Can't Have Him: A Student Teacher Romance

by Kate Hunt

  I feel a drop of rain land on my nose and pick up my pace, quickly moving out of sight of Liam. I’m barely halfway across campus when the drizzle turns into a downpour. Suddenly the bricks beneath my feet are slick, and between the rain coming down so hard and it being dark out, I can barely see where I’m going.

  Half-blindly, I hurry back toward my apartment. But as I’m taking the last set of stairs near the edge of campus, I slip and go tumbling down to the ground.

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod and struggle to stand up. A pair of strong hands helps me, and I find myself thanking the stranger before I look up into his face.

  When I do, I find James’s eyes looking back at me.

  He lets go of my arm.

  “Sorry,” he says, wiping water from his face. “I didn’t realize it was you. This rain is nuts.”

  “I know,” I say. I start to walk away, but when I put weight on my right foot, pain shoots up my leg. “Ow. Shit.”

  “Is your foot okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I try walking again, but I have to stop, it hurts too much.

  “Let me help you,” says James.

  “No,” I say.

  “You can’t walk. For fuck’s sake, Olivia. Just let me help you.”

  I sigh. What else am I going to do? Ask a stranger? Wait here and drown?

  “Okay,” I say. “Fine. Thank you.”

  We’re both absolutely drenched by the time we get to my apartment, and James grabs my bath towel out the bathroom and wraps it around me, then helps me over to the couch and takes off my shoes for me. Shivering, I watch him inspect my injury. He presses on my ankle and moves my foot around gently, asking me where and how much it hurts.

  “I’m pretty confident it’s just twisted,” he says.

  I let out a breath. “Okay. Thanks.”

  “Obviously, I’m not a doctor, though.”

  “You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

  He shrugs. And as much as I don’t want to, I can’t help but notice how his shirt is clinging to his upper body. I can practically see his abs through the fabric.

  Water continues to drip off of James onto the carpet. He suddenly takes notice of this, too.

  “I’m making a mess of your place,” he says. “And you should change into dry clothes. I’m going to leave you be. Do you need anything?”

  “No,” I say. “Thank you for helping me. I appreciate it.”

  “No worries,” he says.

  And then, like that, he’s gone.

  Moving at less than half-speed, I hobble into my bathroom, peel off my soaked clothes, and hang them up to dry. Then, naked and shivering, I hobble into my bedroom and pull on loose lounge pants and a clean shirt.

  Lying back onto my bed, I grapple with my feelings of gratitude for what James just did. It doesn’t change anything…but it does make me feel a little less disgusted with him.

  Only a little bit, though.

  Chapter Six

  James

  There’s no lecture the last day of class, just office hours. I’ve told the students they’re free to stop by any time before six to drop off their final paper and any extra credit assignments they might have completed.

  Not surprisingly, the overachievers are waiting outside my office door as soon as I show up.

  I thank the small group of students who are eager to turn in their final papers and wish them a happy winter break. After they leave, I spend a few minutes getting settled in my office and start to look over the papers that were just handed in.

  I’ve just reached the end of the second page of one of the papers when I hear a soft knock on my door. When I look up, I see Olivia standing there, paper in hand.

  “Hi,” she says, handing her paper over.

  I take it from her. “How’s the ankle doing?”

  “It’s fine now,” she says. “I think my clothes have finally dried out, too.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, mine too.”

  “Oh. I also have—” She reaches into her backpack and pulls out another piece of paper. “Extra credit.”

  “Great. Thank you.”

  She nods. She starts to turn to leave.

  But then I say, “Wait. Olivia.”

  And she stops and looks at me.

  “Do you have a minute?” I ask.

  “Um…sure,” she says.

  “Come in. Take a seat.”

  “Should I close the door?”

  “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind.”

  She does, then takes a seat. I can see the apprehension in her face, but I need to go through with this. I can’t let her go the rest of her life without knowing the truth.

  “I lied to you,” I say. “I lied about cheating on my ex.”

  Olivia looks confused. “What? Why?”

  “I had to tell you something truly awful to make you not like me anymore. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t feel it was necessary. I’m sorry for lying to you.”

  Olivia stares at me. “Is that the only thing you lied about?”

  “Yes. Well—no. I lied about breaking it off with my ex. She was the one who ended it. But that’s it. I promise.”

  Stiffly, she says, “Well, thank you for telling me.”

  “I feel terrible about it, Olivia. It’s been eating me up since I said it to you. It really has. And ever since that day, I’ve questioned whether it really was as necessary as I thought it was. But it’s too late to do anything about it now. All I can do is come clean. And apologize. I’m sorry, Olivia. From the bottom of my heart. I’m sorry.”

  Slowly, she nods. She takes a few moments to digest what I’ve just told her. “I mean…I see why you did it.”

  “I know this is the last time you and I are going to see each other,” I say. “But if we ever cross paths again, please know that I’ll always be honest with you.”

  She nods again. Then she stands up, and so do I. She looks at me, hesitates, then turns and opens up the door to my office.

  “Bye, James,” she says.

  “Bye, Olivia,” I say, my heart throwing itself against the inside of my chest as she walks away.

  By some small miracle, all of my students turn in their final papers with time to spare. After double-checking to make sure I’ve received one from everybody, I pack up my things and head out of my office. It’s completely quiet out in the hall.

  Then I hear footsteps.

  Rushing footsteps.

  I look up and see Olivia approach.

  “Olivia?” I say.

  She stops a few feet in front of me, out of breath.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask. “Olivia, what’s—”

  “That can’t be the last time we see each other,” she says. “It can’t.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “James,” she says, pleadingly. “You know what I’m saying.”

  I almost kiss her. I come so fucking close to cupping her face in my hands and kissing her. But, with great difficulty, I pull myself back.

  “You’re still my student, Olivia. Until I grade your paper and submit your final grade, you’re still my student. And I’m not going to cross that line.”

  She bites her lip. “Then we’ll wait.”

  “You realize I’m going to be biased though, now, when I grade your paper, right?”

  “So grade them blind.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Okay. I guess I could do that.”

  Olivia holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t have my number.”

  She’s right. I pull my phone out of my pocket and hand it over. She types in her info and hands it back with a smile. “Call me after the grades are submitted?”

  “I will. I promise I will.” I swallow. “Fuck, Olivia. You don’t know how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

  “You’re wrong,” she says. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  Chapter Seven

  Olivia

  Two da
ys later—two days that feel like an eternity—I get a call from James. As soon as I see his name pop up on the screen of my phone, I laugh. James From The Bar.

  “Hey,” I say, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Hey,” he says. “Are you free for dinner tonight?”

  “Well…I did have plans to eat boxed macaroni by myself…”

  Within the hour, he’s buzzing my apartment and I’m flying out the door, calling out a goodbye to Emma.

  “Have fun getting laid!” she calls back, and my cheeks immediately turn pink.

  I think they’re back to normal, though, by the time I make it downstairs to meet James. When I step out of the apartment building, his eyes widen at the sight of me. I’ve got on a dress that hits at mid-thigh and I’ve curled my hair into loose waves.

  “Wow,” he says. “You look great.”

  “You too,” I say. The button-up shirt he has on beneath his jacket isn’t clinging to him as tightly as his shirt was that day in the rain, but it still looks damn good on him. “Where are we going again?”

  He grins. “It’s a surprise.”

  We walk up the block and get into his car, and then he takes me about a fifteen minute drive away to a quaint little restaurant in the middle of a residential neighborhood. For the next two hours, we eat one of the best meals I’ve ever had while actually getting to know each other. We talk about everything, from the way we grew up to our aspirations for the future. I tell him about how I want to work in a museum after I graduate, and he tells me that he has a few connections that he’d be happy to hook me up with.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I say. “I mean, it’s really nice of you to offer. But I want to make headway on my own.”

  “Well, I’m here to help if you change your mind,” James says.

  After we finish dessert—a molten chocolate cake that we share—I not-so-accidentally let my leg brush his under the table. He looks at me with longing in his eyes.

  That is, more longing than he’s been looking at me with this whole evening.

  “Should we get out of here?” he says.

  “Yes,” I say. “We should.”

  The first kiss James and I share happens in his car before we even drive away from the restaurant. His lips are just as kissable as they look: soft yet firm, and just the right amount of wet. The second kiss happens immediately after. And so does the third. Then, reluctantly, we pull apart so that James can drive us back to his place.

  The minute we step into his apartment, we pick up right where we left off. James cups his hands around my face and kisses my lips over and over again. I melt against him, so happy that we’re finally able to be intimate with each other like this. And when I start to explore his body with my hands…oh, God. I already know that he’s so going to be worth the wait.

  James scoops me up and I let out a little yelp of delight. He carries me into his living room and sets me down on the couch.

  Grinning up at him, I say, “So, Professor…was I a good student this semester?”

  “You were excellent, Miss Williams.”

  “Really? I don’t deserve any punishment?”

  James laughs. “Maybe another time. Right now you deserve every good thing.”

  “I guess I can settle for that,” I say.

  “You’re gonna have to,” he says, pulling down the zipper on the side of my dress. “Because I’m not going to stop until you’re screaming my name.”

  With my dress loosened, he pulls it off, then unclasps my bra and throws it aside. I ache with pleasure as he plants kisses over my breasts and then lowers himself down between my legs. With one hand, he pulls off my panties, and then with both hands, he pushes my knees apart.

  I feel like I might explode with desire for him.

  And when he lowers his mouth and drags his tongue over my clit, I can’t help but let out a loud gasp.

  James smiles up at me. “Want me to keep going?”

  “Please.”

  His smile widens, like I’ve just told him he’s won the lottery, and then he turns his attention back to my clit. This time, when he pleasures me, he doesn’t let up. He keeps at it until I’m gasping uncontrollably, until I’m telling him I’m close to coming.

  And then, torturously, he stops.

  “I’m so close,” I gasp. “Please. Keep going.”

  But he ignores me. He sits up and pulls off his shirt, then his pants. When he yanks down his boxers, I swallow at the sight of his thick cock.

  “Please tell me you’re going to fuck me,” I whimper.

  “I’m going to fuck you,” he says, grinning as he rolls on a condom. He lowers himself between my legs and kisses me on the mouth—a deep and passionate kiss that takes my breath away. When he enters me, I have to pull my lips away from his to cry out.

  “Come for me, Olivia,” he murmurs into my ear.

  “Oh, God,” I moan.

  “Come,” he commands.

  “I’m going to—fuck, I’m going to—”

  And I scream out his name, again and again, as the waves of pleasure crash over me.

  James. James. James.

  Chapter Eight

  James

  1 Year Later

  When Olivia calls me from the museum to tell me she’s not going to be home for another thirty minutes, I let out a sigh of relief. I’m running behind, too, and I’ll take all the extra time I can get.

  “No worries, babe,” I say. “Dinner will be waiting.”

  “Yeah, it better be,” she says in her mock angry voice. We both laugh. “Okay. See you soon.”

  So much has happened in the last year: Olivia graduated from the university, she got a job at the museum she had her heart set on, and I asked her to move in with me. And since being with Olivia, I haven’t had that recurring dream where Isabella tells me she’s out there. Because I’ve found her. I’ve found Olivia, that is. Without a doubt, she’s the one I’m supposed to be with.

  Forever.

  Enough reflecting, though—right now, I need to get this shit done. I check on dinner again, then grab the candles I picked up this afternoon and arrange them around the apartment. Today’s my day off, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I spend all morning shopping for all the stuff I needed to pull tonight off.

  Well, shopping for everything except for the engagement ring, that is. I’ve had the ring for weeks now, hidden up on a shelf in our bedroom closet.

  After setting the last candle in place, I step back and survey the room. With the candles everywhere and the table set for dinner, the place looks pretty damn good. Now I just need to spruce up myself—I’m not about to propose to Olivia all sweaty in an old t-shirt.

  I jump into the shower and step out of the bathroom ten minutes later freshly washed off and changed. To my surprise, though, Olivia’s already here.

  “What are you doing home already?” I say, moving toward her to kiss her cheek.

  “Things wrapped up sooner than I expected,” says Olivia. She glances around. “What’s going on? Where’d all these candles come from? It makes it look like you’re about to—” Then, suddenly, her eyes go wide, and she cups a hand over her mouth.

  “Oh my God,” she says. “Did I just ruin something?”

  I laugh. “No. But will you do me a favor and close your eyes? I just need…like…two minutes.”

  “Okay.” Olivia shuts her eyes. “Your two minutes start now.”

  Like a madman, I grab a box of matches from the kitchen and rush around lighting all the candles. Then I go into the bedroom, scramble to get the ring down from the shelf in the closet, take a deep breath, and go out to take Olivia by the hand.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I tell her.

  “You have exactly ten seconds,” she says.

  I lead her by the hand into the living room, then get down on one knee in front of her.

  “Five…four…three…” she says.

  “Two, one,” I say.

  She opens her eyes and takes
in her surroundings: the candle-lit room, me kneeling before her.

  “Oh, James,” she says, her eyes immediately filling with tears.

  “I love you, Olivia,” I say. “I love you more than anything in this world. You make me happier than I could ever put into words. But I’ll be even happier if we can be husband and wife. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” she cries out, and falls into my arms. We laugh and kiss each other. I slide the ring onto her finger. It’s a perfect fit.

  “I love you so much, James,” she says. “I can’t wait to be married to you. And have babies with you. And grow old with you.”

  “What was that second part again?” I ask.

  “Um…babies?”

  “Uh huh,” I say, kissing her neck. “That part. How many babies are we talking about?”

  “One? Three? Seven? Who knows.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to start with one.”

  “Unless we get lucky and have twins.” She runs a hand up my chest. “And speaking of getting lucky…”

  “Say no more.”

  We undress each other with feverish desire. Seconds later, when I thrust into her, she feels so incredibly good.

  “I love you,” I murmur, sinking into her again.

  “I love you, too,” she says, and pulls my mouth down to hers. Candlelight flickers wildly around us as I make love to her—slowly, deeply, sensually. And when we come together, it’s the most unbelievable feeling in the world.

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  Sneak Peek: Take Me

  In some ways, I’m a typical college student. I pull all-nighters. I’m broke. I’ve eaten more than my fair share of ramen noodles. But in other ways, I’m the furthest thing from a cliché. I don’t party. I don’t have random sex. (In fact, I’ve never had sex at all.) And, believe it or not, I actually love going to class. This most recent semester—spring semester of my junior year—I got to take some some amazing classes, like “Forbidden Romance in Literature” and “Heroes and Villains.” Maybe it’s super nerdy of me to admit, but I’m actually sad that the semester is over.