Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance

by Michelle Hercules

  “Yeah. This was one of the easiest tasks on the list. It’s probably why Mrs. Weiland assigned it to Lucas.”

  “Lucas? Oh, you mean that obnoxious guy.”

  “Yep. Now he’s stuck with something much more taxing.” Alistair grins at me while his eyes shine with mischief, melting my heart on the spot. Damn it!

  I look away so he can’t see the yearning in mine. “Well, I’d better get going, then.”

  “You changed your mind about watching the movie?”

  I freeze for a split second before looking at him again. Shit. I forgot about it. I really should say no, but the prospect of being one of the first people to watch Giulio’s newest movie is too tempting to pass up.

  “Are you sure? I mean, would that be okay?”

  Alistair’s neutral mask slips for a moment when he frowns and flattens his lips. “Yes, Chiara. It would be perfectly fine.”

  With movie reel in hand, he walks to the back of the room where there are a few chairs in front of a white screen. I take a seat, feeling jittery while Alistair sets up the projector. Fifteen minutes later, he chooses the chair farthest from mine, leaving a gap between us. Not that it does any good. In this confined space, I can’t escape his alluring presence. But I will push through it. This is the ultimate test.

  Once the movie starts, it gets easier to ignore Alistair’s presence. I’m sucked into the story right away. That’s how good Giulio’s movies are. I don’t spare a single glance in his direction until we come to a scene that changes everything. It’s a love scene, which in Giulio’s movies translates into an extremely graphic and erotic sex scene. It’s impossible not to get turned on. Now all I can think about is the man in the room with me and how I want him to enact what we’re seeing on the screen. I rub my legs together because the constant throbbing in my core is almost too painful.

  Alistair groans, a sound I don’t think he intended to make. Like a fool, I turn to him and catch him adjusting his pants.

  Hell. He’s as aroused as I am.

  Sensing my stare, he looks at me. His eyes are pained, and his jaw is clenched tight. My breathing turns shallow, and I know if I stay here, I’ll end up doing something very foolish like throwing myself at him.

  “Chiara, I—” he starts, but I can’t bear to hear the end of his sentence.

  I jump out of my chair and say, “I have to go.”

  Like a scared little mouse, I run out of the room before Alistair can stop me.

  24

  Chiara

  Through some snooping—aka asking one of the ladies in the administration department—I learned Alistair isn’t teaching any other class at DuBose besides writer’s room and film history. He also doesn’t come to school on Thursdays. That made my day more bearable, but come Friday, I chicken out and skip his class. I couldn’t face him after that charged moment we shared in the school’s basement. I need more time to recover from that.

  I do show up for creative writing in second period though. We have to write a short scene, and to my dismay, I wrote a very smutty one. I didn’t realize what I was doing until Robbie looks over my shoulder and giggles.

  “I never knew you had such a filthy imagination, Chiara.”

  “What?” I look at him.

  He taps my laptop screen. “This scene is hot.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, and in a panic, I delete the whole thing.

  “Damn, why did you do that? It was really good.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. I can’t submit that. Mrs. Fallon will think I’m a perv.”

  Robbie glances at the front of the room, where our teacher is busy writing something on the whiteboard.

  “Nah, I think she’ll appreciate it. Maybe it will give her some ideas to use with her husband later tonight.” Robbie wiggles his eyebrows up and down.

  I hit his arm. “Shhh. You have such a dirty mind.”

  “Not as dirty as yours.”

  I cover my face with my hand. “You’re never going to stop teasing me about that, are you?”

  “Never. So, what, or better yet, who inspired that scene?”

  “Nobody,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “Right. I’ll pretend I believe you.”

  The class finally comes to an end, and mercifully, Mrs. Fallon doesn’t ask us to submit our scenes at the end of it. She says we can keep working on them during the weekend.

  Robbie laces his arm with mine and says, “Come on. I’m famished.”

  On the way to the cafeteria, I notice there are more students heading there than usual.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Oh, I think the students in the drama program are planning something. Harold heavily hinted yesterday that we should eat in the cafeteria today.”

  There’s a sense of excitement in the air, and I get caught up in it. Something is definitely going to happen. Instead of veering toward the food buffet, Robbie aims for a table, scoring a spot for us with the glee club students. Introductions are made quickly before he asks if anything has happened yet.

  “Nope. But it will soon,” a guy with a mop of dark curly hair says.

  “Robbie, I thought you were hun—”

  A commotion in the crowd cuts me off, and like everyone else at the table, I turn in the direction of the noise. The throng of people parts to make room for the dozen guys dressed up as knights. Half of them carry flags with different insignias, and the other half have a sword in one of their hands and a toy horse between their legs.

  “What the hell?” I say.

  “Behold, fair people of DuBose Kingdom,” says a tall blond guy as he walks to the middle of the circle that has quickly formed. “We’re the brave knights of the six glittering courts, and today we’ll duel in the name of the House Cup.”

  A loud noise erupts all around us as students begin shouting and banging their food trays against the tables. The blond guy waits until the noise level goes down to speak again. “But before we begin, each of us needs a blessing and a token from a fair maiden.”

  I roll my eyes when I hear the loud, high-pitched screams of some girls. Come on, people.

  “I guess since I’m already talking, I’ll start.”

  The guy makes a show of looking at the crowd surrounding him as he rubs his chin. When his eyes land on me, he pauses.

  Oh hell to the no.

  He strides in my direction until he drops in front of me like an idiot. “What’s your name, oh fair maiden?”

  Instead of answering him, I narrow my eyes and say, “You haven’t earned the right to know my name.”

  A collective gasp echoes in the vast room, followed by laughter.

  “Ouch, we got a fierce one here, folks. I sure know how to pick them,” he says.

  “Pick them? What are we, flowers ready for the plucking? I don’t think so, buddy.” I glare at him for real.

  Sensing I’m serious, he brings his body to the same level as mine and whispers in my ear, “I don’t mean anything by it. This is just for show.”

  I feel bad now. Maybe I was projecting my frustration with Alistair on this guy. This seems to be just harmless fun after all.

  “All right. Carry on. I won’t bite your head off.”

  Relief crosses his face, and he smiles. He returns to his position kneeling at my feet and grabs my hand. “If you allow me, fair maiden, I’ll win this tournament and earn the honor to know thy name.”

  “I’ll give you my permission, oh brave golden knight.”

  He raises an eyebrow and whispers, “Golden knight?”

  I shrug and his smile widens, revealing perfect straight teeth. He’s kind of cute, actually.

  “May I ask for a token to bring me luck?” he asks out loud.

  “Sure.” I give him the hairband I had around my wrist. “Here. Good luck.”

  He brings it to his lips, kissing it before putting it on his own wrist. The crowd cheers as he stands and returns to his place in line. The same theatrics follow with the other kn
ights until they all find their maidens and get their tokens.

  Then the silly tournament begins. They look like children, dueling with their fake swords and wooden horses. But the crowd is into it, cheering and screaming as if they were watching a real live duel.

  “Are those guys all in the drama program?” I ask Robbie.

  “Some, yeah, but not all of them.”

  The tournament comes to the final duel, and I’m not surprised that my knight is one of the last guys standing there. He looks in my direction and winks. To my surprise, I laugh because this situation just became too ridiculous for me to take it seriously. Besides, it’s okay to let myself have some fun.

  He charges his opponent with a loud roar, hitting him on his shoulder. The guy trips and ends up falling on his ass. The crowd cheers once, the noise much louder than before. Robbie jumps from his seat, dragging me with him.

  “He won! Your knight won.”

  “Okay, okay,” I say, not understanding his enthusiasm.

  My knight walks over to collect his prize.

  “My lady. May I now have your name, please?”

  “It’s Chiara.”

  He puts his hand over his chest. “The brightest of them all. I knew you were special, my lady.”

  Apparently we’re not putting on enough of a show because the crowd begins to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”

  Shit. I didn’t sign up for this.

  Robbie is the only one not chanting, and he seems a little annoyed about the situation.

  “We don’t need to kiss, you know?” the golden knight says, but his eyes are hopeful.

  In that precise moment, the image of Alistair pops into my head and how much I’m still hurting because of him. A reckless idea takes root, and before I can overthink it, I go for it. I stand up, stepping closer to my knight. I have to look up since he’s so much taller than me.

  “What the hell? We can’t disappoint them. Just one kiss.”

  His lips curl into a crooked grin. He grabs my face between his hands and brings his mouth to mine. It’s innocent, just a brush of lips, but the crowd goes wild.

  I thought kissing another guy would make me feel better, but it has the opposite effect. It just makes my chest tighter. There’s no extracting Alistair from my heart anytime soon.

  25

  Chiara

  I could have never foreseen that my chaste kiss with the golden knight—Phillip—would be such a big deal. Since I didn’t go out last weekend again, preferring to watch sappy movies on Netflix rather than partying with Robbie, I only get the full effect of my actions Monday morning while I walk to Alistair’s class. Whispers calling me “fair maiden” follow me, and people are staring a lot.

  When I enter the classroom, the few students there turn to me and start to clap.

  “Ugh, what the hell is going on?” I ask.

  The guy nearest to me answers, “You broke the curse.”

  “What curse?”

  “Peter is being dramatic. There’s no curse, just a very long stretch without any wins for our football team,” someone else replies.

  “Yup.” Peter bobs his head up and down. “But that changed last Saturday. Your kiss must have special powers, because our QB was on fire.”

  “Who?” I look from Peter to the other girl who spoke.

  “Phillip Harrison, our quarterback.”

  Understanding finally dawns on me. “Ah, and you think that silly kiss has something to do with it?”

  “Yes!” they both answer.

  Josh comes into the room, tapping my shoulder as he walks by. “Good job, Chiara. You saved the school’s honor.”

  I follow him, grumbling. “Not you too.”

  Chuckling, Josh takes his seat, and I do the same. “Do people really believe I’m somehow responsible for this miraculous win?”

  “Oh yeah. Most definitely.” He nods.

  “Ugh!”

  “Oh, and there’s more. Your magical kiss was featured front and center in yesterday’s online issue of the school’s paper. You’re famous now. People are probably planning your wedding to Phillip.”

  “Fucking great,” I mumble, wondering if Alistair has seen that picture too. If he did, does he think Phillip is the reason I said I’ve moved on?

  For fuck’s sake. Why am I distressed about that?

  “Don’t worry about it. The story will die out soon. I mean, unless you two are actually dating.”

  I roll my eyes and scoff. “I already told you. I’ve retired from dating.”

  “Come on, Chiara. Because of one bad guy? There’s more fish in the sea, you know?”

  I look at Josh. He’s staring straight ahead, so I can’t tell if he’s referring to himself. I hope not.

  I pull out my phone and send Robbie a quick text message. How come he didn’t say anything earlier when we had class together? Actually, no one made a fuss. Maybe this breaking the curse story didn’t start until later.

  ME: Thanks for the heads-up.

  Two minutes later, he replies.

  ROBBIE: Ah, shit. I totally forgot to warn you. My bad.

  “My bad”? What kind of apology is that?

  I’m about to send a sassy response back when Alistair walks in. He barely looks at the class, and his “Good morning” sounds more like a grumble than anything else.

  “I hope everybody got enough rest last weekend because things are about to get hard in this class.”

  “Harder than it already was?” Peter asks a little too loudly.

  Alistair glances at the poor guy, glaring. “You think the past three weeks have been hard? That was me going easy on you.”

  I’ve never seen this side of Alistair before. He sounds so angry. What happened to him last weekend? He can’t be mad because I kissed Phillip. No way. Even though it would be nice for my bruised ego if he was jealous.

  “Today, you’re going to work on a script for a pilot TV show, and I’m splitting the class in groups. The assignment is that a major network is looking for a new high drama series for their prime-time slot. I know just one hour isn’t enough to write a script. I’m not delusional. You have a week to complete it and prepare the pitch to present to me next week.”

  “That sounds kind of fun,” I say.

  “Sure, but a week to do all that?” Josh shakes his head. “Insanity.”

  Alistair begins to divide the class into groups. When he calls my name, he doesn’t look in my direction but keeps his gaze glued to the sheet of paper in his hand. I’m not surprised that I’m not in the same group as Josh, but I groan silently when I discover I’m in Peter’s group. I hope he doesn’t want to keep talking about how my kiss broke the team’s curse.

  He smiles when I take a seat next to his, then asks if I’m going to next week’s game.

  “I don’t like football.”

  “Shhh. Don’t say it out loud. You’ll bring the curse back.”

  I sense someone approach right before Alistair asks the group if we have any questions.

  “No question from me,” Peter replies, and the other group members say the same.

  “Miss Moretti?” Alistair turns to me.

  “Nope. All good for me too.”

  I feel his gaze on my face, so I’m forced to turn to him. His expression remains impartial, but his eyes seem to blaze with an unfathomed energy. It’s like he wants to enter my mind, read all my thoughts. Slowly but surely, he reels me in with his intense gaze, and all coherent thoughts escape my brain. Damn it.

  “Okay then.” He knocks on the back of my chair before moving along to check on another group.

  I don’t realize I’m staring at him until one of the girls in my group sighs.

  “Man, that’s a hot piece of ass, don’t you think? I’d totally go for him if I thought I had a chance in hell.”

  “He’s our teacher,” I retort.

  “So?” She raises an eyebrow.

  Jealousy rears its ugly head, but it’s not like I can show how mad I am.

&nbs
p; “I don’t think he’s all that,” I reply instead.

  “Well, I’m sure you don’t considering you’ve got the QB.”

  I almost tell her that I don’t have anyone, but it seems to me her statement made Alistair tense all of a sudden. So I don’t correct her erroneous assumption, even knowing it’s a pretty stupid move on my part.

  My phone vibrates in the next moment, indicating a new text message. I don’t recognize the number, but after reading the content, I figure out who it’s from.

  PHILLIP: So, I guess you’re my lucky charm.

  ME: How did you get my number?

  PHILLIP: Robbie. You’re not mad, are you?

  Of course, it had to be him. I am annoyed.

  ME: I’d have preferred if you’d asked me for it.

  PHILLIP: Shit. You’re right. I just wanted to ask if you’d like to come to my next game.

  I groan. I swear to God, I’m never making impulsive decisions again. Ever!

  ME: I don’t like football. Sorry.

  The three dots on my screen tell me Phillip is typing a reply, but I never get to see the text because my phone is yanked from my hands.

  “Hey!”

  “You’re here to work, Miss Moretti, not text your boyfriend. Now get to it.”

  My cheeks heat as embarrassment mixes with indignation. I can’t believe Alistair did that.

  “What about my phone?”

  “You’ll get it back once class is over.”

  Sure, it’s rude to text during class, but it’s not like he was talking. Taking my phone feels rather extreme. The startled look on my companions’ faces tells me they’re just as shocked as me. Needlessly to say, no one jokes around while working on the assignment. They don’t want to deal with Alistair’s bad mood.

  I’m too angry to concentrate on anything and end up being a deadweight.

  When the class is finally over, the anger is gone. I carelessly started this silly game, but it’s done nothing but leave me hollow inside. I collect my stuff as fast as I can, and when I approach his desk, he doesn’t look at me.

  “Can I have my phone back, please?”

  He slides the device across the desk, finally looking up. “Next time I catch you texting during my class, I’ll fail you in a heartbeat. Is that clear, Miss Moretti?”