"Hey! You're that girl from last night!" he said, throwing his beer can down on the ground as he started walking toward me. "Hang on, I think we need to finish our…conversation!"
I started to run, ignoring the ache in my legs, real panic setting in. Panic that hadn't had time last night during my adrenaline rush, at least not as strong. Panic that was always there. I heard three sets of feet pounding the pavement after me.
I was running when a house I'd walked by a thousand times caught my eye. It was an old brick one, and it had caught my attention because there was a figure heading up the walkway with groceries. The first person I'd seen in a while, and I knew the three guys behind me were catching up. I didn't think I could outrun them.
"Slow down! We just wanna….talk," Andrew was saying.
"Come on, sweet cheeks—there's no reason to be afraid!" the second guy added while the third guy laughed. The person, hearing the commotion, turned around. I was too panicked to register that it was Mr. Bentley until I had already run up the walkway and collided into his arms, his groceries falling from his hands to land on the ground.
"Please," I said breathlessly, my side a painful stitch. Iain quickly assessed me, concern apparent on his face, and then glared toward the three figures quickly retreating the way they'd came.
"Harlow? What happened?" Mr. Bentley asked, brushing back a strand of my hair. My shaky legs gave out, and he caught me in his arms.
Moments later, I found myself carried into Iain Bentley's house and placed on the couch. I was trying my hardest to fight off a panic attack on my own, but there was no stopping it.
"Can you hand me my bag please," I managed between breaths. He quickly handed it to me and, shaken, I searched for my bottle of Clorazepate. I popped one, but knew it wouldn't help immediately.
"I'm going to make you tea," Iain said, standing up. I couldn't focus on anything but my hands and my breathing. He went outside for a moment, likely to retrieve his groceries from the walkway.
A few minutes later, he returned, glancing at me with concern as he walked toward the back of his house with his groceries. Five minutes later I heard the kettle coming to a boil, and the sound of water pouring and spoons tinkling against the mugs as he stirred.
I was finally steadier with my breathing by the time he came back. Iain's face was full of concern and anger. I shrunk back into the couch. Maybe he was angry that I had involved him, that I was there. He saw my expression and his face softened.
"I'm not angry at you," he said, sitting on the coffee table in front of me and holding out a mug of steaming tea that I gratefully took in my hands. "I'm angry that I didn't get a good look at those guys. They were following you, right?"
I willed myself to become the sensual and confident Harlow, the face that I tried to wear whenever anyone else was around. It was difficult, what with my face chalk white and clammy and my heart pounding extremely fast in my chest. I held my head higher and steeled my jaw, trying to appear unaffected and strong.
"Yeah. A party I went to last night. I walked in on the one guy…taking advantage of a girl. He raped her," I replied, leaving out that the girl had been Jenna.
"Jesus." Iain ran a hand through his hair, his eyes hard with anger. "If I had known, I would have…" he trailed off, glaring out toward the street.
"Would have what? You would have chased them down?" I scoffed. Iain gave me a look.
"I should call the police so you can report this to them," he said after a moment of looking at me.
I chewed on my lip and looked out the window, thinking about the promise I'd made and about how the culprit was the Police Chief's son. "I'd rather not. They can't really do anything."
Mr. Bentley sighed. "Harlow, that girl at the party…it would help her get justice, especially because you witnessed what happened and that guy attacked you that night and followed you tonight."
"Won't I get in trouble for being here?" I asked, curious. I was suddenly very aware that I was completely alone with my English teacher, and that he was inches away from me. I heard his breath intake, but I didn't dare look at him. Although I'd been fighting to get my confidence back, it just wasn't coming. I felt vulnerable and worse, insecure. Why couldn't I have run into some old gentlemen who would make sure those guys had gone before sending me on my way? Why did it have to be Mr. Bentley's house that I randomly ran to? I hadn't even known he lived nearby. I thought about all this as I stared into the mug of tea.
"Why would you be in trouble?"
"Because, you're my English teacher and I ended up on your doorstep. It's going to look…suspicious. Even if it was totally random. I swear I had no idea this was your house. Had I known, I would have kept running." I couldn't help but think about how openly I had hit on him. What if he thought I was stalking him?
"That would have been stupid." It was Iain's turn to scoff at me. He gently reached over with one hand and tipped my chin up so I was looking at him. "Had you kept running, they would have caught up to you, and you could have been seriously hurt." He said this softly, his voice filled with…something. I frowned, dropping my gaze. The look in his eyes and the feel of his hand on my chin was making my heart rate increase again. Normally, that kind of contact would make me uncomfortable—very uncomfortable. But with him, I welcomed it. I enjoyed it. He dropped his hand, sighing again.
I took a sip of the tea I was holding, just to give myself something to do. My hands shook, and I couldn't tell if it was from the near-miss or from him. I could still feel his eyes on me.
"I promised the girl," I said, shrugging. "I can't give away anything without involving her…and she doesn't want to report it. As much as I don't agree with her, it is her decision."
Iain quietly observed me for another minute, then sighed. The silence we fell into was charged—by me, anyway. I didn't dare look at him again.
"Okay, well. Let me drive you home then," Iain said suddenly, standing up directly in front of me. He held out his hand and I took it. He gently pulled me up, and I was closer to him than I'd ever been before. He smelled intoxicating, the combination of books and the woods. He still had a hold of my hand. He was about a head taller than me, so that when I tipped my head up to look at his face, he was still peering down.
His smoldering blue eyes were full of longing. He wanted me. I leaned into him, almost without meaning to. He inhaled sharply and backed away, releasing my hand.
"Where do you live?" he asked, looking away from me and clenching his jaw.
"Prince Edward Street," I whispered, suddenly overcome with embarrassment. Maybe I'd read him wrong. What were you thinking, Harlow? I scolded myself. My cheeks felt hot, and I stared down at my feet.
He grabbed his keys from a ledge near the door and slipped into his coat. I picked up my bag and followed him out the door.
On Monday, the party was all anybody could talk about. How awesome it had been, how drunk so-and-so had gotten—the usual.
English class was a challenge. I looked for Jenna beforehand, but it was obvious that she wasn't coming by the comfortable way Callie and Tara were gossiping about her.
"I can't believe she'd get that drunk," Callie was saying, tossing her hair over her shoulder and rolling her eyes judgmentally.
"I know, I also can't believe she'd hook up with Andrew," Tara was saying, her voice full of disgust. "She knew you guys were going to get back together! What a slut!"
I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to slap both of them so hard that their heads spun.
In addition to them, Iain was also a challenge. I felt his eyes on me, but every time I looked up, he'd pointedly be looking in another direction.
"This week's essay is going to be about struggles. Write about a time when you struggled and overcame it," he told us at the end of class. "It's due next class. Remember, proper paragraph structure, grammar and spelling are crucial," he added as the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
Great, I thought, stuffing my notebook into my bag. I could write an
entire book on struggles, but the last thing I wanted was for Iain to read any of mine. I was still feeling the sting of rejection from our not-so-near kiss. I didn't want him to think I was some obsessed student.
"Hey, Harlow…did you have fun Saturday?" Riley asked, looking at me with an almost wounded expression on his face. "You left early."
"Oh yeah, it was great," I said dryly. "Gotta go. Late." I took off without saying another thing to him, but I did spare a peek at Mr. Bentley. He was watching me with a guarded, vulnerable look on his face. Maybe he thought I was going to tell on him. For what, I wasn't clear. It wasn't like anything had actually happened.
* * *
The rest of the week passed by in an uneventful manner. By Friday, Jenna had finally returned to school, but she was not her usual bubbly ditzy self; she looked pale and sullen. I saw her head into the bathroom alone during morning break, so I followed her.
"Hey, are you okay?" I asked, seeing her leaning over one of the bathroom sinks.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
"Look." I took a step toward her. "Let me know if you need anything, if you need to talk…or anything."
She looked up at me with dull eyes. "Thanks. For everything," she said, her voice void of emotion. "I really appreciate it."
I nodded, resisting the urge to hug her. The last thing I wanted after the incident with my ex and his friends was to be touched by anybody. I sighed, fishing in my bag for a piece of paper and a pen. I scribbled my cell phone number on it and handed it to her.
"Seriously, if you need to talk or anything, don't hesitate," I told her as she took the paper from me and stared blankly at it. She nodded, and figuring I had nothing more to say, I left.
* * *
I had a low-key weekend, picking up a couple extra shifts at the diner, and at the end of the Saturday night shift that I had picked up. I decided to do something impulsive and probably stupid.
"Catch you later," I told Ryan as we parted ways. I looked behind me, watching his retreating figure for a couple minutes.
I started walking. My heart was pounding, I didn't know what I'd hoped to accomplish, but the questions were driving me crazy. I needed answers.
In no time at all, I was walking up the steps to the red brick house and tapping firmly on the door.
The door opened, and Iain Bentley filled the doorway, staring at me. He didn't look the least bit surprised or put out to see me. The chilly October wind was tossing his hair pleasantly. It had grown since the first day of school; he still had a five o'clock shadow too.
"What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" he demanded, sticking his head outside to look around for anyone pursuing me. I didn't respond. My heart was pounding in my ears. I pushed him back inside and followed him in, closing the door behind me.
"I'm getting a vibe from you," I said, my heart racing.
He looked at me, startled. "A vibe?" he almost stuttered, drinking me in hungrily. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He ended up staring at the wall beside me. "I don't—"
"It's alright. I'm not an idiot." I rolled my eyes, feeling very much like an idiot and desperately hoping that my intuition was right. "I know you want me." My voice was steady, although I felt anything but.
"I—" his mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find something appropriate to say. His eyes shot back to mine and he held my gaze. I could feel the heat in his eyes. "I feel like I owe you an explanation," he finally said, his rugged voice low and intense as he continued to look at me. He had taken three big steps away from me, but I could feel the heat radiating off him, warming me on the crisp autumn night.
"For what?" I challenged. "Almost kissing me?" Even if I wasn't sure that had been his intent, even if I'd sort of initiated it.
"For wanting to," Iain amended, seriously. "For…still wanting to. You were vulnerable, and you came to me for help, and I nearly took advantage of that. I'm not that kind of person."
"No, you didn't." It felt odd that we were finally having this conversation, but it had to happen. I took a step toward him. I was trembling. "Trust me, I've been taken advantage of before, and that wasn't even close. I wanted you to—"
"Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't." Iain frowned. He shook his head again, seeming to clear his thoughts. "I shouldn't feel this way about you. About a student. It's wrong." He seemed to be talking to himself.
"Feel what?" I whispered.
"Attraction, longing, desire, vulnerability…" Iain trailed off, looking torn. He frowned as if he was angry at himself for telling me. I took another step toward him and he watched me.
"I feel that way too," I told him. "For the first time in a long time, I feel…alive. Awake."
It was another one of those "time stood still" moments. I walked toward him and he gently grabbed my jacket, pulling me close to him yet holding me at a distance. He was a good head taller than me, so I had to look up at him. He slowly lowered his face to mine. He didn't kiss me. He just put his forehead against mine and inhaled deeply. I felt his breath cascade across my nose and lips. It smelt minty and fresh, and it warmed me from the inside out. I felt myself thawing out, not realizing how frozen I'd been before.
I looked up at him, filled with a need I couldn't fully comprehend. It took seconds before I felt his lips against mine, softly, gently, and yet setting me on fire. I kissed back, just as gentle and vulnerable as he kissed me. He moaned, then kissed me softly again and pulled away, returning his forehead to mine.
"Harlow…" his whisper was almost a plea. "I should take you home. This is wrong." Iain massaged his temple with his left hand; his right hand was still grasping my jacket.
"How is it wrong if it feels right?" I asked, standing as still as I could. He smiled, almost pained. "You're what, maybe seven years older than me? That's not so bad."
He laughed softly. "More like ten" he corrected, sighing. He frowned as if that number was truly overwhelming. His hand released my jacket.
"Age is but a number," I said, bringing my face closer to his. He closed his eyes, inhaling me.
"I'm your teacher. You're my student," he said, reminding us both. He ran his hands up my arm. That detail seemed so insignificant.
"I think we've already crossed that boundary," I whispered. His hands gently squeezed my arms through my thick jacket.
"I won't lie. I've been attracted to you from when I first saw you," he confessed again. "But…this can't happen. I'll lose my job if anybody finds out. Or worse."
"What if nobody finds out?" I whispered, promise behind my words. I didn't want him to lose his job, but I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't resist this urge. And I didn't want to. It had been easy to do when I thought he hadn't wanted me—when I thought I'd misread him—but now that I knew differently, resisting that would be even harder.
"You're seventeen." He sighed, releasing his grasp on my arms.
"I'll be eighteen in January," I answered, raising an eyebrow. I didn't wait for him to reply. I ran my right hand against his jaw and behind his neck then I pulled him toward me, joining my other hand on the back of his neck. He came willingly, and his lips crashed against mine with fevered intensity. I had never been kissed like that before; he set me on fire as he trailed kisses along my neck and ears. He was breathing almost as heavily as I was.
After what seemed like ages, he slowly pulled away. "But you're still my student." I could hear his resolve weakening.
"And I won't tell," I replied. "You'll be Mr. Bentley at school, and in public, and Iain here." I didn’t know why I was trying to convince him. It was a bad idea; I knew that. He could get into trouble, and lots of it. But I wasn't planning on telling anyone and I didn't want to go back to feeling that emptiness I'd felt before. I was addicted to…whatever this feeling was.
I could literally see the battle between desire and reason that he was having, so I took a step back.
"Let me know what you decide," I said, turning around and heading
for the door. His hand grabbed mine, and I looked back at him. His brows were furrowed with frustration and confusion. He looked torn. He still held my hand.
"I can't seem to let you walk away, so I guess it's decided." Iain exhaled, running his free hand through his hair. "I can't get you out of my head, and I want to be with you. And not just…like that," he added, seeing my expression.
"Then how?"
"You know, be with you. Be yours." It was amusing watching my English teacher struggling to find words, but it was more amusing because it was harder for me to look at him as my teacher. It had always been hard, but now it was even more challenging.
He didn't really give me an opportunity to reply; he pulled me toward him for another earth-shattering kiss.
"Oh," I mumbled, almost dazed. He grinned at me and I laughed.
Suddenly, the mood got heavy. He gently helped me out of my coat and tossed it on the ground. My heart was pounding in my ears. I was no virgin—far from it—but I felt just as nervous as one. I kicked off my boots and he picked me up and carried me to the couch. The same couch I'd sat on a few short weeks ago, having a panic attack. We fell onto it, him onto me and me onto the couch, never breaking the kiss. My hands roamed his body through his clothes, and I was pleased to see that my prediction of his body wasn't that far off. He was in shape, each muscle defined and hard, and he was packing. I could feel him pressing into my pelvis through both our jeans. I moaned into his mouth, and he gently nibbled my bottom lip in response.
"I wanted to wait," he said heatedly. "But if you keep kissing me like that, I won't be able to."
"Me?" I laughed, trying to duck away from his lips. "You're the one kissing like that."
"Fair enough," he amended. "But you're irresistible."
I laughed. He was still poised over top of me, his blue eyes full with longing and amusement, a delectable half-smile playing on his lips. I drew in my lower lip and bit it gently, my stomach tingling with desire.
Collide Series Box Set Page 5