I was so getting kicked out of school.
Either that or… I don’t know, going to hell?
My eyes strained to see Tristan as he rounded the corner to his room. If I was going to hell, I’d at least get an eyeful on the journey.
****
By the time I managed to make myself presentable, I already felt like I was running late. Something about Tristan’s controlling demeanor had me rushing through the shower like I was going to get scolded if I didn’t dress fast enough.
“Bacon?” his warm voice asked the minute I stepped foot into the kitchen. “I assumed you’d want more coffee, but I wasn’t sure what you normally eat for breakfast, so I kind of fixed everything.”
A white towel was on one shoulder while he hovered over the stove. His back muscles flexed through his crisp white shirt. My eyes lowered to his tight dark-wash jeans and just stayed there for a minute, not necessarily staring, more like… okay, so I was staring. It was weird. I’d never been the type of girl to check out a guy like that. I’d been surrounded by beautiful all my life.
But Tristan was a different type of beautiful. He was controlled, orderly, yet, at the same time, chaotic. Yeah, it made no sense to me either.
“Lisa?” Tristan looked over his shoulder.
I jerked my gaze up and felt my cheeks blush again. “Yeah?”
“You didn’t answer.”
“I was, um…” I chewed my lower lip. “Thinking about class.”
“Which class?” he teased, his eyes scanning my body heatedly before returning my gaze.
“Yours.” I swallowed and regained my confidence as I took a seat at the breakfast bar. “Ever since getting scolded, I’m super paranoid about being early.”
“Scolded.” Tristan handed me a plate and started piling bacon and potatoes onto it. “If I was scolding you, you’d know it.”
“Why do I feel like that’s a double meaning?”
He shrugged. And that was it. No flirtation. Nothing.
We ate in silence.
And I wish I could say it was awkward. But it wasn’t. He read the newspaper; I asked him random questions. We both drank our coffee, and, once I was finished, I loaded the dishes in the dishwasher — even though he’d tirelessly asked me not to help. By the time I knew what was happening, we were driving toward school.
Nervousness attacked me the minute we pulled into a parking spot. I had a half-hour to go back to my dorm room, grab my stuff, and go to class. His class.
“Lisa,” Tristan turned off the car and stared straight ahead. “It was fun but—”
“But you’re my professor. I know.”
“Right.” He drew out the word slowly. “I just…” His face scrunched up with what I could only assume was anger; a muscle in his jaw jumped. “I’m a bad idea.”
“So it’s you, not me?” Smiling, I kept my voice light, trying to bring back the playfulness and ease of the morning.
“Yeah.” He nodded curtly. “That’s a good way of putting it. Our relationship is best served as a strict teacher-slash-student relationship. Hell, it was a bad idea even coming down here in the first place.”
“To the party?”
“To the school.” He sniffed and pressed his lips together in a firm line. “You should get to class.”
“But—”
“Lisa.” He finally turned, his face indifferent. “We’re done here.”
“Excused like a toddler.” I nodded, hurt that he would treat me that way after holding me last night, kissing me, making love to me with his mouth. Teacher or no teacher, I still deserved some respect, right? “You treat all your one-night stands this way?” Maybe that was too far, but whatever.
“Had you kept your mask on, that may have happened, but now that I know who you are…”
His voice trailed off, and I couldn’t help but finish it with “What you are.” Guilt and shame hit me square in the chest, replacing the irritation I’d initially felt. He didn’t need to know the details. It either scared guys away or made them think it was an invitation for something more.
I opened my mouth to speak but had nothing. I was hurt, angry, feeling a bit rejected… a lot scolded. And the worst part was I knew he was right. He didn’t owe me anything. But I wanted him to; I wanted him to say that that one night was enough to make me like a drug to him. Enough to make him want to break rules.
But I knew that wasn’t my reality, not my life.
Guys didn’t do that for girls like me; they never had, never would. It sucked, because I’d seen guys like Gabe and Wes ready to fight wars for the girls they loved. Music and TV would have you believe that every girl has a hero; she just needs to find him first.
It was not true.
It would never be true.
“Right.” I bit my lower lip to keep it from trembling and unbuckled my seatbelt. When I slammed the door behind me, I fought tears the entire way to the dorm. Confusion was at the forefront of my mind. He’d kissed me with passion. I knew he felt what I felt, that weird unexplainable pull. But that pull isn’t ever enough, not when you have the entire world stacked against you.
Not when your dead ex-boyfriend still mocks your every waking moment and nightmare. Not when his voice is all you hear when doubt creeps in.
“Never enough,” he whispered.
“I own you,” he taunted. “Who would want you anyway? You’re damaged, so damaged you’re lucky I even touch you.”