I laugh without humor. “That’s fucking rich. It’s over, Nadine. I don’t love you. I haven’t loved you in a very long time. Let’s end this now and move on with our lives.”
She narrows her eyes, flattening her lips too. “You seem in an awful hurry to sign the papers now. What changed, Alistair? It’s another woman, isn’t it? You’ve got a girlfriend and you want to be free again.”
Nadine is not the only actor at this table. The difference is I was always better than her. My expression reveals nothing.
“Do you think I can only let you go if I have a replacement? Don’t flatter yourself, darling. I just want you out of my life for good. I can’t stand the sight of your face.”
The waiter comes to take our order, but I tell him we’re not staying.
“Is there something wrong?” he asks.
“No. I just lost my appetite. I’m leaving. I don’t know about her.”
“I’m not having dinner by myself!” she shrieks.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead already.
I push my chair back to stand, and Nadine follows suit. Ignoring her, I head out of the restaurant and give my ticket to the valet guy.
“Alistair, look at me.”
The idiot that I am, I do so. I don’t expect Nadine to grab my face between her hands and kiss me on the lips. I push her off as fast as I can, but not fast enough to avoid the paparazzi flashes.
“You set me up!” I wipe my lips, knowing for sure I have a red smear on them.
She doesn’t seem one bit fazed by my reaction. “You’re not getting rid of me as easily as you think, babe. Not when I’m about to sign a contract for a reality TV show. I need drama, and our rocky relationship will provide plenty of that.”
I want to shake her, scream at her, but I do none of those things. I won’t be played again.
The valet guy comes with my car, and I grab the keys so fast, I forget to tip the man. Two minutes into my drive, I receive a text from Chiara. It’s only a bunch of kiss-face emojis.
Fuck me, I didn’t even factor her into all this mess. How long until she sees those damn pictures online?
I call her, and it goes straight to voice mail. Goddamn it. Anger and frustration mix, making a vein throb on my forehead.
Without a choice, I drive to Chiara’s apartment. Once again, I’m not using my best judgment here. The parking lot in front of her building is full, so I circle around and park my truck a block away. As if an omen that things are about to turn to shit, heavy rain starts to fall in big fat drops. I grab the hoodie I always keep in my car and put it on. It still carries Chiara’s sweet scent from when I loaned it to her the other day. Pulling the hood over my head, I brave the weather. I get drenched within seconds.
Walking fast with my head down, I reach the front of her building in less than a minute. Of course, tonight I won’t be so lucky to catch someone leaving the building so I can enter quickly. I try the door just in case, finding it locked. I call Chiara again and get the same thing, voice mail.
My teeth start to chatter as I look for her name on the intercom system. I have to squint to read the small letters. Finally, I locate the damn button with her name next to it. I press the buzzer several times without an answer.
Shit. Chiara isn’t home.
Where the hell could she be?
“Can I help you?” a guy asks.
I turn, getting hit by a bright light on my face. I have to raise my arm to protect my eyes.
“Yeah, can you lower your goddamn flashlight?”
The light stays in place, but the voice gets harder. “Are you a resident at Brandywine Hall?”
Fuck me. I forgot this area was patrolled by a private security company paid in part by DuBose. There have been some break-ins lately, so they’ve been more vigilant about strangers in the area.
“No, I’m a teacher at DuBose High School. Just lower your light, please. You’re going to blind me.” I take a step in his direction.
“Don’t move.”
This is fucking ridiculous. I don’t have time for this bullshit. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I see some identification.”
I ignore the guy and keep walking. The last thing I expect is for him to grab the sleeve of my hoodie and yank. Caught by surprise, I lose my balance and fall backward, the middle of my spine hitting the edge of the concrete step. Sharp pain shoots up my back.
“Fuck!”
“I told you not to move, punk!” He jams his knee into my chest, still holding that ridiculous flashlight over my face.
I shove him off me with ease, and he lands on his knees with the grace of a giraffe on stilts. I manage to get back on my feet before he comes at me again, ramming his body against mine. He tries to knock me down, but I’ve been practicing martial arts for years; he doesn’t stand a chance.
The sound of a police siren in the distance distracts me, leaving me wide open to receive a punch to my jaw. My head snaps back with the impact, and blood fills my mouth.
The next several minutes happen in a blur. Cops are yelling, the security guy is yelling, and suddenly I’m shoved against the pavement with my head pressed against the cold ground while my hands are cuffed behind my back.
A sense of déjà vu hits me hard. Forrester was there to bail me out the first time I got arrested. Is he going to do the same this time?
36
Alistair
I’m lucky to get a cell to myself tonight. A stark difference from the first time I was arrested for reckless driving when I was younger. Back then, they stuck me in a cell with ten other guys, thugs who wanted to murder me on sight. If I hadn’t been recognized by a fan, one of the biggest guys in there, I would have had my ass kicked.
Resting my elbows on my knees, I keep my head down as I replay tonight’s events. If Nadine gets a whiff of this, she’ll have a field day. I can’t believe I let her get to me like that. I’m such a moron. The fact that I couldn’t talk with Chiara makes me even more frustrated.
I must have been locked up for about an hour when the sound of a metal door opening snaps me to attention. Enzo walks into the detention area, followed by Forrester.
Fuck. Why did he call him?
I level my lawyer with a glare as I clench my jaw.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t call your boss,” Enzo says.
“I was notified by the security company,” Forrester explains. “What in the world were you doing trying to break into student housing, Alistair?”
“I…. Nothing.”
Forrester narrows his eyes, knowing I’m lying. Shit, I should know better. Before he became the principal at DuBose, he was a renowned therapist—my therapist. The guy knows me better than my parents do.
“No one is pressing charges, and we’re brushing this off as a misunderstanding,” Forrester continues.
“Thank you.” I lower my gaze, shame making me unable to look my friend in the eye.
A police officer unlocks my cell and then leads me to a different part of the building where I can collect my personal belongings. Forrester stays behind, but Enzo tags along. It doesn’t take long for him to speak his mind.
“What kind of stupid bullshit was that?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fine. Don’t. But don’t come crying when Nadine wipes your bank account clean and Forrester fires your ass.”
I scoff. “I’m not in the mood for Italian dramatics, Enzo.”
“What were you doing in front of you-know-who’s building? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
Ignoring Enzo, I check that all my belongings are accounted for before signing the paperwork the clerk presented me.
“Nadine set me up. She had paparazzi waiting for us outside the restaurant. She kissed me in front of them.”
“That’s ridiculous. What is she trying to accomplish by doing that?”
“She’s trying to score a contract for a reality TV show, and she needs
drama.”
Enzo makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. “Let me guess. She won’t sign the divorce papers now because of that.”
“You got it. That’s why I was where I was. I needed to talk to Chiara, to explain to her that those images aren’t what they seem. But her phone was switched off.”
We walk to the front of the police station. Forrester is waiting for me there, so any criticism Enzo might still have about my behavior dies in his throat. My boss rises from his seat, his hard gaze transporting me back to when I was younger. Shit. It feels like I’m about to receive a tongue-lashing.
“Since all is well, I’m heading out. I’ll call you tomorrow, Alistair.” Enzo walks out of the precinct before I can stop him.
I was hoping to score a ride with him back to my truck.
Forrester must have read my mind, because he says, “Come on. I’ll give you a lift.”
Resigned that I won’t escape getting stuck with him in a moving vehicle, I follow him outside. The rain has mercifully stopped, but my clothes are still damp from before. I bring the lapels of my jacket closer together, but it does nothing against the chill seeping through my clothes.
Forrester turns on the heater as soon as the engine is on, and less than a minute later, I’m nice and toasty on the outside. On the inside, it’s a different story.
“I’m sorry about tonight.”
“I’d believe that if you were being honest with me.”
“Shit, Forrester. Nadine and the divorce are getting to me. That’s why I wanted a year off.”
He sighs loudly. He’s probably feeling guilty now. It’s not the complete truth, but it’s not a lie either.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to come back. I know. Listen, if you need to talk like old times, my door is always open.”
I chuckle. “You want to be my therapist again? You might need to fire me after our first session.”
Forrester laughs at my joke. If he only knew it’s not a laughing matter.
“Good point. I can refer you to someone else. I’d hate for you to feel like your life is unraveling again. I don’t want to see you derail.”
“That’s the last thing I want. You know that.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment. He’s wearing his therapist hat, even though this isn’t a session. Old habits are hard to break, I guess.
“Listen, I want you to take time off. Go visit your parents in the vineyard. If you leave me your lesson plan for the week, I can cover for you.”
I whip my head to face him. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious. You’re one of the best teachers I have. I won’t lose you on account of a mental breakdown.”
I open and shut my mouth. Here I am, hiding a truth that can devastate my friend’s institution, and he’s going out of his way to help me.
I feel like a fucking prick.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s only one thing you can say. It’s ‘Yes, boss, I’m taking a break.’”
Shaking my head, I look out the window, noticing we’re already back on Chiara’s street. A moment later, Forrester parks next to my truck. Before I can open the door, he turns to me.
“I mean it, Alistair. I don’t want to see your face next week. I expect your lesson plan by the end of the day tomorrow.”
“Okay, I hear ya. Anything else?”
“Yes, bring me a couple of bottles of wine from the vineyard, will you?”
I smirk. “Now the truth arises. No worries, Forrester. I’ll bring you a case.”
I hop into my truck but take my time turning the engine on. Instead, I call Chiara again. It’s past two in the morning, but I still get her voice mail.
When I finally put the truck in Drive, it takes a Herculean effort to drive away from her building. I’ll have to suck it up and wait until tomorrow.
37
Chiara
I blink my eyes open, and a sharp pain shoots up my forehead. There’s a weird taste in my mouth, a mixture of tequila and tortilla chips. It takes me a moment to get my bearings. I’m on a couch, but it’s not mine.
Loud snoring coming from the king-size bed to my right snaps my memories into place. I remember where I am now. I came to Robbie’s house after school. I was upset about the whole deal with Alistair, so instead of moping in my apartment alone, I agreed to come over for a The Big Bang Theory marathon.
Phillip, Valerie, and Harold were also here. I see two people on Robbie’s bed though.
Oh God. That must be Phillip.
I get up and tiptoe to Robbie’s side of the bed.
“Hey, Robbie, wake up.” I shake his shoulder, which only makes him turn on his side and hide his face under a pillow.
Phillip moans in his sleep and slings his arm over his face. He’s shirtless, but I hope he’s not naked under the covers.
“Fine. Be like that. It’s not like we have a quiz in half an hour.”
Phillip rolls over suddenly, falling off the bed. He sits up tense and wide-eyed.
“Shit! What time is it?”
“Quarter to seven.”
He jumps up, and I’m relieved to see he’s wearing boxer shorts at least. But when he turns, mortification fills me. Hello, morning wood. I look away as heat rushes to my cheeks.
“Dio Santo. Cover yourself, please.”
Robbie sits up, rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you two being so noisy?”
“I’m going to be late for practice.” Phillip dashes to the bathroom and closes the door.
I spot the tequila bottles on Robbie’s desk, plus the leftovers of our dinner, and get queasy.
“How much did we drink last night?”
“Judging by the pounding in my head, I’d say too much.” He reaches for his phone on the nightstand and frowns. “Valerie texted me. She said we need to check ET Online.”
“Why?”
Robbie lifts his gaze, meeting mine. “Something to do with Alistair.”
The floor seems to vanish beneath my feet. “Oh my God. What?”
“She didn’t say. And before you ask, she doesn’t know that you and Mr. Walsh are an item.”
Frantically, I begin to search for my purse. My phone is in it.
“Ah hell,” Robbie blurts.
“What? What is it?” I grab his phone, too nervous to care about manners.
Then I wish I hadn’t been so abrupt and let Robbie prepare me for the image on his screen.
Alistair and Nadine kissing.
“What the hell!” I say.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, sweetie. Not everything is as it seems in this town.”
“How is that viper shoving her tongue down Alistair’s throat not what it seems?” I shriek.
“If you look closely at his expression, he doesn’t seem into it. Maybe she jumped him.”
I return his phone, not wanting to look at the picture for another second. My eyes are already tearing up anyway.
“I can’t believe this,” I say.
A moment later, Robbie touches my lower back. “Don’t cry, Chiara.”
“I’m not crying,” I reply through a choke. “You must think I’m an idiot, huh?”
“Why would I think that?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. Maybe because a relationship between a teacher and a student never ends well.”
“I’m sure there’s an explanation. Check your phone. Maybe he called.”
“Help me find my purse.”
A minute later, I’m looking at the black screen of my phone. It died sometime last night. Robbie has a different phone than mine, so I can’t use his charger, which means I won’t know for sure if Alistair tried to contact me until I get back home.
For now, I have to deal with the heartache that won’t go away.
ALISTAIR
I’m in front of Chiara’s apartment first thing in the morning. Apparently, I haven’t learned my lesson. I stay in my truck though, waiting for her to appear. She has to
go to school. I didn’t try calling her again because by now, she must have seen the pictures of Nadine kissing me. It’s all over the internet, which surprises me, to be honest, as I’m no longer a hot commodity in Hollywood, and Nadine was never a star.
The ping of an incoming text makes me look down at my phone.
ENZO: You’d better not be stalking your girlfriend.
I groan and toss the phone aside. Fuck off, Enzo.
Movement ahead catches my attention. I recognize Phillip’s truck. Then the surprise comes. Chiara climbs out of the vehicle wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Fuck me. Did she spend the night with him?
I’m out of the truck before I can put my thoughts in order, blind jealousy coursing through my veins.
Phillip drives off before I finish crossing the street. It’s for the best. In my current mood, I could have very well committed another insane act.
Chiara freezes by the curb when she sees me coming over. There’s an initial shock on her part, right before her gaze turns murderous.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to you.”
She crosses her arms and glowers harder. “I’m not sure I’m interested in what you have to say.”
I glance at the front of the building, knowing it’s only a matter of time until a student from DuBose walks out and catches us having a heated argument.
“Can we please go somewhere so we can talk?”
“Fine.”
I maintain a safe distance from her as we walk over to my truck. It’s bad enough that we’re once again going somewhere together in my vehicle, but I can’t leave all our unresolved issues alone to fester and become worse.
Inside the car, the silence feels like a third passenger. It’s heavy, uncomfortable, almost tangible. I don’t break it, not while I’m parked in front of Chiara’s apartment in broad daylight. I drive off, putting the pedal to the metal.
“Where are you taking me? I have class in an hour,” she says.
“Nowhere specifically. I’ll bring you back in time.” I sigh, preparing myself. “Listen, about the picture you must have seen already. That was a setup.”
Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance Page 19