by Q. B. Tyler
“But…” I don’t even try to stop the tears from flowing down my face. “But I love you.” My words cause a knee-jerk reaction. He presses off the door instantly and frames my face with his hands. He doesn’t say anything, he just searches my face with those blue eyes. Reading me. Seeing me. “Don’t…I mean, do you feel the same?” I’m not sure what prompted me to ask, but I have to know.
He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against mine. “If I tell you I feel the same, that makes this so much harder.” His words aren’t I love you, but I hear the sentiment, and a part of me wishes he would have just said he didn’t love me. To be honest, I think that would hurt less.
I choke back a sob before pulling away. “I’m supposed to stay away from you for four years? And then what? We be together? Let’s say I could hold out ‘till then, would you even wait for me? I can’t expect you to not date other women between now and then. You’re gorgeous. Women throw themselves at you.”
“Tu sei l’unica per me.” You’re the only one for me.
“Cut the shit, Aidan. That’s not what I asked.” I stomp my foot, not letting him use Italian to get out of this.
He looks at me, surprised by my outburst. “I belong to you, Skyler.”
“Then don’t give me up!”
“What other choice do we have? I can’t do this for four years. We’ll get caught. We were seconds from getting caught earlier. Could you imagine if he knocked while I was nailing you against the door? With the scent of our sex in the air and my dick hanging out of my pants. I’m reckless when it comes to you, Skyler. I can’t think, and it’s going to ruin everything. My career, your future.”
I swallow and rub my hand across my tattoo. La vita va avanti.
Life goes on.
Life goes on.
Life goes on.
“I’m so stupid,” I whisper, the tears falling down my face. “I always do this. Get involved too quickly and intensely. I throw myself into things without thinking of the repercussions and then I get hurt because I do things with my whole heart.” My lip trembles and I don’t know if I’m angrier at myself for getting into this mess or Aidan for not stopping things before they got this far.
“Baby, you’re not stupid.” He wraps his arms around me and, despite the fact that I know this is the end, I let him hold me while I begin to mourn Aidan and Skyler. A love that burned fast and bright before exploding into stars that faded into darkness.
A shooting star.
“I don’t want this to end.” I make one final plea, hoping that I can convince him that we are worth the risk. “Please.”
“Il mio cuore batte solo per te.” My heart only beats for you, he whispers into my hair. His voice is quiet, but my sobs have slowed and I hear him clear as day.
“Tell me you love me.” I look up at him and the face he gives me breaks my heart.
“If I say that, I’ll never let you go.”
“But you do…love me.”
He swallows and lets out a breath breaking the connection between us. “I should go.”
“Aidan.” I take a step towards him as he takes a step back.
“I’m trying to do the right thing. Let me.”
“By breaking my heart? How is that the right thing?”
“One day you’ll thank me, I promise, Skyler.”
“No! Don’t you dare make this about teaching me some lesson I’ll understand down the road. Like I’m too naive to understand now. Love knows no age, Aidan. I love you and I know you love me too. We can get through this…together. We will make it work!” I hate myself for sounding so pitiful. My voice so desperate and pleading as I try my best to keep my heart from breaking. Maybe I really am too young.
“I’m sorry, Skyler, I just…can’t.” I hear his words but his body language doesn’t match. His posture is tense and rigid, his breathing labored, and his eyes give him away. Piercing blue eyes that used to heat me with a glance are dull, lifeless and empty. The hurt behind them is so evident. Tortured orbs that crush me because the pain in them is a direct reflection of mine.
He stands at the door, his hand resting on the door handle as he stares at me. He starts to speak before he shakes his head, and then he’s gone making me wish I’d never come to CGU.
That I’d never joined that stupid dating app.
That I hadn’t chosen criminal justice because that’s what my dad wanted.
That I hadn’t put my heart out there again.
My heart thumps in my chest in protest.
I don’t regret one second of my time with Aidan.
But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
The drive home to my apartment is a blur; my mind barely focuses on the road as buildings and trees pass me. Traffic in DC at this hour has become the bane of my existence and I’m shocked I don’t rear end anyone with my mind completely focused on Skyler, remembering that look in her eyes when I left her in that classroom.
Dick move. You should have at least walked her to her car.
But I couldn’t.
I knew if I stayed in that room a second longer, if I stared into her warm brown eyes for another beat I’d confess every thought I’d had about her over the past month. But most importantly the three words that had been roaring in my head for the past week. The words were almost suffocating, they tried to claw their way out of my chest making it difficult to breathe in the confines of that classroom.
I love you.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I slam the door to my apartment behind me so hard that the picture on my wall rattles under the force. I stare at the abstract painting my sister said I “had to have” because I’m over thirty and my mural of vinyl records is “so late twenties.” I’m not even sure what I’m looking at, but all I see is Skyler. The browns in the painting are almost the exact color of her eyes and I know they would be all I see in my dreams later.
I march to the refrigerator and pull out a beer, downing it in one gulp before realizing that I will definitely need something stronger to get through the night.
I’m sorry, Skyler. Forgive me, please.
A part of me wonders if I’m a coward for not telling her how I feel. For letting Hendricks get in my head. But then I remember the look in his eyes.
He was serious.
“Sit down, Doctor Reed,” he orders as he closes the door to his office. The air is thick and tense and I try my best to keep my cool, but I’m ready to hand this cantankerous old man his ass if he’s ready to spout accusations again.
I almost tell him I would prefer standing but I suppose the less combative I am the better. “What’s this meeting about?”
“Well, it was about whether you could help out with a panel this weekend for homecoming. Now, it’s about something else entirely.” He sits down across from me, a polished, rich mahogany desk between us, and a mountain of papers that looked in desperate need of organization. “What is going on with you and Preston Mitchell’s daughter?”
I hate the way he addresses her. Like she has no identity outside of being her father’s daughter—who I assume to be a large benefactor and prominent alumni. Skyler is so much more than that. She is bright and passionate and has her whole life ahead of her. Her parents don’t control her narrative. She doesn’t have to live in the shadow of her father.
“I’m not sure what you mean. Skyler Mitchell is a student. Nothing more.”
He leans back in his chair and stares at me, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Aidan,” he says. “You know I’ve been doing this a long time. Going on almost thirty years. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”
“I’m not doing anything. She’s a student and frankly, these accusations are getting old. And a little out of line. Take me to HR if you’re so concerned.” I go to stand when he stops me.
“Skyler Mitchell is off limits, Doctor Reed. You need to stay away from her.”
“I already said—” I start when he interrupts me.
“I know what you said. But I’ve see
I know I don’t have but a second to respond, but it’s enough time to hate myself for denying my feelings for Skyler or the fact that what I do with my woman doesn’t concern anyone on this god damn campus. She doesn’t belong to CGU or her father or this department.
She belongs to me.
“No, Doctor Hendricks, and frankly, you’re out of line. You’ve seen me twice with a student ON campus, and suddenly I’m sleeping with her. I’m not going to stand for this kind of harassment just because my students actually enjoy my class.” I shoot him a look implying that students don’t quite feel the same about his class.
“A simple no would have sufficed. No need to get defensive and…offensive.” He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“Is that all? I have things to do that don’t involve being interrogated for building relationships with my students.”
“I’ll email you about the panel,” he says as he turns to his computer.
“I never agreed to—” I start.
He doesn’t look up from his computer before he interrupts me. “I’ll email you about the panel.”
I turn to leave when I hear his voice again, “Doctor Reed.”
I turn around slowly. “Yes, Doctor Hendricks?”
He sighs and rubs a hand over his jaw. “Maybe you haven’t done anything yet, so in case you were thinking that all you have to do is get through this semester…” he trails off. “Teachers are prohibited from being in a relationship with any student at any time during their tenure. That means sophomores, juniors, and seniors are off limits as well. It’s not just your students.” He turns back to his computer, thankfully, because the look on my face can’t be controlled.
What? What kind of bullshit rule is that? I always thought that as long as the person in question wasn’t your actual student it might be frowned upon but wasn’t prohibited.
I realize I haven’t moved. I’m frozen in place, and he looks up at me with a knowing look. “Things get messy and the school just prefers a clean line. Black. White. No gray.”
“But that’s not how life works…the world is full of gray.” I hadn’t expected to argue but it tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“It’s how life works at CGU, Doctor Reed.”
I stare at one of the many pictures I have of her on my phone. She’s lying on her side in my bed, wearing my t-shirt. Her eyes are closed and she has a sleepy smile on her face. I snapped the photo and a moment later she was in my arms attacking my face with her lips. I’m just about to toss my phone to the side to avoid staring at her beautiful face a second longer when it comes to life in my hands. Even as I see the name flash across the screen I pray it reads something different. Had it been anyone else, I would have ignored it. With the exception of a short, pretty Italian girl that has taken up residence in my heart, this is the only person whose phone call I would take.
“Hey, Ma.” I try my best to sound like I’m not as depressed as I feel.
“My favorite son!” I can hear the smile in her voice and I know without even seeing her that she’s standing in the kitchen twirling the cord of the phone around her hand because “I have a house phone, why do I need to use my cellphone in the house? And also texting is for when you don’t want to hear someone’s voice. I always want to hear my babies’ voices.”
“I’m your only son,” I laugh. “But I know I’m also your favorite child.” I’m the oldest of three, with two younger sisters that drove my parents, and more importantly my mother, completely nuts. I, on the other hand, am the golden child that never gave them any issues.
“Oh, don’t say that. You know that upsets the girls.”
“Only because they know it’s true. What’s up, Ma?”
“I was just calling to see how you like D.C.? Is everyone nice? Is the traffic as bad as they say? Have you gone to the monuments? Have you seen Obama? I saw on the Twitter that he likes this particular ice cream shop and this restaurant on 14th Street.”
I laugh thinking about my mother’s fascination with the forty-fourth president. “No, unfortunately, I haven’t seen him. I have my eyes open though.”
“Picture and autograph, Aiden. You promised.”
“I know. I know.” I lean my head back against the chair and let out a sigh that I instantly regret remembering who I’m on the phone with.
The silence is deafening. Here it comes. “Talk to me, honey. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Try again. I know when something’s bothering you. And I know when it’s anything but fatigue. I saw you through four years of high school sports.” I’m silent and she speaks again. “Is it a girl?”
I’m instantly irritated that she knows me so well, but I have a sneaking suspicion that Chace probably told James who told my sister who told my mother that I had met someone. Or maybe it was mother’s intuition.
“Mom…” I trail off. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Too bad. Speak. That stupid Corinne better not have contacted you.”
“No, Ma. I just…”
“Do you love her?” The word is on the tip of my tongue but I can’t make myself say it.
“I haven’t told her.”
“But you do.” I’m silent and she huffs. “Aidan Michael Reed, I don’t care how old you are or how many degrees you have, or the fancy suffix in front of your name. I will still ground the hell out of you for lying to me.”
“Oh really?” I chuckle as I grab another beer and take a large gulp.
“Does she love you?”
“Yes.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“What do you think the problem is?” My mother was smart and could read situations instantly.
“I don’t know. Intimacy issues?” The beer flies from my mouth and spews all over my coffee table.
“Ma!” I manage to yell between coughs.
“What? I don’t know, Aidan. Tell me.”
“She’s a student,” I sigh.
“Whose student?” she asks, but I can hear the tone in her voice. I think I know what you’re trying to say, but I’ll give you a chance to correct me for my assumption. Correct me, Aidan Michael.
“My student.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Aidan. Is she even legal?”
“Yes, Mother!”
“Aren’t you teaching first year students?”
“She’s nineteen,” I grit out.
“And you’re how old? You know what, don’t answer that, I don’t need the reminder of how old I am.” I roll my eyes as I think about celebrating my mother’s forty-fifth birthday for the umpteenth time. She and I are going to be the same age here soon. “Sweetheart, I would never judge you. But isn’t that usually…frowned upon?”
“Now you understand the reason for my sigh, don’t you?”
“Watch your tone, Aidan.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, preparing myself to say the words aloud. “I love her.”
“What’s the problem then?”
“The whole her being my student thing?”
“Well, can’t you just hide it until she’s no longer your student?”
“No, Mother, I hadn’t thought of that.” My voice is laced with sarcasm. “Teachers are prohibited from relationships with any students at all. So, I can’t be with her until she graduates four years from now. And the dean of our college is already onto us. I can’t hide our relationship for four years, Ma. I wear my feelings for her all over my face.”
“Oh, honey.”
“She said she’d quit…but I can’t let her do that. She’d regret it and then she would eventually resent me.”
“More than she’d regret not being with someone she loves?”
“She’s young. And she thought she was in love once before. Who knows if she really loves me.”
“Don’t use her age as a reason to push her away. I’ve been in love with your father since I was seventeen.”
My heart constricts hearing her words. I know that’s part of the reason why I may have unrealistic expectations about love. My parents have been in love since they were teenagers and even now, thirty-five years later, they are still wild about each other.
“You’re the exception, not the rule.”
“You are exceptional, Aidan.”
I smile, hearing her words. Maryanne Reed always knew just what to say when I felt like shit. Skyler would love her. “Thanks, Ma.”
“Now tell me about her, Son.”
I should have stopped after the third whiskey.
Definitely after the fourth.
I curse myself for the fifth when I’m in front of Skyler’s door pounding on it at two in the morning. “Baby, open the door, please.” I’m leaning against the door, knocking every few seconds when it opens and I almost fall through. I manage to catch my balance and she closes the door behind me.
“What are you doing here?” she asks and I take a second to look at her. She’s wearing CGU sweatpants and one of my Harvard faculty t-shirts that I had from my time there. Her face is pale and her eyes are red, like she’s been bawling for the past few hours. Her hair is up in a ponytail with several strands falling from the holder, and I notice her lip trembling slightly.
“I needed you to know something.” I hiccup and she sighs, letting her eyes close.
“You’re drunk.”
“No.” I hiccup again. Fuck. Get it together, Aidan. “Don’t make me leave.”
I can tell she’s at war with herself about whether she should do just that when she walks by me and into her kitchen. I follow closely behind her and almost bump into her when she hands me a bottle of water. “Why are you here?”
“Because I love you. And…I hate that you hate me. That I fucked everything up.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up. And I certainly don’t hate you.” She swallows. “But let’s circle back to the first thing…you love me?”
“Very much.”
Tears swim in her eyes and threaten to move down her cheeks, but she brushes them away. “But it doesn’t change anything, does it?”
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