Collide

by J. C. Hannigan

  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 still grasping my jacket.

  "How is it wrong, if it feels right?" I asked him, 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 10," 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 17," he sighed, releasing his grasp on my arms.

  "I'll be 18 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, and 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 don'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 going 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 on to 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 cockily 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 as nervous as one. When his coat and shoes were off and I'd kicked off my boots, he picked me up and carried me to the couch. The same couch I'd sat on a few short weeks back, 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 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.

  * * * *

  Iain Bentley was amazing. He was gentle and he was passionate. He was impressive on all levels, and extremely skilled. I hadn't been with many people willingly, only Rhys, and he had been completely all about him. With Iain, I'd never been more pleasured in my life, and likely never would know pleasure of that intensity after him.

  Afterwards, he wrapped us both up in a warm afghan from the back of his couch, and we laid there, tangled up in each other's arms, breathing peacefully. I rested my head on his chest while he rubbed my lower back and played with my hair.

  "I should go soon…" I trailed off, figuring it was nearing midnight.

  "Mmhmm," Iain yawned, pulling me tight. "You could stay, if you wanted to."

  "I sort of have a curfew." I hated to remind him of my age now, especially considering what we'd just done, but it was true. He laughed, showing no traces of regret.

  "I didn't take you for the type to obey curfew," he joked. I feigned offense.

  "What kind of type do you take me for?"

  "The independent, strong willed, assertive kind that doesn't follow any rules but her own," Iain replied, suppressing a yawn.

  "That's accurate, and although I hate obeying curfew, I also have my own rules for hook ups. One of them is no sleepovers," I informed him, making it up as I went along.

  "You think this was just a hook-up?" Iain actually did look offended. "Weren't you listening to a word I said prior?"

  "Well, I've learned from a very early age that guys will say anything to get in your pants…so, I did hear you, I just didn't believe you." I answered honestly.

  Iain looked thoughtful as he pondered my words. "Okay, fair enough. Well, I meant it. This is more than a hook-up to me. I'm saying it now and I've already been in your pants," Iain added, smiling. "What about you? What are you looking for?" he looked at me, almost vulnerable.

  "I don't know," I answered. "I don't want it to be just a hook-up, but I told you…I'm not expecting anything."

  "Well, let's just take this slow…" Iain trailed off, seeing my expression. "Slower, I mean. But know that I believe in monogamy. Even if we can't be open about our…relationship with anyone else."

  "Good to know," I smiled. "And don't worry…your secret is safe with me."

  "Our secret," Iain whispered, pressing his lips against mine for another kiss.

  * * * *

  That Monday morning, I was a little late for class after accidentally sleeping in. The weekend had caught up with me. I hadn't gotten home until nearly 3 a.m. on Sunday morning, then I worked from 8 until 2 and crashed hard.

  "Nice of you to join us, Miss Jones," Iain said sternly when I finally walked into the classroom, nearly an hour late.

  "Sorry teach. Busy weekend," I replied, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I walked past. I caught a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips, but I didn't dare look directly at him. I went to my seat and sat down, ignoring Riley's obvious chest stare.

  "What did you do this weekend?" Riley whispered as Iain continued the lesson, trying to be oblivious to me. I knew he was watching out of the corner of his eye, by the slight set of his jaw.

  "Worked, hung out. The usual," I replied, not really wanting to
encourage conversation with Riley. I wanted to be left alone to discreetly stare at Iain's body and bask in the sweet memories of what it looked like unwrapped from all those layers and what it was capable of doing to me. But instead, knowing that Riley was staring at me, I opened up my notebook and started doodling.

  In the last ten minutes before class ended, Mr. Bentley gave the writing topic. He sat on the edge of his desk and observed us all.

  "This week's topic is chance. Write about what chance means, or about what happened when you gave something—or someone—a chance," he said. "And pick out a novel from the reading list to read and do a book report on. The book report will be due two Mondays from now."

  The class groaned in unison, except for me. I loved reading, and I enjoyed doing Iain's writing topics. I enjoyed pouring bits of my soul into them, especially when he chose topics that were extremely relevant to what I was going through. Not that I openly wrote about him, he always knew by the metaphors, just as I knew by the topic.

  The bell rang, signaling the end of class. I packed up my things and stood up. Riley reached out and grabbed my arm, smiling cockily at me.

  "You up for dinner tonight?"

  "No," I replied, pulling my arm from his grasp. "I'll pass…indefinitely." I ignored the disappointed look on Riley's face and stole a look at Iain, who was discreetly watching from his desk. He suppressed a smile as I walked by with a smile of my own on my lips.

  As I joined the overwhelming amount of students in the hallway, I caught sight of Jenna, Callie, and Tara. She'd gone back to hanging out with them, although their friendship seemed to have changed. Jenna was looking a little better these days though, and she had yet to text to me. I figured she'd moved what had happened to her into the file cabinet of denial. I didn't want to force her to talk about it or deal with it.

  "Harlow! Wait up!" I turned my head toward the sound of my name, seeing Jake trying to push his way through the clusters of students clogging up the hallway. He reached my side and kept up with my pace. "Hey…I meant to ask…how's that girl? Callie?"

  "Jenna…" I corrected. "I think she's okay," I shrugged, frowning. "I don't want to force her to talk about it so…"

  "Yeah," Jake said awkwardly. "That's probably…a good idea." He looked completely out of his element. "You haven't seen…him around again, have you?"

  Jake knew about how Andrew had chased me after work one day, although I'd left out the part about running into Iain completely.

  "No, I haven't. Thank God." I sighed.

  "Good," Jake nodded in agreement, pursing his lips angrily. "God, I want to teach that guy a lesson."

  "Why hasn't anybody?" I asked him. "He's an arrogant prick, oh and a rapist."

  "Because…" Jake raised one eyebrow. "His dad."

  "Oh right," I rolled my eyes. "Let's just let Junior get away with everything." I stomped off, not waiting for Jake to catch up.

  Chapter Four

  My secret relationship with Iain was effortless. I didn't have anyone to tell, and I didn't want to. I wanted to keep every delicious detail to myself. Iain and I maintained our teacher/student relationship while at school, and we didn't often see each other during the week. We hung out every Saturday, except for the occasional quickie during the week after work. Every time with Iain was amazing, and I couldn't help but feel as if I was free falling into something wonderful. It wasn't just about the sex either, although that was definitely amazing. Iain and I were just great together. We couldn't do anything in public, obviously, but we'd spend hours curled up on his couch just talking and laughing.

  Iain was always very open and honest with me. It wasn't long into our relationship that he had told me a lot about his life—that he'd been the middle child of three boys and one girl, and that all his siblings had been heavily into sports and he'd been very into books. He had told me about taking the advance track programs in university so he could become a teacher sooner, because he'd always known that was what he wanted to do. He had told me about the six months he took backpacking around Europe with friends straight out of high school, about all the crazy adventures they'd gone on. He'd told me about the book he wanted to write, then joked about it—what English teacher didn't want to write a book? Then he told me about the girl he nearly proposed to, two years prior, who had broken his heart.

  Iain's open honesty made me want to be honest, but…I couldn't. The only person who had known every gruesome detail had been Lauren. I hadn't even attempted to tell anyone else. Lauren only knew because she just knew. She was incredibly skilled at reading people, better than even me, and it was almost like the scars of my past had been written on my forehead. I wasn't ready to share that much of myself with anybody else, and I didn't know if I ever would.

  * * * *

  One Saturday night in mid-October, as we curled up together on his couch, he started kissing me, exploring my mouth with his like he'd never kissed me before. It was almost disorienting.

  "Why me?" I suddenly asked, unable to stop myself. "I mean…you don't have flings with all the students, do you?"

  "Yes, every last one of them. Even the guys." Iain pulled away slightly and rolled his eyes. Then he realized that I was asking him a serious question. "No, I've never had a fling, or even a desire to have a fling, with a student before. Although, I suppose that's not saying much considering this is only my first year of teaching."

  "Comforting," I joked.

  "There's just something about you…" he continued. "I felt it the moment I saw you. This impossible pull. I know it's too early for declarations of adoration, but just know that this isn't a random need I want to fill."

  "Okay," I said, unable to think of a more brilliant response to that. My heart was pounding, from his kissing expertise, his closeness and his words. He leaned toward me to continue kissing me, and paused when I frowned.

  "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

  I shook my head, unable to voice it. Never before had I felt so strongly for someone, and it felt like it was all happening impossibly fast, like a train going at warp speed. It left me dizzy and disoriented, but pleasantly so. I didn't want to get off. I wanted to stay on for the ride and see where we ended up…even if we crashed, even if there was a lot at stake. I wondered how it was possible to feel so much for someone so quickly, and to give every bit of yourself without really giving it? That's what I was doing. I was open and vulnerable, only not with my words. At the same time, it was easy to forget everything else when I was with him.

  "Just kiss me," I said huskily, trying to push down the overwhelming amount of feelings. I'd deal with them later.

  * * * *

  The few weeks passed by in pretty much the same manner. I went to school, I worked, and I hung out with Iain late at night. I told nobody about our relationship.

  One day at school, I was in the washroom washing my hands when I heard someone burst into the bathroom. It was Jenna, she was wearing a larger cardigan than usual, and she looked ashen and clammy. She barely spared me a glance as she raced toward a stall and slammed the door behind her. It pounced off the lock and remained half opened. She vomited loudly into the toilet, her shoulders heaving.

  "Jenna? Are you okay?" I asked, drying my hands on a paper towel and watching her carefully.

  "No," Jenna clamped a hand over her mouth and returned to the stall to vomit some more. Dread settled in my gut.

  "Jenna...are you…could you be…?" I trailed off, not wanting to voice my concerns. She looked back at me, tears welling up in her eyes, and nodded once. "Jesus."

  She laughed bitterly. "I know, right? I was saving myself for marriage…" she said, sounding embarrassed at her confession. "My first time and I didn't even want to, and now…" she trailed off, the tears finally releasing down her cheeks. "I don't know what to do. I haven't told anyone. My parents are extremely religious. They're going to kill me."

  "Are you…" I didn't know how to ask her, so I closed my mouth. She lifted her head up to stare at the ceiling.
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  "I don't know, I don't know if I can keep it…" Jenna sobbed. "But I can't…kill it." I grabbed another paper towel and ran it under the cold water, ringing it out before I stepped up to her stall door and offered it to her.

  I wracked my brain for something to say and could find absolutely nothing of comfort.

  "I'm sorry," I said finally. She nodded, fresh tears spilling out of her eyes. "Are you going to tell your parents?"

  "I'm going to have to, I think." Jenna sighed. "I've thought long and hard about getting an abortion, but I…I can't do that. I can't kill an innocent child."