She finally turns toward me, a serious expression on her face. “My dad dated a lot. Not really girlfriends, but they’d come in and out for a while, always smiling at me and pretending to tolerate me for his sake. I knew it was all fake.”
She’s smarter than I realize.
“Well, I’m not faking, just so you know.”
She shrugs, moving her eyes back to the screen. “Doesn’t matter either way.”
“Why’s that?”
“You really think you and Uncle Morgan are going to be one of those long lasting types?”
I purse my lips, a crease forming on my forehead. She’s eleven but talks like she’s thirty. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
I release a small laugh. “I went through the same stage as you when I was younger.”
“What stage?”
“Pushing people away, not wanting to make friends with anyone, not wanting people to take pity on you, or think you’re fragile and weak. You build up these inner walls that prevent you from hurting any more than you already are. I get that. I really do, because I’ve been doing it for over six years. But you know what?” She faces me, her features soften, and her lips form into a frown.
“What?”
“It gets really lonely. And tiring. Always pushing people away.”
She studies my features for a moment before speaking. “So why did you?”
I shrug. “It’s all I knew how to do in order to deal with what I was going through. I didn’t have a support system until recently, and it was just how I dealt with the anger inside, but holding it in for so long becomes more a burden than a release.”
Her lashes lower and I know I’ve hit a sore spot.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping I haven’t upset her. “I just want to help.”
“It’s fine.”
“You can talk to me about it anytime you want. I lost my sister when I was just a little older than you, and so I know a thing or two about being angry.” I flash a small, sincere smile, and she flashes one back, the first time I’ve seen a genuine smile on her face.
Morgan and I spend every free moment we have together in between classes and work. I know he’s worried about me from the way he’s always asking if I’m doing all right. He’s concerned about my anxiety and one more thing putting me over the edge to have a complete panic attack or something. I can’t say I blame him, considering the circumstances, but if I keep myself busy enough, I don’t have time to think about it. I can process Ari’s notebooks on my own without dragging everyone else with me since the only one that needs to work through it is me.
Being around Natalia is a nice and welcome distraction. We chat every time I come over, and I’m starting to feel her get closer to me, which both terrify and excites me. She’s already gone through so much heartbreak, I don’t want to cause any more if something happens between Morgan and me.
But I don’t let myself think about any of that because being with Morgan feels more right than anything I’ve ever felt before. We’re even getting better being in class together, pretending that nothing is happening between us, and Ellie hasn’t mentioned anything to me since, so I think it’s actually working.
I’ve been tempted to go to his office and surprise him in nothing but a bra and panties, but I know we have to be smart about this, so for now, we keep it strictly student and teacher on campus.
But the moment, we go to his or my house, all bets are off. The heat and passion haven’t sizzled one bit. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt this way, the need to constantly want more of someone. It drives me insane—in the absolutely best way possible.
A week passes and things are still as smooth as ever. I keep Ari’s journals in my room, not wanting to be too far from then. Even though she wanted to take her secret to the grave, I like having a part of her with me.
By the following Monday, I’m nearly skipping around campus like a little girl who just found out she’s going to Disneyland. I’m dying to tell someone, maybe Ellie, but I know I should at least wait until this semester is over so she doesn’t taunt me every chance she gets.
After my first morning class, I walk through the commons area to the small cafe when I see Professor Van Bergen walking directly toward me.
“Hey,” I say politely, waiting for her to walk past me, but her feet stay planted on the ground.
“Aspen…” she drawls out my name and my body shivers. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you.”
My brows furrow. “Oh? What about?”
“I think you know exactly what.” My heart starts beating faster, and I’m pretty sure she can see the sweat forming on my forehead.
“Sorry, I have no idea. Was it school related?”
A sly smirk spreads wickedly across her face. “You could say that.”
I swallow. “What is it?”
“I’m going to need you to end your little relationship with Professor Hampton.”
My heart stops.
At least, I’m pretty sure it does because I can’t breathe.
“Yes, I know. Don’t look so shocked.”
I blink and keep my composure the best I can. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No?” She fishes for her phone and grabs it out of her purse pocket. “Do these pictures not imply something going on between you two? Something more than just student and teacher?”
They’re pictures of us talking after class, closely. One is of us outside even, his hand briefly brushing mine, but he doesn’t hold it.
“It proves nothing,” I say confidently. “It’s my word against yours.”
She tucks her phone back in her purse and leans in closer to my face, our eyes level. “And just who’s word do you think the board will believe?”
“Why would you want to get him fired?”
“I don’t, but I wouldn’t mind seeing your scholarship and graduate school references disappear.”
My jaw ticks at her implication, and I feel like clawing my fingers into those stupid deceiving eyes. “I have one year left,” I try to defend. “What is it you want from me?”
“I want the little love birds to break up. For good. None of this pretending you’ve broken up stuff because, honey, I’ll know.”
My back stiffens, and I resist the urge to wipe that devilish grin off her stupid face. “And how would you know? You plan on following me? Putting a GPS locator on my car? Why should I even believe you?” I cross my arms, ready for a fight.
“I’m a very smart woman, Aspen. Do you really want to risk it? One indication that you’ve told him is all I need. With one press of a button, the email regarding your little, forbidden affair will be sent directly to the board and dean, pictures included.”
“So you’re willing to get him fired and throw my chances at getting into grad school for what…to prove a point?”
“It doesn’t really matter why. But if you must know, I saw him first. We were hitting it off until you started shaking your twenty-something ass and grabbed his attention away from me. So if you want to remain on the track to grad school without getting a single parent fired, you’ll gladly do exactly what I ask.”
Shit. She knows about Natalia.
“You’re an evil bitch,” I hiss.
Her lips tilt up into a pleased, victorious smile. “Glad we’re on the same page.” She steps around me and shimmies her ass, stomping on my heart with every click of her heel.
I want to cry. And scream. But mostly cry.
This man has managed to mend my aching heart, and now I’m forced to break his.
I turn around and head straight for my car with my head down.
At least, I wait until I’m inside to release the tears.
MORGAN
I know Aspen isn’t okay.
I just wish she’d open up to me and let me in. But I can’t blame her entirely.
I’m good at shutting people out as well.
But I had hoped we were passed that
by now. She’s made me want to open up to her entirely, even if it hurt to admit that pain aloud.
Monday, she sends me a weird text saying that she won’t be able to come over after work, and I feel it in my gut that something’s wrong. But instead of interrogating her, I give her the space she needs.
Tuesday comes and goes, Wednesday the same.
By Wednesday night, I can’t take it anymore. I go to her apartment and knock on her door, knowing she won’t be expecting me but needing to speak to her.
She hardly acts affected by me standing in her doorway. I want to grab her, tangle my hands in her hair, and kiss her. But she takes a step back and allows me to step inside.
“What are you doing here?”
“That’s all you have to say for yourself? What the hell is going on, Aspen?”
“I’ve been busy.”
“So that means you can’t return a text?” I challenge, her eyes lowering to her feet as she shrugs. “Jesus, Aspen.” I brush a frustrated hand through my hair and start pacing.
“Sorry.”
“What’s going on? Are you avoiding me because you don’t want this? Or is something else going on that I don’t know about? Is it about your sister? Or mom? Aspen, please. Talk to me.”
She finally looks up, and I see the pain in her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“I’m sorry, Morgan. I never meant to hurt you.”
“Really?” I nearly choke out in a mock laugh. “That’s ironic.”
“I’m going through a lot right now and need to get my shit together before I can fully be with someone.” Her voice is shaky, unconfident, but I don’t call her on it.
“I opened up to you, Aspen. About everything. I trusted you. Apparently, it was only one-sided.”
“I told you a lot more than I tell anyone. It’s not easy for me…” she defends, and I see the truth in her eyes. “But you’re right, it is a good thing. It just proves this isn’t meant to work.”
And just like that, the piece of my heart that I still had left shatters.
“I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this.” I brush a hand through my hair, squeezing and pulling in frustration. “What happened? What’s happened from the last few days of everything being great to…this?”
“Nothing,” she reassures me. “I-I just can’t stop pretending anymore.”
“Pretending? Pretending what?”
“I’m not who you think I am. I have a lot more issues inside that I don’t feel right burdening anyone with—especially you.”
“Wait, what? Whatever it is, we can work through it together. I promise, Aspen. I’m not scared just because of your past. I want to fight it with you. Why won’t you let me?”
She swallows, looking up at the ceiling, fighting the tears from falling down. I see the struggle in her body language, making me desperate to reach out and touch her.
She bows her head and curses before looking at me, her eyes red. “My sister…” she begins, wrapping a hand around her throat and stumbling. “Her name was Ariel Rose.”
I freeze, letting her words sink in. “Wait, what?”
“I told you. I’m not who you think I am.” Tears are freely falling down her cheeks now, her voice trembling as she continues. “I’ve been lying, pretending to be someone I’m not. And I can’t do it anymore. I do care about you and wanted to spare your feelings.”
I choke out a pathetic laugh, cursing and pacing. “Too fucking late.” I shake my head and walk out the door, ignoring the burning pain in my chest and resisting the urge to run back to her the second I leave.
I speed the whole way home, ignoring every aching desire to turn around and call her on her bullshit.
She’s Ariel Rose?
How can that fucking be?
She’s told me on numerous occasions that her pieces are personal, she doesn’t like sharing them, or—
Of fucking course.
Ariel Rose is her freedom to be whoever she wants without any consequences of people putting a face to a name.
But why didn’t she tell me? I could see her not wanting to tell me right away, but what about once we were together? We were together. All the time. Before class, after class, and sometimes in between. Every day we were growing closer and closer, and I thought the feelings were mutual.
Hell, I know they were mutual.
But perhaps her demons were worse than I thought? Or maybe I was just a distraction until she worked through them?
The unanswered questions scream at me, making me question everything I thought I knew about us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ASPEN
I haven’t slept in days. And I’m pretty sure all my tears have dried up because I can’t even get one stupid tear to drop. Or maybe I’m just too weak to make anymore.
The way his eyes looked at me is forever burned into my brain. Betrayal, hurt, anger. The moment he left, I sank to my knees and cried. I just hurt the one person who meant more to me than anything. The one person who saw me for me—more than what is on the surface.
He saw through me.
But what hurts even more is how he walked out…
But I deserve it.
Every minute of pain since then, I deserve it.
I’ve skipped his Thursday night class because I just couldn’t bear seeing him. I know it’s the coward’s way out, but what can I do? My heart is completely shattered. Seeing him would only bring me over the edge.
After sulking alone on the couch all Friday night, I grab a bottle of wine from my fridge that I’ve had sitting in there for weeks. I decide I want to read more of Ariel’s entries, but if I’m going to go in self-torture mode, I need some liquid courage.
Walking out of the kitchen, I hear banging on my front door. It’s Kendall and she looks like a hot mess.
“Here to join the party?” I hold up the bottle of wine in my hand and give her a sympathetic look.
“Can I please?”
I extend my arm and motion for her to come in, shutting the door behind us. “Self-pity, party of two.”
She walks to the kitchen, dragging a chair behind her, and grabs two wine glasses from the top shelf. “Surprised you even had any glasses left.”
“They were smart and knew to hide up high in the cabinet where I couldn’t reach them.”
She snorts. “Wine me.” She puts her glass out in front of me and waits for me to pour some.
“So are you going to tell me what’s going on?” We walk to the living room and sit on opposite ends of the couch.
“No. Are you going to tell me why you’ve been moping around your apartment all week?”
“No.”
We both sit and drink our wine. After two glasses, I turn the TV on and ask what she wants to watch.
“Anything that isn’t romance related, romantic comedy, or even has a smidge of kissing.”
She doesn’t have to continue for me to know what’s bothering her. Men.
I click through Netflix and scroll through the thrillers. I finally stop on Silence of the Lambs and when she doesn’t object, I press play.
For the next two hours, I block everything out and stare at the screen, grabbing another bottle of wine in between. We don’t talk. We just sit in silence and drink.
It’s a relief.
“Now that I’ve gotten you drunk and scared to sleep alone, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
She wrinkles her nose and giggles. Oh yeah, she’s a goner.
“I had sex with someone.”
“And it was so bad you had to come over here for a wine fest?” I raise a brow.
“No, it was good.” Her eyes soften. “Really, really good.” Her cheeks redden.
“Then what’s the matter?”
She shrugs, lowering her eyes. “I kept thinking about Kellan the whole time. Comparing and wondering if it was going to be as good, or if I was going to be good for him, and then his name slipped from my lips.”
My eyes widen in a
n ‘oh, shit’ expression. “Did he get mad?”
“No, I don’t think he heard me.”
“So…?”
“So I shouldn’t be having sex with other men while thinking of my ex. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“No.” I deadpan.
She chokes out a laugh. “Well, I do. I’m not used to meaningless sex. It was great, but I felt so cheap afterward.”
“Yeah, you become numb to that after a while.”
“I don’t want to be numb, though. I want a relationship.”
“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
“How would you know?” she teases, but I don’t smile.
I can’t.
So I opt for the truth.
“Being in a relationship is scary. Opening yourself up to be vulnerable, showing your flaws and insecurities. It’s terrifying,” I admit.
“Yeah.” She closes her eyes and leans back against the couch. “Why can’t this shit just be simple? Man meets woman. Woman falls for man. Man and woman get married and live happily ever after.”
“Because you grew up believing Cinderella’s fairytale.”
She sits up and opens her eyes, gulping the last of her wine. “Is that too much to ask? A handsome prince being all sweet and kind to his princess? No cheating, lies, and crushing hearts.”
“Sounds like a Taylor Swift song.” I snort.
“Don’t be a love hater.” She scowls.
I laugh into my wine and contemplate telling her the truth. The rational side of me says, ‘No, the wound is still too fresh’ but the drunken side of me says, ‘Tell her!’ Plus, it’d be great to finally get it off my chest and tell someone.
“I’m not,” I say seriously. “In fact, I fell for someone.”
“WHAT?” She screeches so loud, I’m sure the old guy who lives next to me and always forgets to turn his hearing aid on heard. “How’s that even possible?”
“Even the flawed and damaged are capable of love,” I mock.
“All right. Now you have to spill. Evvvvverything…” she slurs, grabbing the neck of the wine bottle that’s been empty for over a half hour. “After we get more wine from my place.” She sets it back down, and I laugh.
Pushing the Limits: A Student/Teacher Romance Page 28