Текст книги "Indisputable"
Автор книги: A. M. Wilson
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 19 страниц)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tatum
I pull a pillow over my head as Wyatt calls again. Over and over for the past half an hour. He needs to take a hint. I’d turn the thing off, but I don’t want him to know I’m by my phone. If I just don’t answer, maybe he will think I’m asleep and leave me alone. Somehow I doubt it, so I’ve kept all the lights off in my apartment, and I’m laying quietly in bed with nothing but my own thoughts.
This week has been a mess, but tonight is a new low. I don’t know what is wrong with me, coming on to Jacoby the way I did. Yeah, he’s ridiculously hot if I’m being honest, and he’s been willingly taking care of me when nobody ever has before. And I am an adult, clearly capable of making my own decisions.
But he’s still my teacher.
Even if he were interested in me—which he’s clearly not as so defined by his actions tonight—I’m certain he could lose his job over dating a student, regardless of my age. All signs point to how bad of an idea this all is. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop my mind from wanting him.
But why?
Why do I want this guy who didn’t even like me until he rescued me from being assaulted? We didn’t have some instant spark-like connection, no static, no electricity that are always described in the romance books I’m obsessed with. We hated each other for a few days after we met. My life is no fucking fairytale. I must have fallen for him because of his heroism or some nonsensical subconscious hormonal reaction I can’t explain.
Wait—what?
Knocking the pillow from my face, I come up for air. That must be it; I was restricting oxygen to my brain for a few minutes. After a few deep breaths though, nothing miraculous has changed. Now I feel ridiculous. I have not fallen for Jacoby. But madly crushing on his deep chocolate brown eyes, warms strong arms, soft tender lips and sexy smile? Yup. Most definitely. I can’t deny that.
My phone rings again and again, so without accidently pushing the ignore button, I silence the ringer. I shouldn’t have left Mr. Ryan’s house. I should have locked myself in the bedroom and sorted through my feelings, much like I’m doing right now. At least then I’d have been safe at his place. Not here, paranoid and hiding under my blanket like a freaking child where I can guarantee Wyatt is going to be pounding on my door in twenty minutes.
I don’t know what to do now. I can’t go crawling back to Jacoby and ask to stay with him again, because even though I left out of hurt, it wasn’t the wrong thing to do. I meant what I said about not staying there forever. He gave me a couple days to sleep soundly, and now I need to move on and get back to my life. Wyatt will give up eventually. And if I’m careful, he won’t be able to get to me again.
I put my earphones in and turn my iPod to shuffle, content with knowing this is for the best. That doesn’t mean, as I lie back on my pillow and close my eyes, it isn’t Jacoby’s face I see, but at least I know we never could have made it work. Not for several more months when I would graduate, if ever.
My eyelids fall heavy, and I drift off to the sound of Joshua Radin serenading me in my ears…
Thump, thump, thump!
The rapid pounding startles me from my unremarkable dream, and I bolt straight up in my bed where I had fallen asleep still wearing my clothes.
Thump, thump, thump!
Do I pretend I’m asleep, or do I tell him to fuck off? Maybe I should call the cops.
Finding my phone off the floor, where I must have knocked it off the bed, I pad nervously to the door. Sliding my feet the last few inches, I brace myself on the door frame and stand on tip toe to peer into the peephole. I see nothing except the empty hall. He’s toying with me. Lowering myself to flat feet once more, I remain motionless, afraid he’s listening out of sight. But another thump, thump, thump causes me to gasp.
“Tatum? Tatum, open up. It’s me.”
Jacoby? What the hell is he doing here? Fighting my initial reaction to fling the door open, I look into the peep hole again. Sure enough, there he is. Brown hair tousled, his dark eyes rimmed with tired circles, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that.
“I’m fine,” I call back, tamping down the tiny thrill that flares in my belly. A stupid, gut clenching reaction because someone actually cares.
“I don’t believe you. Let me see you.”
“I don’t want to see you.” That’s the truth. I’m still hurt and embarrassed from earlier. I’ll see him Monday and even that will be far too soon.
“Tatum, I’m sorry.” Something in the way his voice cracks around my name has me peering into the little circular window once more. His hands are framed on either side of the door. He looks sad, stricken, like he’s warring with something inside of himself. I watch enraptured as he scrubs a hand across his eyes before he droops his head. “I need to make sure you’re okay, and then I’ll go.”
My fingers twitch with the ache to turn the lock and let him in. Instead, I turn around and slide my back down the door until I’m seated on the floor. No good can come from letting him in at three a.m. Especially after the weekend we’ve had. “I’m not letting you in.”
His sigh echoes through the door. “Fine. Then promise me you won’t leave.”
“Jacoby, I can’t.”
“I saw him in the parking lot. Wyatt…He was here, and I just need to know you’re safe.”
The mention of Wyatt kicks my heart rate up a notch. “I can’t have you keeping tabs on me. We’ll both go crazy.”
“Then just promise me, and I’ll go. Promise me you won’t leave alone or without telling a friend where you’re going. For a few days. Just until things die down.”
Closing my eyes, I try to fight off the tightness squeezing my chest at his concern. Letting out a shaky breath, I tell him, “I promise.”
A silence settles over us and a few minutes later I hear his footsteps retreat. When I finally pull myself up, I notice a small piece of paper behind where I had been sitting.
812-555-9633 Let me be that friend
I drive my palm into my eyes to relieve the sudden stinging sensation. I don’t know why I have such ridiculous reactions to his kindness. I don’t need to have him worrying about me—nobody ever has before—and I’ve made it out just fine. The paper crumbles in my sudden fist as I slowly drag myself to bed. Before crawling in to sleep, I make sure to leave the kitchen light on. Just in case someone decides to visit.
The clock beside my bed reads 12:37 when I wake the next morning, and after warring with myself for twenty minutes I decide to send Jacoby a text. After last night, I’m sure he’s either camped out in my parking lot, or at his house worried sick that he hasn’t heard from me.
Or maybe not.
I think it’s a bit of wish-fulfillment thinking that this guy could care enough to want to hear from me. I can’t remember a single time in my life where someone has worried about me. Letting myself believe that he cares does weird things to my heart. Weird, foreign things that feel kind of nice. That rapid heart rate and fluttering in my stomach is something I wouldn’t mind getting used to.
God, when did I turn into such a sap?
just woke up. wont leave the house today, fyi.
I leave my phone by my bed while I use the bathroom, and his response is waiting for me when I’m finished. That was quick.
Thanks for letting me know. I was wondering how late you’d sleep. He was thinking about me? A small smile tugs at my lips while I finish reading. Are you feeling okay? I still want to talk about what happened yesterday.
Leave it up to the teacher to use proper capitalization and punctuation while texting. I chew on my lip while I mull over my response. I don’t want to see him yet, and I definitely don’t want to argue with him again. There isn’t much more to be said. I like him. He might like me. But he doesn’t want to be with me, and I sort of, maybe want to be with him? I’m confused. Blowing out a deep breath, I type back:
Late nite. Im tired. Thx for asking, Professor. Nothin to talk about. See u tomorrow.
My phone buzzes again, but I ignore the text. Instead, I scroll through my log to call Kelsey.
“Hey, how are ya?” She answers cheerily, and I instantly feel better. Kelsey’s been a constant solid spot in my life since I started working with her, and some of the tension from the past week begins to leak away.
“I’m alright. Pretty tired. I didn’t sleep too good last night.”
“I know how that goes. Still shaken up over Mrs. Marsden?”
“Not really. I’m feeling okay with her passing. It was difficult in the moment, but now I’m okay.” Kelsey is an observant person, but even if she weren’t, it’s not hard to miss the way my voice shakes and cracks on the last word.
“Tatum…What’s wrong, sweetie? You were white as a sheet yesterday. Now you’re telling me you’re not sleeping well. Something’s up with you. You can trust me.”
“Some, something happened. And I’m not really sure I want to talk about it.” I begin tearing into my cuticles with my teeth and lower myself to the floor. Kelsey doesn’t immediately respond, and I know that’s her way of telling me to continue. I lean back against my bed. “Wyatt attacked me.”
“He what!?” she all but shouts into the phone. “Mother fuckin’ son-of-a-bitch. What happened?”
I release a shaky breath and close my eyes. “It’s a long story. Short version is he ended up giving me a ride to the school after hours, and he thought we were the only ones there…”
I give her a quick account of what happened in the stairwell, all while trying to keep the tears at bay. My fists clench around the edge of my brown and turquoise bedspread, which is draped beside me on the floor.
“Oh wow. Tatum, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay—ˮ
“No, it’s not fuckin’ okay! Don’t even start with that ‘this is my life, I’m used to it’ crap. You don’t deserve that from anybody.”
“Okay…”
“I know you’re just saying that to placate me, but I’ll let it go for now. I’m serious, though. You don’t deserve that. So who was it that stopped him?”
“Remember that teacher I told you about? The one I was punished to be his T.A. for two weeks?” I let the rest trail off. One. Two. Thre—
“Holy shit, no way. Tight Ass Math Teacher was there to rescue you?”
“Tight Ass Math Teacher?” I question through a giggle.
“I mean that literally and figuratively.”
“You’re nuts. Yes, him. Anyway, that’s not all.”
“Will you stop leaving all these cliffhangers and just spill it already?”
“Fine, fine. He pulled Wyatt off of me, and I was a total mess—“
Kelsey cut me off again. “Which you have every right—“
“Anyway! I was afraid to go home, so I spent the weekend at his house. And, another long story I’m going to shorten for you, we went out to meet his friend at a bar, and he ended up kissing me.”
“Are you serious?” she belts out in excitement. Leave it to Kelsey to be happy I kissed my teacher. “What else happened?”
“Nothing, you perv. It was a mistake. Except now I think I have real feelings for him, but he’s made it clear he doesn’t want me. So here I am, falling for my math teacher, and he’s basically said no way, not now, not ever.”
“Wait, you’re in love with him? Tatum, that’s like, really bad.”
“No! No, I’m not,” I blow out a deep breath. “I’m not in love with him. I’m just, I don’t know, liking him more than I’ve ever liked anyone else?” I finish in a rush, the end of my words lilting at the end to form a question I know Kelsey can’t answer. “I think the whole him rescuing me and being so sweet to me wreaked havoc on my hormones. I’m in trouble, Kels. I don’t know what to do.” I hastily wipe away the tear trailing from the corner of my eye. “I can’t be with him, and it sort of hurts.”
This is all new territory for me. Besides my hookups, I’ve never dated anyone, nor have I ever wanted to. And now that I find myself wanting to, the guy doesn’t want me. How messed up is that? I’ve spent years building walls, locking my heart in a cage, and setting parameters for myself, and in the course of one weekend he’s blasted through and shattered most everything. He’s proven himself loyal and trustworthy, caring and kind, supportive and protective. He’s been funny, sweet, and genuine. I’m amazed at how one weekend has been enough for me to want to open up to someone. But it’s like a knife to my chest that he doesn’t want me like that. Which is probably a sign that I should keep my walls in place and move on. He has the power to hurt me already, I can’t imagine the pain he could wield in a month or two.
“God, Tatum. The dirty side of me wants you to pursue him harder so I can live vicariously through you. Sleeping with a teacher would be so hot.”
“Kels…”
“But, the logical, mature side of me says it’s probably best to forget about that kiss. He would be risking his reputation and his career. Which totally sucks because I can hear it in your voice that you’re hooked. In reality, it’s not fair to ask him to risk all that.”
“I know.” Even I can hear the defeat in my voice, feel it in my heart. “I have one more week of being his T.A., and then it won’t be so hard to forget about him. Just over three months and I’ll graduate. I won’t ever have to see him again.”
Kelsey and I chat for another half an hour before I let her go so I can clean up a little. After my lack of motivation last week and being gone this weekend, I have week old dishes in the sink and a full laundry basket.
After throwing the top half of the basket into the washing machine without sorting, I begin to tackle the dishes. Mumford and Sons streams from my kindle while I scrub old soup stuck to a bowl. Music has always been a type of release for me, ever since I was old enough to turn on the radio without getting in trouble. Which was right around the time mom started leaving me home alone to run out with whoever she was seeing or buying drugs from at the time. I used to turn on whatever station I could find and turn the music up loud enough to drown out my own thoughts. I’d let the music carry my heart away from the pain I was experiencing at the time, whether it be physical or emotional. As I’ve gotten older, I still find myself reaching for my iPod or kindle whenever I’m experiencing strong emotions.
A few songs pass before A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope comes on, and I almost turn the kindle off. Along with helping me get through a particularly strong emotion, music also seems to exacerbate them as well. And a song pertaining to the impossibility of being with someone you really want to be with is definitely exacerbating said strong emotions. But instead, I torture myself like some masochist and let the song play, filtering the lyrics through my heart, retaining the relative parts and letting go of the others.
It’s not long before the tears begin to flow freely, dishes forgotten in the sudsy water. I rest my face in my hands. Before the song is finished, a beep from my cellphone pulls me from my pity party. I dry my hands and cross the small space to my bedroom where I left my phone.
There are two texts waiting for me, both from Jacoby.
I want to talk to you today. We didn’t leave things the best last night and I don’t want it to be awkward tomorrow.
Still doing okay? You haven’t responded to my last text and I’m worried.
Jeez, it’s been just over an hour, and he’s already worried. I can’t suppress the little flip my stomach does when reading his text. Hoping to prevent him from just showing up here, I text back: Yes professor. Still holed up at home, safe n sound.
Can I come by to talk? Please.
Awe, he said please. No. We can talk later. I won’t leave tonite so u dont need to worry anymore.
I can’t seem to help it. If you’re going to continue being this stubborn, perhaps tomorrow then.
Sure. Tomorrow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Jacoby
I don’t remember getting home last night. All I know is I woke up in my bed this morning still in yesterday’s clothes. It took all of five seconds to remember that Tatum didn’t come home with me. Then the memories came pouring back in. I haven’t had a weekend that mentally trying since…well, since Harper died.
Hoping to banish the ghosts from my past, I hit up Trey to meet me at the gym. He was already there waiting for me. The dude practically lives there. We blow through our sets without much conversation. I’m pretty sure he’s pissed at me for being a cockblock last night, but he doesn’t understand. I resolved myself during my workout to fill him in on the situation so he stops thinking I’m a douche.
Neither of us says much until after we’re finished. The silence has stretched on long enough, and I’m already feeling drained from the week I’ve had so I broach the subject while we collect our bags from the locker room.
“Hey man, about last night—ˮ, I begin after toeing off my sweaty gym shoes.
“You don’t have to say anything. I was a dick.”
“Tatum isn’t like other girls. I didn’t want to talk about it last night, but I’ve been kind of helping her out,” I tell him, wiping the sweat from my eyes before tossing on my red and black hoody.
“What do you mean? Shit, man, you aren’t seeing her are ya?”
“If I was seeing her, I would have knocked your fucking ass out last night.”
Trey takes a drink from his water and gives me a knowing glance. “But you want to see her.”
“It’s not that simple.” I scrub a hand over my face, still completely exhausted from the night before.
“Why not? It’s obvious she’s into you. I know she only kissed me to get a reaction out of you, which was funny as hell.”
“Fuck you, man, that wasn’t funny,” I reply as we walk out the double doors and into the parking lot.
“So, back to this ‘helping her out.’ What’s the story?” Trey leans a hip against the side of his black SUV. The September air has a slight chill, though I’m warm enough in a hoody, and it feels good to be in the breeze after a tough session at the gym.
I stare at my black and gray gym shoes in my hand. “She’s my student.” I glance up just in time to see Trey’s eyes go wide before he quickly recovers.
“And? There’s gotta be more to the story than that.”
“There is.” Exhaling a deep breath, I continue to tell Trey the story, starting from the beginning. I need to get this off my chest, and Trey is the only true friend I have right now. I trust him more than anyone in my life, so I don’t leave out a single detail. When I’m finished, he hasn’t moved, but his face is colored with fury. He’s holding nothing back.
“Damn. I want to kill that pussy-shit mother fucker.” He cracks his knuckles for emphasis. “She’s such a sweet little thing, no wonder she looked so timid last night.”
“She’s been doing a good job of pretending she’s okay, but man, you should have seen her break down. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Still don’t. We got into it last night, too.”
“Because of my dick move? ‘Cause now I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. But if you ever touch her again, I’ll kick your fucking ass.” Trey grins and just shakes his head. “We got into it because I’m sending mixed signals, and it pissed her off. Pissed me off too. I know the right thing to do, but it’s not what I want to do.”
“You want her, don’t you?” His bright blue eyes hold a touch of sadness. He knows what I’m going to say before I say it, and we both know it can never happen.
“I don’t know what the fuck happened. We spent a few days at each other’s throats. Somehow she buried herself deep beneath my skin, and I haven’t been able to get her out. The more time I spend with her, I realize I don’t want her out. She’s intelligent, witty, beautiful, incredibly strong, and brave. Not to mention she has a great fucking body. But then I come back to reality, and remember I could lose my job.”
“Is she worth it to you?”
“We’ve spent hardly 48 hours together, but from the glimpse I’ve had, I know she’s going to be hard as hell to forget.”
Trey hits the key fob, unlocking his SUV before he opens the door. Turning to me, he says, “If my opinion is of any worth to you, I think you’ve lost and let go of enough in your life already. You’ve spent two years ghosting your way through each day, barely seeing what’s right in front of your face. I think she’s life’s way of saying wake the fuck up. It’s time to move on and let yourself feel again. Harper’s never coming back, and I know you still blame yourself for what happened. Take a fucking chance.”
I sadly shake my head. “I don’t know. If we were to be caught, my career would be over.”
“What’s more important? Your happiness or your job? There are other options out there. You could come work for me,” he says, punching me in the shoulder. “I’ve gotta go, man. Let me know what you figure out, and if you see that little fucker around town again call me. Breaking someone’s face sounds pretty good right about now.”
Laughing, I say goodbye, deciding to catalogue his advice to think about later. He has a point, but I’ve already had to start my life over once in 25 years. If I were to lose my job, I’m not sure I’d be able to move on and do it again. And lose Tatum like I lost Harper. A sharp constriction grips my chest. I’m in deeper than I thought.
After showering at home, I’m surprisingly pleased when I get a text from Tatum. I figured she’d sleep in after the night we had, so I wasn’t too worried I hadn’t heard from her yet, I also wasn’t confident she’d reach out to me at all. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t affect me when I read her text. My stomach clenched in a way it hasn’t for years.
I’ve been thinking nonstop about my conversation with Trey today, and I’ve realized he’s right. I need to move on. I need to stop categorizing my life in Before Harper and After Harper. Her death was the most traumatic thing I’ve ever experienced, but I’m not dead yet. I’m here, and I still have my entire life ahead of me. Life is fucking unfair. Harper was taken too soon, and it was my fault. But if I’m ever going to live my life again, I need to let go of the things I have no control over. No matter how much the guilt festers, it isn’t going to bring her back.
Tatum hasn’t had a smooth sailing introduction to life, and she isn’t letting that hold her back. Even if I don’t deserve this chance, maybe Tatum does. She deserves for someone to make her feel like the most precious thing in this world. Her history certainly doesn’t reflect that thanks to douchebags like Wyatt. And what if he wasn’t the first one to treat her like that? The thought makes me sick. I may not be deserving of her, but I sure wouldn’t mind spending my time trying to make her feel the way she deserves.
After last night, though, I’ll be lucky if she even wants to look at me. I wasn’t nice while telling her how wrong it would be for us to be together. And I know she heard me loud and clear.
***
Monday morning I pop into the local coffee shop to see if Tatum is there again with her friend. I tried my best to leave her alone last night. She made it clear she wouldn’t see me to talk about what happened, but I couldn’t get her off my mind. I’m like a love sick teenager all over again.
My anticipation calms when I spot her sitting in a back booth with that curly blonde friend of hers. Trying to seem inconspicuous, I order a small coffee and sit at the booth in front of theirs. Miraculously, she didn’t see me sit down. I watch the swirling rings of steam rise from my cup while straining my ears to catch a bit of their conversation.
Any excitement I had at seeing her here is quickly extinguished when I hear not my name come up, but Wyatt’s. My mood quickly plunges into dangerously angry territory as Tatum tells her friend about the attack on Friday. But it doesn’t stop there. Shit, this was a stupid idea.
“…he won’t stop calling me now,” Tatum says, exasperated. “I don’t know what else to do. I’ve ignored him all weekend but he won’t stop.”
“Are you going to go to the police?” The little blonde questions, and I pray she can talk some sense into Tatum. That would be the smartest move if he’s not backing down. I might have to take Trey up on his offer to break this kid’s fucking face.
“You know I can’t. After what they put me through when dealing with my mom’s mess, they’re the last people I want to talk to. I’m hoping he’ll take a hint and go away.”
“But what if he doesn’t? What if he comes after you again?”
“I don’t think he will.” Tatum’s voice drops to a whisper, and I lean my head back against the booth to try to hear what she says. It doesn’t matter, because I can’t hear her no matter how hard I try. Whatever she thinks will stop Wyatt, I won’t know unless she tells me herself. Her friends shrill voice screeches out, “TATUM!”, causing me to jump and almost spill steaming hot coffee all over my lap.
“Shh!” Tatum scolds. “Keep it down will you?”
“Aren’t you worried about getting in trouble?”
“No, because I’m trusting you, Em. And if you can keep quiet, it will be fine. I’m not worried.”
Tatum is putting herself unnecessarily in danger and that has me fired up all over again. She can come to me. We can go to the police together. I need to convince her of that. Right now though, I need to get out of here before I do something stupid like confront her publicly and expose our somewhat clandestine tryst to her peers. I grab my coffee and quietly slip out of the booth and out the door. She’ll never know I was here.
“Morning, Tatum,” I call when she walks into my classroom five minutes before the bell. “Early for once, I see.”
“Good morning,” she grumbles, without looking at me. “Mr. Stephenson insisted I try a bit harder, or he’s going to give me another week of this crap. So here I am. What can I help you with?” She stops a few steps from my desk, and I’m struggling to keep my face impassive. I want to grill her about this morning. She’s up to something, and I need to know what it is so I can stop her.
“If you can manage to sit quietly for the class period that will be enough help for me. Thanks.” I’m slapped with guilt as her face drops briefly before she schools it into the snotty mask she wears whenever I see her on school grounds.
“I’d like nothing better,” she grits out through clenched teeth before taking a seat on the stool in the corner. I don’t have time to respond as the warning bell rings and students start filing in. I start class promptly, trying to keep my mind and eyes from wandering over to Tatum. After I’ve reviewed today’s lesson, I assign the homework and take a seat at my desk, finally allowing myself check out what she’s up to. She has her phone under her nose, furiously texting.
“Tatum!” I bark, grabbing her attention and the attention of the entire room. She hops off her stool and stands in front of my desk. “Phone. Now.” I hold out my palm and flinch when she slaps it into my hand with a resounding smack. “I’ve told you to keep it away. You can have it back at the end of the day.” I’m thankful when she doesn’t put up a fight, but also guilty. I lock the device in my top drawer and watch as she climbs back onto the stool, crosses her arms, and stares blankly at the wall. She holds her head and shoulders high, but I notice the way her chin trembles no matter how tight she clenches her jaw. Maybe she needs a little tough love to get her to open up.
Every time her phone buzzes in my drawer, she looks like she’s being electrocuted. I’ve counted 8 times by the end of second period, and I have a hunch it’s not about to stop. As she approaches my desk when the students have left, I know what she’s about to say before she says it, so I cut her off.
“You can go now. I’ll see you during Calculus. You can have your phone back at the end of class.”
“Please Jac—Mr. Ryan. I shouldn’t have been texting but something really important came up.”
“I’ve warned you twice before, and you’re setting a bad example.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” she pleads. “But I really, really need it back.”
“Tatum,” I sigh. “It’s either me or Mr. Stephenson, but you’re not getting it back today. I’m sorry. Be pissed at me, but this is how it is.”
“Oh don’t worry, I am.” She spins on her heel and storms out the door without so much as a backwards glance or a few choice curse words.
I beat back the urge to chase after her as my third period students begin trickling in. This is going to be a long fucking day.
