the threshold. I don't even have to turn around to know that he's entered the room, my body hyper aware of his presence. The hair on my neck stands up, a shiver runs down my spine as I turn around to face the class. No one's paying attention, lost in their own conversations, but one pair of eyes stare back. They see straight through the facade of me, and into a part of me I want to rip away and keep hidden from this world before it's not mine any longer.
His gaze is hungry. Ravenous even. He doesn't try to hide his slow perusal of my body, stopping on the curve of my lips. Instead, he licks his lips in a way that should be outlawed. His eyes undress me, stripping me bare for only him, even in a class full of my students. There's a reason that the entire school worships at the feet of Sebastian.
Confident. Arrogant. Beautifully broken.
My cheeks heat, sending a flush down my chest as his gaze never leaves me. Both of us, lost in a moment too intense, too powerful to be surrounded by an audience but it doesn't faze him. Nothing does. The secret we share is enough to set us both a fire, and if I'm not careful, he'll ignite a blaze he can't control.
I tear my eyes away from his stare, cleaning my throat, "Books out everyone, page three hundred fifteen. Read the first four chapters, then write a brief summary, make sure to list your sources in MLA format. This is practice for your senior thesis."
A collective group of groans rings out.
"No complaining guys, come on. I am setting you up for the ten college papers you'll be writing for the next four plus years. You'll thank me later. "
"Doubt it," someone mutters in the back.
Trust me, these kids have no idea what's coming and how easy they have it right now. Now that class is quiet, and there's order in the room I use the moment to pass out last week's graded papers. When I make it to Sebastian's desk, he looks up at me from his chair with the same steel gray eyes that stared down at me just yesterday. I hand him the paper, and he glances at it quickly, a look of surprise on his face.
Instead of the failing grade, there's a C on the paper.
It isn’t an A, but I could tell that he took his time, researched the topics and put thought into his responses, even if it could use polishing and restructuring. This is what I needed from him all along. Effort.
I give him a small smile, and finish passing out the rest of the papers, then walk back to my desk where I lean against the side, watching everyone work. Once more, my eyes meet Sebastian's. This time he tosses me a cocky grin and pulls out his book, finally letting his eyes drop to the assignment in front of him. My stomach turns from just his stare, and it alarms me it takes so very little to get a response from me.
He has a power over me, and if we aren’t careful, it will destroy us both.
14
Sebastian
"Hey Bash, we're headed out, sure you don't wanna come to the Abbey with us?" Valentina asks, as she drapes herself across Rhys like a second skin. Seeing him with anyone, especially someone like Valentina, is still fucking shocking. He's so… him. Dead inside. Wilted like a fucking flower. It's hard to see him truly care about anyone. I keep my thoughts to myself though, because even if he is a broody asshole, he's my best friend, and I almost fucked this up for him once.
"Nah, got a shit ton of homework to catch up on but you two enjoy yourselves." I shoot her a wink, grinning when her cheeks flush red and Rhys face turns murderous. As for him, he still hasn't accepted the fact that Valentina is actually going to have male friends outside of Rory, and even though I'm his best friend, he still hates when I flirt with Val.
Which is why I do it even more when he's around. Thankfully she’s forgiven me since the shit with Mara because I’ve come to appreciate the friendship between us. And fuck, I've only got eyes for the redhead that haunts my dreams and leaves me with the worst case of blue balls known to man.
"I'm not gonna lie, surprised you’re bitchin 'out for tonight," Alec says, walking out of his bedroom and shutting the door behind him.
"Haven't heard from my mom in a few days, gonna go up to my dad's office and see what's going on."
The truth is, I was going to tell my dad what an asshole he is and find out why my mother hasn't returned any of my calls. I'm worried about her and the feeling in my gut hadn't lessened any in the past two days so I was going to take matters into my own hands.
When I arrive at my father's building, I take the elevator directly up and brush right past his ditzy secretary, as she protests for me to stop, headed straight for the massive glass doors of his office. I wasn't in the mood to deal with his shit today, but here I am, once again coming to deal with my father's never-ending bullshit.
Bursting through the door, it slams open, causing my father to look up from his computer where he's holding the phone to his ear. His jaw is clenched, a grimace on his lips with his brows pinched in annoyance.
"Bart, I'll have to call you back, I've had a sudden meeting come up. Thanks." He slams the phone down on the receiver and stands, rounding the massive desk. "How nice of you to bust in here like you own the place, Sebastian. What can I do for you?"
He stalks to the door and slams it shut and presses the button to draw the electronic shades down. While my father had no problem speaking to me like a piece of shit, he didn't want the world to witness it, therefore jeopardizing his father of the year façade.
“Where is Mom?”
A dark grin tugs at the corner of his lips. “Where is yo
ur mother usually, Sebastian? Gallivanting around Paris if I had to guess, spending every dime I give her. Why don’t you call her instead of showing up at my office throwing a temper tantrum?”
“If you think this is a temper tantrum, I’d love to show you what I really came here for, father,” I spit as I walk over to where he stands, looking unbothered. Things have never been great between us, civil at best, but lately we were at each other’s throat every chance we got, like rabid dogs. I watch as the vein in his neck pops when he steps closer, getting in my face.
“You’ve gotten really fucking ballsy lately, and usually I’d appreciate it, but I suggest you remember who you are, Sebastian. My patience with you has worn thin, and you’re out of chances. I told you the last time you came here looking for a fight, to get your shit together. Per usual, you ignore what I have to say.”
With that I laugh, rage taking over the rational side of me, “You know what? Fuck you. I’ve been calling Mom, no answer at the house or on her cell. Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking child.”
I grit my teeth, taking a step back before this turns physical. After what he did to my mother, I have a hard time keeping my composure even being in the same room as him.
His beady, dead eyes stare back at me, my words touching nothing inside of him.
“If she knew what was good for her, she’d stop running her trap just like you. Seems like the two of you have that in common. I would hate for another accident to happen.”
“You son of a bitch,” I grunt before I’m rushing up to him, grabbing the lapels of his Brioni.
Before I can even think, his fist is raining down on my face, right in the fucking eye, causing my vision to dance. The sound of fist hitting flesh echoes through the room as he hits me.
He steps back, breathing heavy. “I warned you, and it’s the last time I will, Sebastian. Learn your fucking place. You’re an embarrassment to the Pierce name. Get out of my damn office before I have security toss you out on your ass. Keep this shit up and you and your mother will both be out, your last name be damned.”
I’m still seeing red, this motherfucker put his hands on me, but I know if I hit him back, it’ll be a shit storm of drama I don’t have time for. It would be giving him exactly what he wants, and I’m not giving this piece of shit the satisfaction.
“If my mother doesn’t call me back in the next week, I’ll go to every goddamn news station in the country and have your ass plastered on the nine o’clock news as a wife beater. Fuck you.”
15
Sebastian
Without knocking, I open the door to Presley's classroom and walk inside, shutting it closed behind me and flipping the lock. When she texted me earlier, I was shocked that she was the one doing the reaching out. She asked me to meet her in her class after school, and I figured it was about a grade, probably a failing one. Before I can even turn towards her, she speaks.
"Sebastian…” My name tumbles from her mouth in a breathless gasp. Her green eyes going wide as saucers when she sees my face. I forget about the blue and purple bruises surrounding my eye now that the pain has worn off some. Now, it's only slightly tender and instead of pain, I feel a fierce hatred for my father like never before. The anger distracted me enough to forget the shit.
"What happened?" Her heels click against the floor as she hurries over. Hesitantly, she takes my face in her hands, moving my head back and forth in the light to get a better look. "Did you get in a fight?"
When her thumb brushes against the underside of my eye, I wince reflexively at the pressure.
"I'm fine, it's nothing, Presley," I grumble, still not pulling from her grasp.
"Doesn't look fine. Who hit you?"
"You fussin’ over me, Pres?" I smirk.
With that, she drops her hands from my face and from my grasp, while rolling her eyes. She fidgets with the button on her shirt nervously.
"You weren't here yesterday, and I was… I was worried. Then you come back to class with a black eye and busted lip."
I shrug, not offering her any explanation.
This is what we do. I'll ask and she’ll dance around the truth. Something she excels at.
It was a dance I should know by now, and I took what I could get when it came to Presley, but now the ball was in her court I'd offered myself, fucking pleaded with her to give me something, give me anything and every time she's shut me down.
"Had some shit to take care of. I miss anything important?"
"No, no," she says quickly. "Just worried."
"Mhm."
She brushes past me to walk back around to her desk and take a seat, avoiding my gaze. Her red hair is pulled back to the side, exposing the pale flesh of her neck that I want to sink my teeth into. As usual in my presence, her cheeks are flushed red. I was starting to believe it was the attraction she tried so desperately to hide that always presented itself, like a secret that only I was privy t o.
Secrets were so much more fun when Presley was involved.
"The window I ordered should arrive this weekend, maybe Friday. You gonna be around?"
Her eyes lift up to mine, and she nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. That fucking lip, it would be the reason that I lose my mind. The thing that drove my past the brink of sanity.
I couldn't stop fantasizing about all of the things I wanted to do to her body, specifically those fucking lips.
And I'm tired of pretending.
"You ever wanted something so bad, so fiercely, that you'd move the goddamn Earth to have it?"
"Sebastian…" A warning, one I'm not heeding.
Fuck it. Fuck waiting. Fuck wrong. Fuck every single thing that tries to keep me from Presley.
"Answer the question, Presley."
I toss my bag on the desk next to me where it lands with a heavy thud.
Without waiting for her response, I walk around the desk and spin the chair to face me.
"Sebast—"
Her words are cut off by my lips as I take her mouth in a kiss that I feel all the way down to my goddamn toes. At first, she protests, her hands at my chest, pushing me away. I don’t relent, instead pushing through her hesitation, lacing both of my hands through the locks of her hair and pulling her closer to me.
I can feel the war that wages on in her mind. The line of right and wrong. What’s ethical, and what’s not. And then I can feel the moment she decides to let go. Let me in. Stop giving a fuck about what’s wrong and what’s right. She surrenders.
And she fucking melts.
Gone is the tension, the shit that was choking us the second we were in the room together. Instead, she comes alive with each swipe of my tongue against her own. Her hands fist in the cotton of my T-shirt, holding on like if she lets go, the spell will be broken.
I pull back, breaking our kiss, just to move my hands from her hair down to her throat, wrapping around the base of her neck. She stares back at me breathless, her lips a bruised shade of pink. Fuck, she's beautiful. So fucking beautiful. Her auburn hair is tousled and free from the tie that was holding it back from my hands being tangled in the strands and the look in her eyes is a frenzy of lust. I felt it in the way her lips moved against mine, the way her hands knotted in the fabric of my shirt.
Her pulse pounds against my palm wildly, her chest heaves. Everything about that kiss was everything I've spent my life running from. It moved heaven and fucking Earth. I felt the plates shift under my feet, pulling me closer to whatever orbit she was in. Didn't matter where she was, I'd find some way to her.
I knew then it was done.
It was too late.
I was a goner for Presley Ambrose and all the consequences that came with her.
We fought, we stayed away, she tried. I fucking tried.
But sometimes, shit is just meant to happen and all this kiss did was cement that whatever this is, it was meant to fucking be.
I lean closer, brushing my lips against her tender, thoroughly kissed lips once more and pull back whispe
ring, "Tell me it's wrong."
She looks away and her hair falls into her face, so I can no longer see her expression.
I let go of her throat to grab her chin and force her to look at me. This time she doesn't flinch or fight my touch.
"You can't fight this, Presley. Tell me you don't feel this shit."
She stands abruptly, putting distance between us, lacing her own hands in her hair as she sucks in a deep breath.
"Sebastian, this is insane!" she cries, her face crumpling in frustration. "You are my student. I am your teacher. I will lose my job, I would never be able to teach again. Oh god." Her head drops into her hands until she lifts her gaze locking with mine, "Can't you see how this is wrong? Everything about it is wrong."
I stalk towards her until my front hits hers. "Does it feel wrong? Hm?" I ask, grabbing her jaw to look at me. I don't miss the way she winces, and I loosen my grip. "Fuck what society thinks. Who gives a shit. I'm a grown ass man. Whatever it is, whatever this is? It's the only fucking thing that feels right anymore. You and I both know this is more than a fucking fling. That kiss proved it."
She squeezes her eyes shut, desperately trying to fight the fact that I'm right. I know with every bone in my goddamn body that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be, her with her. I'm so lost in this fucking world, constantly pretending, always being who everyone thinks that I am. But for the first fucking time in my life I don't give a shit about consequences or my father, or whatever the fuck anyone has to say.
"Tell me right now that you can't feel what I feel. Tell me that it's just me that feels this way. Say it."
She shakes her head over and over, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut. I'm still fucking here, and the emotions that she's feeling aren’t going to disappear simply because she's trying to hide. She's been hiding, running from whatever it is that invokes fear in her. But I see her.
