“Not my fucking problem. Call Wade.”
She looks down. “I haven’t seen or talked to Wade since you… you know.”
“Like I said, not my problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do.”
“Just give me half the vineyard and I’ll be out of your life for good. You have the money, Alistair.”
“Yes, I do have the money, but it’s my money, and I’ll be damned if I let you have a penny of it.”
“You’re so fucking selfish. I gave you the best years of my life!”
I roll my eyes. Here she goes with the over-the-top drama. She makes it sound like we were together for decades, not seven years, four of those as a married couple. Eight years older than me, she hated when gossip magazines mentioned our age difference, so “the best years of her life” speech isn’t a surprise coming from her.
“Sorry, honey. This source has dried out. Good luck finding another idiot who believes your bullshit.”
I walk around her and push the door open. Just before I shut it in her face, she says, “You’ll regret this, Alistair.”
Even her last words are unoriginal. What was I thinking when I married her? I can’t even blame my mistake on a spur-of-the-moment bad decision. We dated for three years before I proposed. She’s a very attractive woman; I can’t deny that. The brunette version of Jessica Rabbit, I couldn’t resist her voluptuous curves. But it was Nadine’s drive to succeed that made me fall for her in the end.
Since there’s no chance I’ll be able to rescue my mood from the sour pit now, I turn my phone back on. Might as well deal with all my problems since I won’t have any peace of mind tonight anyway.
I have ten missed calls from Enzo—no surprise there—plus a bunch of text messages. He left only one voice mail, which I don’t bother listening to. I call him back instead. He answers on the first ring.
“About fucking time. Why don’t you answer your damn phone?”
“I was working. What’s so urgent?”
“Did Nadine contribute anything to the purchase of the vineyard?”
“Hell no. I paid for it with my money.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure.”
What is that viper playing at now?
“Well, her lawyer is claiming she paid for part of it. If that’s the case, then she would be entitled to half according to your prenup contract.”
“That’s complete BS.”
“I’ll have to look at your bank statements. If her lawyer can prove you used money from your joint bank account to purchase the vineyard, he might have a case.”
“You’d better make sure that doesn’t happen, Enzo. That’s why I pay you so much.” I pinch the bridge of my nose because I can’t remember if I used money from our joint account or not. Fuck. “Nadine was waiting for me in front of my house.”
“Why?” I notice the change in Enzo’s voice.
“What do you think? She wanted money, said she was broke.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I refused.”
“Listen, be careful with Nadine. I know the type. She’s a snake, and she’ll go to any lengths to get what she wants.”
I scoff. Enzo is preaching to the choir. It might have taken me a while to figure that out, but now I know what kind of woman Nadine is, which brings my current situation to the forefront of my mind.
“I have to tell you something not related to Nadine.”
“Do you want me to listen as your lawyer or as your friend?”
“Both.”
“Ah shit. What did you do now, Alistair?”
I let out a long sigh, thrusting my hand in my hair. Shit, I can’t believe Chiara is my student. My fucking student. I’m so screwed.
When I don’t answer Enzo right away, he continues. “Your silence is making the lawyer side of me very nervous.”
Not wanting him to start charging me for this call, I blurt, “I slept with one of my students.”
“You did what?” Enzo screams so loudly, I have to pull the cell phone away from my ear.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I met her in Tuscany. We spent the weekend together. She wasn’t a student when we hooked up.”
“But let me guess, she’s a student now? In what class?”
I hesitate again. Shit, Enzo is going to love this. “Writer’s room.”
There’s a moment of silence before he bursts out laughing. I wait a few seconds before I cut him off. “Are you done?”
“Sorry, man. But you have to see the irony in this.”
“Yes, the irony is killing me. What the fuck do I do?”
“First, let’s clear something up. How old was she when you fucked her?”
I sigh loudly. “I didn’t know then. We didn’t exchange personal information save for our names, but that was the first thing I checked after she walked into my classroom. She was legal.”
“Thank fuck. But hell, Alistair. How can you be so fucking stupid?”
Enzo is not wrong. I wasn’t thinking and completely let my attraction to Chiara take over everything. I had gone to Italy to forget all my problems, after all.
“She looked and acted older,” I reply defensively. “I thought she was in her twenties.”
“Well, technically, you did nothing wrong. You didn’t break any rules. Can the girl keep her mouth shut?”
Anger surges out of nowhere. I don’t like hearing Enzo speak about Chiara with such a condescending tone. “Trust me. She wants nothing to do with me. I’m sure she’ll have a boyfriend by the end of the week.”
“Hmm, and does that bother you?”
“Of course not. She’s a student and therefore off-limits.”
“And if she wasn’t?”
I open my mouth to reply but pause for a moment. The truth hits me then. If Chiara wasn’t my student, I would go after her with everything I have, mindless of Nadine and the ongoing divorce.
“Hello, Alistair? You still there?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t answer my question, but never mind. Your silence says it all.”
I let out a heavy exhale. “What the hell do I do, Enzo?”
“You know what I would tell you as your lawyer, but as your friend? I say stay the fuck away from her. You can’t afford that kind of rumor spreading around. That would give Nadine all the ammunition she needs to clean out your bank account.”
Don’t I know that? But staying away from Chiara will be a nightmare.
This semester is going to hurt like a mother.
16
Chiara
Robbie and Harold took me home after Alistair’s class, and Harold apologized a million times for the mishap. He’d packed the special brownie by accident. He seemed sincere, and I already have too many problems in my life to hold a grudge against the guy.
Once at home, I crashed, which meant fewer hours to worry about the sudden reappearance of Alistair in my life. But this morning, my chest felt heavy, yearning for someone I can’t have. Pretending everything is fine while I navigate my second day at DuBose is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see Alistair at a moment’s notice.
I have lunch with Robbie again, but no Harold or Valerie, the other girl in the drama program.
“I still can’t believe you ate one of Harold’s magic brownies.” Robbie shakes his head. “You have to write a comedy screenplay with that scene.”
“Trust me, it wasn’t funny.”
“At least you didn’t get caught by Mr. Greene.”
I frown. “Who?”
“Jesus, you were high. Mr. Greene, your writer’s room teacher.”
“That’s not my teacher. I got Alistair.”
Robbie gives me a strange look, and it takes me a second to realize my mistake. “I mean Mr. Walsh.”
His green eyes bulge out of his skull. “Shut up! You got Alistair Walsh? Oh my God. I can’t believe it. I thought he wasn’t t
eaching that class this semester. That’s why I didn’t sign up.”
My stomach coils tightly. I should change the subject before I have another slipup. But my tongue has a will of its own.
“What’s so special about him?”
“Uh, hello? First of all, the man is an Adonis. I’d so do him if he wasn’t straight.”
My face heats as I remember my time in Alistair’s bed.
“He’s okay,” I reply.
“Okay? Woman, are you blind? In a land of mortals, the man is a god. But again, you were high, so you probably didn’t notice. Wait until you get a load of him when you’re sober.”
This conversation is making me super uncomfortable. I don’t want to hear Robbie objectify Alistair like that. I don’t have any claim on the man, but I’m getting jealous nonetheless.
I glance at my phone and realize I’m late for my meeting with Josh at the library.
“Cazzo! I have to go.” I jump off the bench.
“Where are you going?” Robbie asks.
“To meet someone to work on an assignment for Mr. Walsh’s class.”
“All right, girlie. See you later.”
DuBose’s library is semi-busy with a few empty desks available in the middle of the atrium. The school went with a modern-museum vibe for the interior, meaning the walls and furniture are all white with a few splashes of color here and there in the shape of modern sculptures and paintings. Floor-to-ceiling windows bring plenty of light into the open space.
Josh is waiting for me near the information desk, staring down at his phone. He looks up when I approach and smiles. Faded jeans hang low on his hips, and the comfy-looking sweatshirt can’t hide the wide chest and taut abs underneath. He’s positively yummy, yet the butterflies in my stomach remain dormant.
“I was beginning to think you would stand me up,” he says.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. I spaced out and didn’t check the time.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you sure that’s all?”
I fidget where I stand. “What do you mean?”
“I know you were high yesterday,” he whispers.
Merda.
“That was an accident. I didn’t mean to get stoned. I’m not a pothead.”
He lifts his hands. “Hey, I’m not judging. But I do take my studies seriously.”
Josh’s implication makes me mad. But I can’t fault him for thinking the worst about me.
“So do I. Can we go now?”
“Sure. Ladies first.” He motions with his arm for me to go forward.
I choose the nearest free desk, keen for this meeting to be over already. Pulling my laptop out of my bag, I drum my nails against the desk. I don’t make eye contact with Josh while I wait for my computer to boot up.
“Chiara, I’m sorry, okay? I swear I’m not a jerk.”
I glance at him, surprised by his apology. My irritation simmers down.
“I’m sorry too. First impressions are important, and you didn’t have a good one of me.”
He smiles. “Start over?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
He extends his hand. “Hi, I’m Josh Flannigan.”
“Chiara Moretti. Nice to meet you.”
We both laugh at the silliness of this scene, but it does help lighten the mood.
My computer is finally on, so I open a browser window. “Do you have a screenplay in mind that you’d like to analyze?”
“I was thinking we could choose one from a successful blockbuster, an independent movie, and maybe a comedy?”
“All successful, right?”
“Yeah, I want to learn from the best.”
“I have a movie in mind. I’m not sure it’s considered independent, but it was super out there.”
“What’s the name?”
“Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet.”
Josh’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s a great movie. And so different. Yeah, we definitely need to analyze that.”
I download the screenplay from the school’s database.
“What else?” he asks.
“Since I picked the first movie, why don’t you choose the blockbuster?”
He groans. “You had to give me the hardest one.”
I chuckle. “Why is that hard?”
“There are so many good ones. How about Avatar?”
“Really? You want a rip-off of Pocahontas as your pick?”
Josh frowns at me. “I don’t agree, but okay. How about Aliens, then?”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“What? That’s a classic. Better than the first movie in the franchise—which was great, by the way. We’re definitely analyzing that screenplay.”
“Okay. That leaves us with the final pick. The comedy.”
“How about Election with Matthew Broderick and Reese Witherspoon?”
I tense immediately. Reese’s character has an affair with her high school teacher in that movie. My thoughts wander to Alistair, and I feel a sharp pang in my chest. I haven’t recovered from yesterday’s encounter. He looks even more alluring in his serious teacher persona. Why does he have to make me feel like I might combust on the spot with a single glance?
Stop obsessing about him, Chiara!
“Don’t you think there are better comedies?”
I so don’t want to analyze Election’s screenplay. Too close for comfort.
“Probably. I just caught it on TV the other night, and it got stuck in my head.”
We keep throwing names left and right, but we don’t agree on anything. It seems we have different ideas about what’s funny and not.
“This is impossible.” Josh tosses his pen on the table in frustration and leans back in his chair. “We should change genre.”
“No way. I want to analyze a comedy script. Let’s search for a list of the top comedy movies and see if we can agree on something,” I reply.
“Fair enough.”
I click on the first link, which gives us a well-curated list from more recent movies to old classics.
I’m halfway through the page when Josh tells me to stop. “That’s it. We should do Napoleon Dynamite.”
I twist my nose as I read the synopsis. “It doesn’t sound funny.”
“Trust me. That movie is great. We could watch it together.”
My shields go up automatically. His offer sounds innocent, but what if he sees it as an opening for more? I don’t want to add another complication to my life.
“Nah, it’s okay. If you say it’s good, I trust you.”
“You should watch it anyway, even if not with me.”
Shit. Did I offend him?
Chancing a glance at his face, I find him staring at his laptop screen with serious intent.
I turn back to my own screen, wrestling with feelings of guilt. Maybe Josh didn’t mean anything by inviting me to a movie session. But what if he did? The last thing I want is to lead him on. I came to DuBose looking for a clean slate, but somehow I found more drama here than I had back home.
I slept with my teacher. If that doesn’t earn me a scarlet letter, what does?
ALISTAIR
I catch a glimpse of them in the library, and it feels like I’ve been sucker punched. Jealousy rears its ugly head, making me see red. It’s completely wrong for me to want to punch a student in the face, but that’s what I want to do to Josh Flannigan. They’re not doing anything besides working on an assignment together, yet here I am, seething with white-hot rage.
That’s it. I’ve gone insane.
I turn around and get the hell out of there, having forgotten why I went to the library in the first place. One thing is certain: I need to get my head straight; otherwise, I’ll end up doing something stupid.
I pull my cell phone out and log into the dating app I downloaded after Nadine and I split. The app claims it will help me find my perfect match, but it’s nothing more than a glorified booty call. The two women I found through it had noth
ing in common with me. I took them out to dinner, fucked them, and that was the end of it.
Since the last time I logged in, I’ve accumulated over three hundred invitations to start a conversation. Jesus fucking Christ. I didn’t realize I was so popular.
I don’t have time to go through them all, so I delete everything without looking and start a search of my own. When the filter results only show young, pretty blondes, I realize I entered Chiara’s attributes in my search.
Fuck me.
Goldilocks has gotten under my skin, and I have no idea how I’m going to stop wanting her now that I’m forced to see her once a week.
I’m doomed.
17
Chiara
Three Days Later
I watched the comedy Josh suggested alone. Did I enjoy the movie? Sure. Was it the best comedy of all time? Not really. We met a couple of times this week to work on our assignment, and there were no more invitations to do anything together later. A relief. With that unwanted complication out of the way, we were able to establish an easygoing rapport. He seems to be a nice guy, very dedicated to his studies.
I didn’t bump into Alistair after his class. I’m glad writer’s room is an elective and I only have to see him once a week.
The assignment is due on Monday. None of my other teachers gave out big assignments with such a short deadline, but Robbie said Alistair is known for being hard core.
Today, Josh and I work at the library again on the final edits. We’re done in under an hour, and he doesn’t linger. He says he has to pick up his brother and bails before I even finish packing my stuff up.
Since school is done for the day, and I have no desire to go back to my apartment, I decide to take a stroll through my neighborhood because I haven’t had the chance to explore it yet.
My stomach rumbles loudly, and I remember reading somewhere that there’s a donut shop that has the best treats in town. I pull up my phone and search on Google Maps. Sure enough, there’s a big donut symbol on the commercial street behind my building. Ditzy Donuts. The name rings a bell.
Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance Page 9