Bad Kind of Love

by Remi Rose

  Sitting up in my seat, I glared hard at the lady. She was clearly enamored with him, and wanted him to go. Fidgeting with her hands, I could practically see her shaking in her heels as she waited for his answer.

  I fixed my attention back on him now and he could sense it. Leaning back in his chair, he seems to be pondering the question on purpose. Leaving me on the edge of my seat, angry and flustered for absolutely no reason.

  He was just my asshole teacher who I couldn't stop thinking about.

  By the permanent scowl on his face I had a feeling he would say no, but a small part of me had its doubts.

  “What time?” He asks, sending my heart into a panic.

  The lady looks surprised but smiles big. “We're meeting at eight.”

  Was he seriously only saying yes to mess with me? There's no way he actually wants to go. Right?

  “Yah, I’ll go.” He nods with a brief upturned grin, and I feel like my whole body is about to explode with rage. Biting the inside of my mouth, I hold in the string of curse words that want to fly out at him. Not only did he lie about me disrupting class, but he agreed to going out with her.

  And I was jealous. Beyond jealous that this woman could make him smile, while I only seemed to infuriate him just by breathing the same air he did.

  “Great!” She exhales, pushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I.. uh.. I’ll meet you there.” She waves awkwardly before marching out of the class.

  He doesn’t respond as she walks out and I'm seconds away from confronting him. Gripping the corners of my desk, I’m ready to tear into him and once and for all figure out what his deal with me is.

  Why did he have such a blinding hate for me?

  The voice inside my head was pacing back and forth, desperately wanting to lash out but the sounds of laughter soon stopped me. Students started piling in, and I was left to contain my anger. Dropping my stare from him, I focused on my heavy breathing. Trying to think of anything that would calm me down, I quickly reached for my headphones and latched them over my head, letting the music take over. Slowly, in and out, my breathing matched the soothing sounds of the meditating beat that poured out of the headphones.

  Relaxed and calm, I drifted off until the dreaded bell rang and I now had to return my attention back to Mr. Fitzgerald.

  With his back to the class, he scribbles on the chalkboard, dragging the chalk down roughly and creating a squealing sound that sends a strain of shivers down my spine. Apparently everyone else in the class felt it too as they tensed up in their seats.

  Setting the chalk on the tray, he takes a step back revealing the words “Love or Tragedy.” As he spins around to face the class, his dark eyes roam over his students avoiding me altogether. This wasn’t new but with the lingering anger I still felt, I wish he’d at least glance my way.

  Grabbing a stack of books off his deck, he stops in front of each row and places a pile of them on each desk.

  “Pass the books back.” He orders, while sauntering back over to his desk and leaning his butt against the edge. He waits patiently for everyone to get a book, and once I’m passed one, I immediately look it over.

  The Letters of Abelard and Heloise

  It had a renaissance feel on the front cover but other than that, I didn’t know anything about the book.

  “Does anyone know the story of Abelard and Heloise?” He asks gauging the whole class.

  Crickets.

  The class is dead silent until a hand flies up.

  Mr. Fitzgerald focuses on Steven, a well-known pothead, and nods his head for him to answer.

  “I think I heard about them in a documentary I was watching…. something about a teacher fucking his student.” His voice sounded like a total stoner as the class burst out in chuckles.

  My eyes quickly shift over to Mr. Fitzgerald, and a murderous look is fitted across his features. Everyone knew he was a strict teacher, so they rarely made any attempt to cause a scene in class, but apparently Steven decided to break that today.

  “You’re right.” He pushes off the desk and stalks toward the front of the class. As the rest of the class seemed stunned that Steven was actually right, the strange coincidence that we were now going to be reading a book about a student and teacher relationship sent a whirlwind of emotions through me. Mr. Fitzgerald and I were the furthest thing from a romantic affair, but the thought that he chose this story by chance was too coincidental. “But their story was more complex than that.”

  “How?” Steven speaks up. “Seemed to me like he just wanted a taste of young pussy.”

  Jesus Christ. Apparently Steven had a death wish today.

  As the whole class erupted in laughter, I stayed quiet, curious to see what Mr. Fitzgerald would do. But he appeared as cool as a cucumber.

  “Dude, you really think a guy would risk his career and reputation for some pussy?” The guy next to Steven spoke up.

  Seriously? Were these guys stupid or what?

  “If she was a good lay.” He responds but the laughter quickly dies down as they notice Mr. Fitzgerald is standing with his feet crossed, eerily quiet.

  “Only a stupid man would risk his life for some pussy.” The crude words flew out of Mr. Fitzgerald’s mouth, sending a shock wave between my legs, almost as if my flesh was pulsating like it had its own heartbeat. “A smart man would steer clear.”

  “Are you a smart man Mr. Fitzgerald?” Vicky purred, trying to capture his attention but that only seemed to backfire on her.

  “As smart as they come.” He waves her off before grabbing a book off his desk. “Abelard was a stupid man who was blinded by love, and eventually paid for his sins. Blinded by the intelligence and beauty of a younger woman who, in the end, he was separated from because of their indiscretions.” He paces the room, with his brows furrowed. “Some argue their torrid affair was timeless, a true love story that lives on in their hundreds of letters, while others deem it as tragic. Just a perverse relationship between teacher and student.”

  I watched as he continued to pace deep in thought. Without thinking, my mouth opens and words start to fly out.

  “Perverse?” I scoff loudly, causing all eyes to land on me, including Mr. Fitzgerald. He appears almost shocked that I spoke up, staring at me like he’s making sure it was actually me who spoke. “There’s nothing perverse about two people being in love.”

  I believed there were different types of love. Unconditional, affectionate and familiar, but romantic love was still something I wasn’t sure about. And something told me that Mr. Fitzgerald wasn’t someone who believed in it.

  “What do you know about love?” His gruff voice shook the classroom as his dingy eyes took me in. Every student turned around in their seat to watch me squirm from his intimate question. While some stared with curious eyes, others couldn't help but grin in amusement. My eyes immediately dropped to the top of my desk, wishing I would have just kept my mouth shut.

  “I...I…” I mumble hearing the laughter of others ring out. With my cheeks flaring, my gaze connects with Mr. Fitzgerald’s unreadable expression. Still standing with his feet crossed, his eyes are solely fixed on me.

  “Love is a ticking time bomb, and in the end, it failed them both. What they had wasn’t romance, it was merely a sexual need that needed to be filled.” He stands a little taller as his words sink in. “An all-consuming lust that couldn’t be ignored. But love?” He shakes his head. “Love is nonexistent.”

  Surely we couldn’t be talking about Abelard and Heloise anymore. This was about him, and what his perspective on love was. His once unreadable eyes are now heated, but in a way that I could only make out. Maybe he didn’t just feel hate towards me, maybe it was something else. Something that lingered within him that he desperately tried to hide, but at times, he would slip.

  And I saw the raw hunger in them.

  “Now.” He quickly averts his eyes from me. “Over the next couple weeks we will be reading and discussing their letters.”

  O
nce his eyes leave mine, I feel almost angered but mostly confused. As he continued to speak to the class, I found myself drifting further and further away from his voice. Trying to formulate in my head what was really going on with Mr. Fitzgerald and me.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Becca

  After the bell dismissed us from class, I still felt red with anger. His resentment towards me only seemed to fuel me more, even if his words stung. Passing his desk where he sits back like a king on his throne, I avoid his dreary eyes at all costs. His eyes burned through me, waiting for the moment I’d give in and finally look at him, but it never came.

  Stepping into the hall, I immediately found Wes waiting for me with his back to the wall and a grin plastered across his face. His smiles were intoxicating, and I couldn’t help but beam back.

  “Hey you.” He pushes off the wall and stops in front of me. A ray of sunlight bounces off his sandy hair and down half of his face, almost like a spot light.

  It was fitting.

  I was standing with my best friend who also happened to be the most popular guy in school. Everywhere he went he had a metaphorical spotlight on him.

  “Hey, how was class?” I ask peering up into his baby blues. Every day was like seeing him for the first time, I was always found dumbstruck by his beauty. The slight dimples that formed on the corners of his mouth when he smiled or the way his nose twitched when he was upset.

  I memorized everything.

  “Eh, same as always.” He stares down at the new shirt I decided to wear today. Since the weather was warmer, I chose a striped top that formed to my chest and waist. He always seemed to notice when there was something new about me. “How about you? Was the devil any less devilish today?” He joked.

  “He was about the same.” I shrug, lying to him. Wes doesn’t know anything about the strange relationship between his father and me, and I could never bring myself to tell him. What would I say anyway?

  Hey Wes, your dad and I have a bizarre hate for each other and I, for some reason, can’t stop thinking about him.

  No.

  There’s no way that would go over well at all. So I did what I do best and that’s burying it deep inside so he never finds out.

  His mouth opened to talk, but my eyes caught a familiar flash of auburn hair and I immediately knew it was Josie. Wes seemed to have noticed the way my body stiffened and twisted his head to follow my line of vision. Nate had his arms entwined around Josie’s waist while her head was leaned back resting on his chest. They both appeared engrossed in a conversation, and Josie foolishly smiled at him like he was the moon to her sky. Not only did she act differently, she dressed differently too. She was a spitting image of Vicky Thompson, dressed in revealing clothes and over the top makeup she didn’t need.

  Every time I saw her, my heart dropped a little more. It was painful how she treated me like a complete stranger, but it was even more painful knowing I lost my best friend to Nate Hawthorne.

  “I have a question for you.” Wes steps in front of me, purposely blocking my sight from Josie. He stares down at me nervously and I find myself forgetting about my ex best friend.

  “Go on.” I grin chuckling at his bashfulness.

  “Do you wanna come over to my house tonight? Hang out? I figured since we practically see each other every day, we could… you know, chill at my house?” He shoves his hands in his pockets while his eyes focus on the ground.

  It wasn't like I was caught off guard by his question, but the thought of being in Mr. Fitzgerald's home sent a cool chill down my spine.

  I’d be in his space.

  Around his personal belongings that in no way Mr. Fitz would be okay with.

  But then I remembered his conversation with the dark haired lady this morning, he would be out tonight with other teachers, not at home.

  “Yah, sure. Why not?” I agree, causing his unsure posture to stand a little straighter. A relieved grin appeared across his face, pleased with my answer.

  “Cool, yeah…. we can watch movies, or do whatever you want.” He scratches the back of his head. “And order pizza or something.”

  It was kind of comical seeing the soon to be quarterback of South Carolina State all flustered and nervous. Most knew him to be a leader who led Westwood to the championship game, but really, he was just a normal guy who felt nerves like everyone else.

  “Yea, that sounds fun.” I nod. “How will Mr. Fitz feel about a girl coming over?” I ask even though I knew he wouldn’t even be home.

  “Who cares what he thinks? I doubt he’d even notice you being there.” He scoffs while wrapping his large hands around the straps of his backpack.

  “Yeah, you're probably right.” I lie. There’s no way he wouldn’t notice me. The air in the house would probably shift the moment my pinky toe set foot inside it. Over the months of me being his student, he figured me out quickly and always knew when my prying eyes were on him. So, I Doubt it would be any different in his house from his classroom.

  ******

  Stepping out onto the asphalt driveway, I feel the heavy smack of my heart as I stare into the devil's lair. I’ve seen the outside of the house many times, but the inside is what sends my heart into a frenzy. It was like walking into a haunted house. Not knowing what to expect, but you still felt a thrill for the unknown.

  My feet began to pull me towards the front door, and before I could even make it to the front steps, Wes was already opening the door.

  “You made it.” He grins leaning against the door frame with a gatorade bottle attached to his mouth. Dressed in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts and shoes, my mouth struggles to hold itself up. Drenched in sweat as if he just finished running a mile, my eyes drop down to the ripples on his chest and the way they flex as he swallows his drink.

  “I did.” I try focusing on the way his hair is slicked back out of his face, but like a magnet, I’m pulled back down to his toned body. “What were you doing in there?”

  With every ounce of strength I have, I peer up into his eyes as I come to a stop near the door. Chuckling, he drops the bottle from his mouth and holds it at his side.

  “Just working out.” He wipes the back of his palm across his forehead. “Gotta stay in shape after the way you’ve been feeding me your Aunt Claire's famous chocolate cake.”

  “Hey.” I point. “You don’t have to eat it.” I chuckle as my eyes drop down to the visible v that disappears under his shorts. My laughter dies down as my gaze turns hot and I feel the back of my neck begin to sweat.

  Teenage boys weren't supposed to have bodies like his. He was built like a man. Tall, well built and with endless muscles that were impossible to ignore. I always knew he would have a nice body, but seeing him naked like this was better than I anticipated.

  “You gonna invite me in?” I speak up after my ogling. Lifting my eyes, I catch Wes with his bottom lip in between his teeth as he watches me closely.

  “Yea, come in.” He motions his arm inside the house. With the gatorade still dangling from his fingers, he brings it up towards his mouth before taking one last gulp, and emptying the bottle. His movements are slow and deliberate as his eyes stay on me. In that moment, he reminds me of Mr. Fitzgerald.

  The way he stares at me is like I’m something to be broken and fixed. But in a flash, Wes’s eyes soften and I’m reminded he’s nothing like his father. They may have similar facial expressions, but I know deep down Wes was the good guy.

  Gathering up enough courage, I take a step inside the house. Passing Wes, I stop in the entryway and take in my surroundings.

  “Home sweet home.” Wes jokes as he closes the door behind him.

  My eyes wander over the small home, everything inside reminds me of your average family decor. From the brown leather sectional to the large dining room table, I was kind of shocked. I imagined it to be dungeon like, cold and uncomfortable, something more suitable for the devil. But perhaps there was a room that stored all that kind of stuff, and I had no doub
t in my mind that it was Mr. Fitz’s.

  “It’s.. cute.” I smile, realizing the walls were mostly bare. No family pictures, no anything.

  “It’s alright, I guess. It’s a roof over my head.” He shrugs while walking past me. “Let me show you my bedroom.”

  His eyes glance my way before disappearing down the hall and I’m left to follow him. I creep down the hall and stop at the doorway to his room.

  “He’s not here by the way. Jack.” He stands in the middle of the room, watching as I slowly step inside. “I guess he went out or something.”

  “Oh.” I nod. “That’s good.”

  Plopping down onto his bed, I begin messing with my nails, unsure about what to do.

  “You good if I go shower?” He stalks over to his dresser and reaches into one of the top drawers, pulling out some clothes.

  Still awkwardly sitting on the edge of his bed, I fidget with the plaid comforter that lies almost perfect across his mattress. His room was almost bare if it weren’t for the bed and lone dresser that stood across from it. No wall hangings, no pictures, not even the simple luxury of a TV.

  “Yah, go ahead.” I motion. “You stink anyway.” I wave my hand in front of my nose causing his head to drop in laughter.

  “You like my stink.” He teases as his voice seems to drop an octave. His aqua eyes glance down at my sitting form before pushing off the door and walking the opposite direction. My heart rate drops, almost like I was disappointed that he left.

  This wasn’t anything new. We could both be flirtatious at moments, but it never went past that. At times I wondered why he never made an advance towards me. Maybe it was our friendship he didn’t want to ruin? Or, he just didn't see me that way.

  It was as frustrating as it was confusing. But, in the long run of things, I knew it was for the best. Soon, we’d both be leaving for college and our friendship would fizzle out into nothing. He’d make new friends and forget about the girl from Valley Hill, while he’d forever be imprinted in my brain and heart.