Pushing the Limits: A Student/Teacher Romance

by Brooke Cumberland

  I curse under my breath and continue walking to my classroom. Hopefully, the universe will help me out and a crater will fall to Earth and land right on top of her, sparing me the time and energy of having to plot something myself.

  But just in case the universe doesn’t come through for me, I better start thinking of something myself.

  CHAPTER TEN

  MORGAN

  I remember waking up one morning in Ohio, the ground covered in fresh snow. Being born and raised in Southern California, it was a rarity to get snowstorms. On my way to work, I underestimated the conditions and slid my car right into a ditch. It flipped once and landed in the culvert, my head smacking against the window in the process and causing a slight concussion.

  The cliché of how your life flashes before your eyes is exactly what I wasn’t expecting. Ignoring the pain and relying on the anger to get through day to day, I hadn’t expected to see my life with her flash through my mind the moment I thought I could possibly die.

  As I lay in the hospital, I recalled those flashes, which brought up the very reason why I left in the first place. I hated that I thought of her at that moment. I hated that she even crossed my mind. I hated I gave her so many years of my life that ended up being wasted.

  So when my phone rings with her name flashing on my screen, all those painful feelings rush back in, anger boiling right back up inside.

  “Is there a reason you’re calling?”

  She clears her throat before responding. “I’m just checking up on you.” She pauses, but I don’t speak up. “I heard about Ryan.” Her words are genuine, but hearing her voice again makes me want to punch a hole in the wall, which I’ve done several times before because of her.

  “It was six months ago,” I reply harshly.

  “Well, I didn’t have your newest cell number. I ran into your mother last week and she gave it to me.”

  Of course she fucking did.

  “It wasn’t hers to give out,” I state firmly. She’s the last person I wanted to hear from.

  “Look, Morgan…” I hear her hesitant breath through the phone, and I’m quick to cut her off.

  “Don’t.” I hang up and let out a frustrated breath. She’s the last person I want to hear from or to have her pity. In fact, I didn’t want anyone’s pity. But Jennifer—the very person I was about to walk down the aisle with—I don’t want anything from her at all.

  “Morgan?” I hear Natalia call out from the hallway.

  “In here, Short Stuff.” I brush a hand over my face to wipe the firm lines off my face. The last thing I want is for her to worry about me when I’m always worrying about her. “Whatcha need?” I ask as soon as I see her waltz in.

  She sits on a chair and shrugs her shoulders. “There’s a dance tomorrow night.”

  “Oh?” I lift my brows. “What kind of dance?”

  “It’s stupid.” She lowers her eyes.

  “Natalia…what kind of dance?”

  “It’s just a Valentine’s Dance.”

  “You don’t want to go?”

  “No, it’s stupid.” I notice the little wrinkles around her lips, and I know there has to be more to the story.

  “Didn’t someone ask you to go with them?” I ask, wondering if eleven-year-olds still think boys have cooties or not. She stays silent, not moving or making a sound, and I know I’ve nailed the issue. “I take that as a no,” I say softly, hoping she’ll feel comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I know she’s grown up without a mom for half her life, so I assume her and Ryan were close and talked about everything. “Are you sure you don’t want to go and just hang out with your friends?”

  She finally looks up at me with a scowl. “No. I said it’s stupid, okay?” She stands up and marches out of my office, and I’m left with my jaw on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. She’s the one who came looking for me in the first place and mentioned the dance. Did that mean she wanted to talk about it? Why else would she bring it up then?

  I’m stumped as I try to think it through. I seriously have no clue what I’m supposed to do. Of course, she wants to go, but I guess the boy she wanted to ask her hasn’t asked her yet?

  Ah, fuck if I know.

  I turn my laptop off and walk out to find her. She’s in the living room flipping through channels, staring at the TV as if her life depends on it. I know she hears me walk in, but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

  I grab my keys off the counter and shout, “Come on. Let’s go.”

  She finally looks up at me, dumbfounded. “Where?”

  “To the store. You need a dress, don’t you?”

  Her face drops. “Do you have wax in your ears? I said I wasn’t going.” She turns away again. I don’t know if this is where I should be handing her a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or a magazine or something, but I’m not about to let Natalia mope around all night when I know deep down she wants to go.

  I walk toward her, grab the remote out of her hand and switch the TV off. “Hey!” she screeches, but I ignore it. I grab her by the arms, lift her up and toss her over my shoulder. “What are you doing?” she screams, kicking her legs and hitting me with her pathetic little fists. “Put me down!”

  “What? What was that? I can’t hear you over all the wax in my ears!” I walk out to the car and throw her in the passenger seat. “Buckle up.” I grin at her before slamming the door, and she flashes me a death glare.

  I get in the driver’s side and start the engine. I have no idea where to buy a dress for a girl, so I quickly call up my mother.

  “Hello, darling,” she answers.

  I’m in a hurry, so I bypass all the ritual greetings. “Where do I go to buy a dress for Natalia?”

  “Oh! What’s the occasion?”

  “A school dance. Where do I go?”

  “I’d go to Petunia’s on Stanley and Rivers. Does she need her hair done?” I turn and glance at her. Her hair is up in one of those messy knots. “Yes.”

  Two grueling hours later, I’m back home with a half-satisfied eleven-year-old and an appointment to get her hair done tomorrow afternoon. She’s pretending to be annoyed by my persistence, but I notice the corner of her lips tilting from the smile she’s trying to hide.

  As I’m tucking her in for the night, I kiss her forehead and say goodnight. She mumbles a response and just before I head out, she calls out my name.

  “Yes?” I turn and ask.

  I can’t see her eyes because she’s buried herself in the blankets, but she mumbles back a response. “Thank you.”

  The corner of my lips tilts up as I stare at the back of her head. “Anytime, Short Stuff.”

  The more I think about her, the more I think I’m going crazy.

  I left California for this very reason.

  To get away. To never get hurt again. To avoid putting myself out there and feeling vulnerable around someone again.

  But she makes me want to risk it. Not only my heart but everything that I’d jeopardize as well.

  Instead, I worry about hurting her. Aspen Evans could very well be the woman to bring me back to life or the woman to destroy me. The real question is would she ever consider letting someone like me in? My past has held me back in a lot of ways, but besides that, I’m raising an eleven-year-old child. Aspen’s so much younger than I am with a whole world of possibilities in front of her. Would she even take the chance?

  Better yet, could I even let her knowing that I’d possibly be holding her back?

  The self-doubt eats at me as I think it all through, but the more I think about it, the more I’m certain I’ve lost my mind.

  Besides that, right now I have Natalia and the fact that she is going to her very first school dance tonight. I don’t know how to feel about that, honestly. I’m freaking out. Add one more thing to the pile of things I’m not sure I’m doing right when it comes to raising her. At least my mom could help get her ready, which speaking of…

  “Come on, let me see!” I call out again, groa
ning at how long they’ve been. Natalia’s been in her room for hours with my mom. She got her hair and nails done this afternoon, so I can’t imagine what’s taking so long.

  “Just one more minute!” I hear my mom call back.

  I can’t hold in my sigh, but it’s not in frustration, it’s from the ache in my chest. This moment of seeing Natalia dressed up and ready for her first dance is something that Ryan should’ve been able to experience with her. He’d be so proud of his little girl but probably ready to threaten any little boys who tried to dance with his baby.

  Today really hits home that her dad won’t be around for all of these important milestones. I worry that all these special events in her life will be tainted with sadness because he isn’t here. When I came back, I made the decision to dedicate my entire life to making sure Nat was taken care of and help her heal so she can thrive, but moments like this break my heart.

  I grab a beer from the fridge, and by the time I slam the door shut, I see her walking toward me. She’s absolutely glowing in a sparkling blue gown with her hair up in curls and light makeup. Her smile is so wide, nearly touching her eyes.

  “Wow…” I smile. “You look beautiful, Shorty.” She blushes, and I know she’s going to have an amazing time.

  “Thanks.” She smiles wide again. “And thank you for doing this.” She brushes her hand casually along her dress. “Even if I think this whole dance thing is stupid.” She purses her lips together but tilts one side up in a crooked smile.

  “Well, even if it’s stupid, at least you’ll look good doing it.”

  She laughs and wraps her hands around me. “Thank you, Uncle Morgan.”

  “You’re welcome, Natalia.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head. “We should get going.”

  “Pictures!” my mother interrupts. “I need some pictures first.”

  Natalia releases her arms and groans. “You get one.”

  My mother manages to get seven, and when she’s satisfied, we head out.

  “Are you meeting some of your friends?”

  She stares out the window. “Amelia will be there.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “She has a date, though.”

  My eyes widen. Since when did eleven-year-olds date?

  “Meh, you’re too young to date anyway. Boys should still have cooties at your age.”

  She turns toward me and grins. “Oh, they do. Girls just don’t mind anymore, I guess.”

  “Hmm…well, you could always ask a guy to dance with you.”

  She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

  I reach over and pull her hand into mine. “It will, Shorty. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not anytime soon. But some day. You’re going to have guys waiting in line to dance with you.”

  “Well, if that’s true, you better tighten the deadbolts.”

  “No worries. I’ll just leave my rifle out in plain view.”

  “You don’t have a rifle.”

  “I could.”

  “But you don’t.”

  “Fine. I could get one, though.”

  “You’re ridiculous.” She laughs.

  I pull up to the school and watch as students fly out of cars all over the parking lot. They’re all dressed up, much more than I ever did at their age, but I guess times have changed.

  “Have fun, okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Call me if you want me to come get you early. All right?”

  She opens the door and steps out. “Fine.”

  “Bye!” I call out as she slams the door.

  And just like that, she’s walks away and joins the rest of the students flocking to the door.

  Red, pink, and white decorations cover the doors and windows of the school. It looks like a scene from the eighties and all I can do is smile at the memories of my previous Valentine’s Days.

  Before Jen, I never even acknowledged the stupid day. After Jen, I drank until the memories were a blurry reminder. I’d go out with the guys, pick up a chick, and bring her home. Of course, she thought it meant we were going to be a couple and have a future, but I made sure to clear that up by morning that there wouldn’t ever be a chance of that happening.

  I settle in with a beer and movie. Just as I kick my shoes off, my cell rings.

  It’s Natalia.

  “Shorty. Everything okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I-I just wanted to tell you thanks again.” I hear the giddiness in her voice, and I can’t stop the proud smile that forms on my face. “I’m really glad you made me go.”

  A sense of pride overwhelms me. This whole time I’d fear I was somehow screwing this up. I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time, but this gives me a little validation that it’s in the right direction.

  “Anytime, Natalia. I’m glad, too.”

  “I’ll call you soon, okay?”

  “Sounds good. Have fun.”

  We hang up, and I gladly stay in all night waiting for her call.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ASPEN

  “This is the dumbest holiday of the year,” Zoe groans, leaning an elbow on top of the bar.

  “It’s not even a holiday,” I counter. “But I get your point.” I take another sip of my beer as I sit across the bar from her. Zoe’s working at the bar tonight, and Kendall went out with Kellan for Valentine’s Day.

  “Before I got to know you, I would’ve totally pegged you for a girl who goes gaga over Valentine’s Day,” she admits.

  “Why’s that?” I wrinkle my nose. “Because I brush my hair and wear lipstick? Or is it the heels?” I crack a sarcastic smile.

  “It’s the whole package.”

  I purse my lips and lean an elbow on the bar top. “Guys are too needy,” I begin. “I like focusing on my paintings and classes. It’s hard for guys who aren’t passionate about what I’m passionate about to understand that. It’s like at first they’re all ‘sure, no big deal’ and then within a couple weeks, they start complaining about the lack of attention I give them or wanting to go out all the time. And I…I don’t want that.”

  “Well, that’s an easy fix,” she says matter-of-factly. “Find a guy who’s passionate about what you’re passionate about.”

  “I think all guys are passionate about sex,” I tease.

  She glares at me with a smirk. “You know what I mean.”

  I snort. “It’s not exactly that easy.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s just like when famous people marry famous people. They get the extreme work schedules, the traveling, the paparazzi, the tabloids.”

  “Yeah, and most of them end up in divorce!” I defend. “If you actually research famous people who stay married, you’ll notice it’s those who rose to fame together, or around the same time, and the ones who married a non-famous person. Or someone less famous than they are. Having two people with crazy, strict schedules and cameras in the face all the time wouldn’t make them understand more—it’d make them twice as crazy.”

  “Well, you aren’t famous. You aren’t avoiding the cameras and being pressured to look half your age.”

  “No, but being into something that someone else isn’t doesn’t work either.”

  “But don’t you attend a college primarily based on the arts?” A wrinkle forms in-between her eyebrows, and I sigh.

  “Yes.”

  “So…shouldn’t it be like swarming with guys who are passionate about arts and all that stuff?”

  “You’d think so. But then you have two people who are overly passionate about the same thing and then neither of you care about spending time together.”

  “Wouldn’t you spend time together doing the same thing? Like when couples watch movies together because they’re both really into action movies, or when couples run or workout together because they’re both really into fitness?” She turns the dishwasher on before slicing the lemons. “I think you’re just making
excuses.”

  I roll my eyes and scowl. “I’m just a realist, that’s all.”

  “A pessimist is more like it.”

  I don’t get the chance to respond because a few customers start flagging her down. The before dinner rush begins so I take my drink and walk back to my booth. I sit alone as I watch the overly-PDA couples suck face.

  I think about Professor Hampton and how we share the same passion. Putting the fact that he’s my professor aside, I wonder if someone like him and someone like me could actually work out. I’m not exactly emotionally stable, but he makes me want to try. He makes me want to try to have something more.

  “Dude, why are you sitting here alone?” I look up and see Kendall shifting into the seat across from me with a beer in hand.

  “Because there are literally no single guys here tonight. It’s all couples and desperate chicks.”

  “You’re a desperate chick.” Her words oozing sarcasm and pity.

  I glare at her and take a drink of my warm beer. “If I’m desperate, then those chicks literally have no standards at all.” She snorts. “Why are you here, anyway?” I ask.

  “Kellan got called into work.”

  My brows furrow. I know she’s lying. “Really? Your car salesman boyfriend got called into work?”

  “Y-yeah.” She quickly grabs her beer and takes a swig. “They had someone call in sick last minute and they needed an extra car detailer.”

  “Hmm…really?” I’m not buying her shit for a second.

  “Yup. So are we going to find you a hookup or what?”

  “I seriously doubt it.”

  “Oh, come on. The choices can’t be that bad. Look! A group of guys just walked in.”

  I check my phone and notice the time. “It’s after midnight. They’re in here looking for a drunk, easy lay.”

  She narrows her eyes, confused. “Isn’t that exactly what you want?”

  “Oh, well, yeah,” I stumble, confused at my own words. “Of course.”