Make Me Bad: Private Lessons

by Vega, W. H.

  Friday rolls around, I start to feel anxious that it’s nearly the weekend and I haven’t heard from him. I don’t think we’re in a relationship. It seems to me that what we have is strictly physical, and I'm enjoying it...immensely. But I can't help thinking about Luc and wondering what he's up to at various points of the day. A few times, I considered dropping by his apartment, but I knew that would come across as crazy. The thought that he might be having sex with other women crossed my mind, and it was more than I can handle, so I pushed it away to the back of my mind. I have no claim over Luc, but deep down I want him all to myself.

  Cleo and I are split into separate project groups during our morning history class. Cleo and her group head to the library, while my group stays and works in the empty classroom. After a boring hour detailing an ancient map, we finally end our session. I call Cleo but she doesn’t pick up and I figure her group's still working.

  It's close to two in the afternoon and I'm feeling hungry. I consider going home and rummaging for something in our flat, but it wouldn’t be as fun as finding something delicious to eat out.

  I head away from campus in search of a sandwich shop I'd visited once during our first week. I remember having an amazing sandwich on the most delicious bread and I set out, determined to find the place again.

  I go up and down a few streets before I begin second-guessing my sense of direction. Maybe it wasn’t as close to campus as I remember it being. I turn down another corner and come to an abrupt halt. Not more than ten yards in front of me, is Luc with another woman.

  I can’t help but stare as the beautiful redhead gives Luc a long, lingering hug and two cheek kisses. Luc smiles and I realize they are speaking in French. That’s right—Luc told me that his mother was French. He must have learned it as a child. It would explain why he speaks French so fluently.

  The woman’s manicured hand rests on Luc’s arm. She laughs flirtatiously and leans in towards him. I wouldn’t say that Luc is flirting back, but he’s definitely not pulling away and my heart is breaking all the same.

  I know that Luc aren’t committed, we’ve never had an agreement of any kind, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt to see him with another woman.

  The woman, who is tall and willowy, is dressed in stylish black pants and wearing a trendy cream pea coat. She plays with her hair and rubs Luc’s arm again. He gives her hand an affectionate squeeze and then they break apart.

  As she turns and heads away from me, Luc turns and faces me. It’s impossible to hide, I am standing directly in front of him and our eyes meet immediately. I’m embarrassed, hurt and surprised all at the same time. I wasn’t spying on Luc, but I feel like I walked in on a private moment. My hunger disappears. Mortified, I turn around and flee. I turn the corner and blindly hurry towards a Metro sign in the distance. I need to get home.

  “Madison! I see you! Wait!” Luc calls out from behind me, having followed me around the corner.

  I feel my eyes prick with tears, which only makes me angrier with myself. Why do I have to cry?

  “Damn it, Madison! I know you can hear me!” he yells, and his voice is closer now. He reaches me just before I make it to the station stairs.

  “What?” I ask, “What do you want?”

  “Why did you run like that? I can explain who that woman is.” He’s looking especially handsome today in his black leather jacket and t-shirt and I hate him for it.

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” I snap, letting my emotions get the best of me.

  “Well, you’re right,” he says slowly, “We haven’t had any kind of conversation, but I can imagine what that looked like and I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “What does it matter? You’re free to fuck whomever you want.” I know I sound childish.

  “I’m not fucking anyone else,” he whispers angrily, “I know you’re upset by what you saw. I can see it on your face. And why else would you run after seeing me?”

  Busted.

  “I’m sorry! I have no reason to be upset! I’m an idiot. Let’s just forget all this ever happened.”

  “No!” he says, angry still, “Let’s not ‘just forget’ about this! Let’s talk about it!”

  “I need to go home, Luc.”

  “Bullshit. Why don’t you grow up for five minutes and let me explain what you saw?”

  That stops me in my tracks. He’s right. I’m being immature again.

  I take a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m not acting like an adult. Go ahead. You can explain.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Thank you. Her name is Juliette. She’s a childhood friend who I knew a long time ago.”

  I sulk. “Okay.”

  He sighs. “And yes, she was flirting with me, if you want to know.” He throws his hands up in frustration and paces away from me. When he turns around and heads back towards me, his face his filled with angst and his eyes are bright with annoyance.

  “And you want to know what else?” he asks not waiting for me to answer. “The entire time that she was flirting with me, and batting her eyelashes, and telling me about her life and alluding to the fact that we should spend more time together, the only damn thing I could think about was you!”

  I peer up at him, slightly mollified, still unsure of where this is going.

  “So, what the hell is wrong with me?” he challenges. “There’s a beautiful woman my age coming on to me and the only thing I can think about is you! How sexy and sweet you are! How you aren’t jaded, and you’re not playing games! Thinking about your body, about getting you back into my bed and spending the entire day exploring every damn inch of you...”

  He finally stops, his mouth twisted in fury, and I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered, but I’m confused; he sounds so upset about the feelings he has for me.

  “So? What’s wrong with that?” I ask in a small voice.

  “What’s wrong is the fact that I shouldn’t be thinking about you this much! You’re too young for me!”

  “I think about you too,” I say softly.

  “Well, you shouldn’t!” He walks away and then comes back. “And that isn’t as bad. You’re young and impressionable—it’s quite normal for a student to have a crush on her teacher.” He frowns, tugging at his hair. “It’s entirely different for a teacher to have a crush on his student. It’s not right!”

  I duck my head so he can’t see the hurt on my face. My brain understands what he’s saying, but I’m still upset by his words.

  “I’m sorry,” he says gently, reaching for my arm. “I’ve hurt your feelings. I can tell. There is nothing wrong with you. I think you’re fantastic, and that’s part of the problem. I know I should stay away from you, but I keep coming back to you; I keep thinking about you.”

  “So, let’s do something about that,” I say hurriedly before I can stop myself. I bite my lip. I spoke too soon.

  “Like what?” he asks wryly.

  I shrug, looking down at the ground. “Let’s see each other regularly.”

  “Dating?”

  “We don’t need to label it.”

  He laughs. “Now you sound like the older one.” He’s quiet, running his hands through his hair. “We could consider it.”

  “Consider dating?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  Is that what I want? I think so, but I’m afraid to admit it. “What do you want?” I counter.

  “Oh no,” he smirks, “I asked you first.”

  “Fine. If we’re being totally honest, I don’t care what we call it, but I want to see more of you.”

  “And we would be exclusive?” he asks.

  I look around nervously, and assess our chances of being overheard. “We’re going to talk about this here?” I ask.

  He looks around us as people bustle to and from the Metro. “Good point. Let’s have this conversation somewhere else.”

  He quickly starts to move through the crowd and I hurry to keep up with him. He goes down to the Metr
o and we quickly get on the next train.

  “Let’s move away from the university,” he explains, “less of a chance of someone seeing us.”

  I have to agree with him. We get off at the stop near our apartments.

  “I live right around the corner,” I can’t help but saying.

  He cocks his head. “I thought you lived nearby. I didn’t realize how close.”

  “I’d say we could go to my apartment, but I’m not sure when Cleo will be back.”

  “Probably best not to then. Are you hungry?”

  My stomach growls and I remember what I initially set out for when I ran into Luc and his red-haired beauty. I nod.

  “Alright, let’s get you something to eat and we can talk.”

  We duck into a quiet and dark café; one I imagine doesn’t appeal to many tourists.

  “Ever been in here?” he asks. I shake my head, nervously playing with my hair. Why does Luc put me on edge? One second he’s hard and angry, and the next second he’s sweetly taking care of me. “Me either. Let’s sit in the back.”

  We make our way to the back and I pick up a menu. Luc orders a hot tea and I order a soda, sandwich and side salad.

  “This is weird,” I observe, a nervous giggle escaping my lips. I’m starting to feel like a lunatic.

  “How so?” Luc has put his cup down and he’s staring intently at me. His dark eyes are filled with emotions I can’t read and my fingers itch to reach out and touch his wild hair. I briefly wonder what it would be like for Luc to be mine, really mine: to belong to him.

  I’ve never had a relationship where I felt like a true partner to the other person. I guess because I’m so young. I’ve had two serious relationships, but looking back, they seem so juvenile. I think about my parents and wonder what it’s like to really love someone and to truly have a partnership with them. Even though I hardly know Luc, I really believe that I can handle him. I can handle his dark moods and, I think, I can make his life happier.

  I shake my head to clear my crazy thoughts.

  “What?” he asks, “What are you thinking? Something was just going through your head.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I mumble, “just silly thoughts.”

  “Like what?”

  “No. I really can’t say. I’ll sound crazy. Sometimes my imagination gets the best of me.”

  “Madison,” he says with stern softness, gently laying his hand over mine. “We came here to talk about us. The least you can do is tell me what crazy thoughts are running through that mind of yours.”

  Oh God, I’m mortified. “It’s just – well – I was thinking that I would be good for you.” I look down at the table, unable to look him in the eyes. “I know you get into these weird funks, and have darker moods, and I just think that, you know, if we were to make this,” I gesture to the two of us, “a little more serious, I could be good for you. I could make you happy.” I finally get the nerve to look at him and I’m shocked by what I see.

  His face is an open book. For a moment, I get a glimpse at a vulnerable man and I can see that in some strange way, he really does care about me. He rearranges his features so that he doesn’t look as raw, and he sighs as he strokes my hand.

  “I agree,” he says quietly. He sees the look of shock on my face. “You are good for me, and that worries me.”

  “That makes no sense,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Look, I think you’re amazing. I think you’re beautiful and sexy, and incredibly talented. How could I not be attracted to you, especially since we share a passion for music? Not to mention, the fact that being intimate with you is completely mind-blowing.”

  Wow. I blow Luc Pascal’s mind in bed? I feel that way about him, but I find it hard to believe that, with my little experience, I could be mind-blowing in bed.

  “So, we came here to talk about what is going on with us. Tell me what you want.” Luc leans back in his chair, sipping his tea, his eyes seductive and enticing.

  “I told you. I’d like to see more of you. I understand that people might look down on this relationship or judge us, but I don’t know if I feel the same way you do. I don’t know if it would be such a scandal.”

  He lets out a bitter laugh. “This is part of the reason I find you so endearing – your naïveté,” he explains. “You and I being together would definitely be a scandal.”

  “It’s not that many years of an age difference,” I sulk.

  “You’re twenty-one?” he asks.

  “I’ll be twenty-two in January,” I offer, as if this fact makes a substantial difference.

  He manages a small grin. “It’s a ten year difference, Madison. That is a big deal. And not only that, but I’m your teacher.” He stresses the last word to emphasize his point. “It’s so cliché. People might not take you seriously if they know you’re with me. They might you were sleeping with me to help your career.”

  My jaw drops. I never considered that. “No,” I whisper, “People really wouldn’t think that.” But I know he’s right. How stupid of me not to consider that. I grew up surrounded by fame. It’s common for young stars to try and sleep their way to the top, or do whatever they could to get ahead of their competition.

  Luc waits patiently as he watches the wheels turn in my brain. “You’re too talented,” he finally says, “I don’t want that for you. And this is far less important, but people would think that I was taking advantage of you – using my status and ‘experience’ to bring you under my influence.”

  “This sucks,” I moan. There’s a small part of me that jumps ahead to the future, and wonders if once I made a name for myself, I would be free to be with Luc.

  “You see? We can’t share this with the world. Especially considering the extra scrutiny we would come under because of who you are.”

  My sandwich is placed in front of me, and I look down at it hopelessly. Suddenly, this lunch with Luc has become depressing.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Luc

  I feel bad for Madison as I watch a myriad of emotions cross her face. One second she is bright and hopeful, and the next, the reality of how problematic us being together truly is sinks in, and she’s sad and forlorn.

  I don’t even bring up my own issues. At this point, the less she knows the better.

  “That being said,” I say, not wanting to upset her, “I would still like to see you more. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t have any desire to see other people.” I frown darkly as I imagine her with some young college bro. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t see other people, either.”

  That brings a small smile to her face. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ooh, are you jealous?”

  “Yes,” I say bluntly. “I am jealous. The thought of you with some cocksure, young college frat brother is a bit more than I can take.”

  She bursts out laughing. “Doesn’t appeal to me,” she bites her lip seductively, “You’re the only one I can think about.”

  She’s crazy. Maybe Madison has mental issues too. The fact that she wants to be with me over someone her own age is ridiculous though, secretly, I’m glad.

  “Okay, but we have to make one exception on who knows.”

  I shoot her a wary look. Nothing good can come from that.

  “Cleo,” she explains. “She’s my roommate and my best friend. I’ve known her since my freshman year, and I’ve never kept anything from her. I promise she won’t judge and this will make things a lot easier. I can’t keep sneaking around behind her back like this. She’s going to figure it out eventually and then it’s going to hurt our friendship.”

  She crosses her arms stubbornly, challenging me to argue with her.

  She does have a point. She and Cleo live together and Madison has had to lie and sneak around so much already.

  “Fine. Cleo and Cleo only. No Grace. No Ava. No one else in the study abroad program.”

  “Seriously? That’s great!” She bounces up and down in her seat with excitement
and once more, I find myself drawn to her energy. When she calms down, she takes a sip of her soda and stares at me. “Do you plan on seeing Juliette again?”

  I gather my thoughts before responding, trying to think of an appropriate way to answer. “At lunch we talked about getting together again,” I say carefully, “She has two children that she would like me to meet.”

  “She’s married?”

  “No, divorced.”

  I can see that she isn’t thrilled by this revelation, though she seems to be trying hard not to make a big deal out of it.

  “And you believe that Juliette has a thing for you?” she asks instead.

  “I don’t know,” I say, unable to hide the slight annoyance in my voice. How the hell am I to know what goes on inside the mind of any woman?

  “Possibly… I’m not an expert on these things, but I would say she might have some interest. She knows that I’m only here until December, so I don’t imagine she’s interested in a long term relationship.”

  “Lovely. So she just wants to be your fuck buddy.” Madison sticks her tongue out, the thought completely unappealing to her.

  “I really don’t know what she wants. But I have a feeling she wants more than I want.”

  “So, do you plan on seeing her again?” she repeats.

  “She is a very old friend from the past. Since I don’t have any intention of sleeping with her, or starting a relationship with her, I have considered seeing her again and meeting her family.” I watch Maddie’s reaction. “Unless you'd have a very big problem with that. I wouldn’t want to do something that would make you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not crazy about the idea, but I think I should trust you,” she says slowly. “From what I saw on the street, I would definitely say she has a thing for you. But if you’re telling me that you aren’t interested, then I don’t want to be a bitch and tell you that you can’t go.”

  The truth is the way that Juliette was coming on to me was very flattering. But aside from the fact that Juliette and I live on different continents and I’m not a kid person, she has an air about her that a lot of single, divorced women have – desperation. Apparently, it’s not exclusive to American divorcées.