Blurry: A Student Teacher, Age Gap Romance Read online

  “That’s an elaborate way to say you’re gay.”

  “I know. What can I say? It gets boring after a while.”

  “Are you Brazilian?”

  “One of my mothers is.”

  “Cool. I love Brazil. I’ve been to Rio and Salvador.”

  His eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “Shut up! My mother is from Salvador. You need to come for dinner. She’ll love you. By the way, where are you staying?”

  “At an apartment a block from here. The school helped me out.”

  “Oh, you’re at Brandywine Hall, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A lot of out-of-town students live there. That’s cool. There have been some epic parties in that building. If the walls could talk.” He shakes his head, laughing. “We’d better get started with this tour or we’ll be late for class.”

  Good on his word, at lunch break, Robbie introduces me to a bunch of people. Trying to memorize all their names is impossible though, even when I apply the trick of repeating their names back.

  We grab our food from the cafeteria and then head out to eat at the beautiful park next to the school building. A couple of Robbie’s friends from the drama program are waiting for us under the shade of a big oak tree.

  “How do you like school so far, Chiara?” a freckled guy wearing thick-rimmed glasses asks me.

  “I love it.” I take a bite of my sandwich.

  “Even AP math with Mr. Snoozeville?” The girl sitting next to me raises an eyebrow.

  I laugh. “Even him. He wasn’t that boring.”

  “Only because you’re an ace in the subject,” Robbie replies.

  “What do you have after lunch?” the girl asks.

  “Study hall and then writer’s room elective. I’m really excited about that.”

  “Oh, that’s cool,” the freckled guy pipes up, and then he reaches inside his backpack. “Look what Mom sent, guys.”

  “Brownies!” the girl exclaims excitedly. “Those are the best. Gimme it.”

  He pulls the plastic container away from her greedy hands. “Wait. Chiara first since she’s new here.”

  I shake my head. “Oh, I don’t know. Eating sugar now would probably make me sleepy.”

  “Drink a shot of espresso,” Robbie chimes in. “You need to eat one of these brownies. They melt in your mouth.”

  “All right. Twist my arm, why don’t you?” I grab the smallest piece from the box and then take a bite. “Fudge. This is really good.”

  “Told ya.” Robbie smirks and then grabs a piece too.

  I devour my brownie in three huge bites, regretting going for the smaller piece. But I won’t be a glutton and take another one.

  Ten minutes later, we go back inside. Robbie and his friends head to their respective classes, and I go to the library to get some reading done and check my emails. I forget to buy coffee before, but I feel fine, which is surprising. Maybe I’ll get sleepy later.

  It’s not until I have five minutes left of study hall that I begin to feel strange. I’m light-headed, and the library seems to be spinning out of control.

  What the hell?

  I think it’s time for that coffee after all.

  I pack my things, and when I stand up, I almost fall on my ass. Bracing my hands on the desk, I take deep breaths, waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

  It helps a little, and I manage to walk out of the library without kissing the floor. But once in the hallway, things become worse. I keep seeing everything double. I flatten my back against the wall and text Robbie.

  ME: What the hell were in those brownies?

  ROBBIE: Nothing. Why?

  ME: I’m seeing double, FFS.

  I wait for his response, getting more panicked by the second. Finally, the three dots appear.

  ROBBIE: Harold thinks you might have eaten one of his special brownies by accident.

  Porca miseria!

  I have several choice words that I’d like to yell at Robbie and Harold, but that wouldn’t make me suddenly sober.

  ME: I have writer’s room now. What am I going to do?

  ROBBIE: Wear sunglasses and try to not draw attention to yourself.

  Great. My first day of school and I managed to get high by accident.

  Disaster seems to follow me wherever I go. Fate must hate me.

  At least I know nothing will top that.

  14

  Chiara

  In my current state, it takes double the time to get to writer’s room class, which happens to take place on the other side of the building. Why not make my life more difficult, right?

  When I finally stop in front of my destination, I find the door shut because class has already started. I pull my sunglasses down and take a deep breath, hoping I can walk in without drawing too much attention. I open the door slowly, cringing when the hinges creak loudly. Merda!

  This is an auditorium-style classroom, rather large for high school. This must be a popular class. I hug the wall, striding up the stairs without looking at the front of the room. I spot an empty seat in the last row, and I’m halfway there when the teacher’s booming voice makes me stop in my tracks.

  “I expect all my students to be punctual. Next time you’re late, head straight to the principal’s office.”

  My heart begins to drum madly inside my chest.

  Holy shit. I know that voice.

  No, it can’t be. I must be hallucinating thanks to the magic brownie.

  Pushing my sunglasses up my forehead, I turn slowly.

  I wasn’t imagining things. It’s Alistair. He’s writing something on the whiteboard and turns around a second later. When our gazes connect, I have to lock my knees tight to avoid collapsing to the floor. My legs have turned to jelly. The scruff, the intense gaze, it’s all there, just as I remember.

  Madonna Santa. Alistair is my teacher. And he now knows I’m still in high school.

  I can’t move. I can barely breathe. All I’m able to do is stare at him. His lips are slightly parted as he pins me with his gaze. It’s like time has suddenly stopped. Memories of our time in Italy invade my brain, more vivid than ever. I want to do something, run into his arms, kiss him, but that’s impossible. I spent so many nights wishing he would come back into my life. But not like this. What a cruel joke.

  Somebody clears his throat, snapping me out of my stupor.

  “I’m sorry I’m late. I got lost,” I lie.

  Without waiting for his reply, I continue my track up the steps until I reach the last row and practically collapse on the seat I had been aiming for. My neighbor fidgets next to me, but I don’t look in his direction to ask what his problem is.

  “Please make sure it doesn’t happen again,” Alistair finally replies.

  He returns to business as usual, going on with his lecture as if everything is fine. Maybe to him it is, but fine is the complete opposite of what I’m feeling right now. I’m a mess on steroids. Or maybe it’s just the brownie. But hell, by the end of the class, I have no fucking idea what Alistair said. I’ve missed it all.

  The guy next to me taps his pencil on my desk, and I almost jump. “Shit, you scared me.”

  “Sorry. I just wanted to know if you would like to pair up for next week’s assignment.”

  I stare at him like a moron as if I forgot how to speak. Okay, I’m never touching a fucking brownie again.

  “Sure. Only if you tell me exactly what we’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Having a rough day, huh?” He smirks.

  Fuck. Can he tell I’m high? My face becomes hot from embarrassment. Despite all the rumors about me, I don’t do shit like this.

  “Something like that.”

  He stares at me for a couple of beats without saying anything, making me hella uncomfortable. I’m tempted to put my sunglasses back on my face.

  “So, the assignment?” I press.

  He blinks a couple of times. “Right. It’s simple. Select three scripts of our choice and do a deep analysis.”
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  “Ah, that’s cool,” I say absentmindedly.

  I’m still reeling from the fact that Alistair is the teacher in this semester’s elective class. I picked writer’s room thinking it’d be a fun subject. I couldn’t have foreseen my life was about to become worthy of its own screenplay.

  “I’m Josh, by the way.”

  “Chiara. Nice to meet you.”

  He smiles, revealing small dimples on his cheeks. The pre-Alistair Chiara would have melted on the spot—dimples are my weakness—but it seems Alistair ruined all men for me.

  Pulling his cell phone from his backpack, Josh asks for my number. We make plans to meet the next day to work on our assignment.

  As I head toward the exit with my new partner, I avoid looking at the front of the classroom where Alistair is sitting behind his desk. I’m holding my breath as I approach the man.

  Only a few more steps, Chiara.

  “Miss Moretti, I’d like to have a word with you,” Alistair says, and my heart stops beating for a second, only to kick-start in the next moment with a lurch.

  I should have known I wouldn’t be able to avoid talking to him. But I’m still under the effects of the damn brownie. God. What a mess.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chiara.” Josh continues toward the door.

  I want to beg him to not leave me alone, but that’d be strange as hell. My stomach bottoms out when the door clicks shut and I’m suddenly alone with the man I haven’t been able to forget.

  “Chiara.”

  Alistair’s voice is much gentler now that we’re alone. It almost feels like a caress, and it creates havoc in my body and my mind. Taking a deep breath, I turn. My mouth is dry and my tongue is stuck there while my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.

  “How can I help you, Mr. Walsh?” I force the words out.

  Alistair swallows hard, but he doesn’t move from his spot.

  What did you expect, Chiara? For him to sweep you off your feet? He’s your bloody teacher.

  He opens and shuts his mouth several times before he finally decides on what to say. “How have you been?”

  My jaw drops. Seriously? He’s asking how I am? I thought he was going to yell at me for not telling him I was a teenager. Though to be fair, we agreed to not exchange personal information.

  I don’t answer for several beats until my brain is able to put words together.

  “Honestly, I wish a hole would open in the floor so I could disappear.”

  Alistair’s eyes become pained. “I had no idea, Chiara. If I had known, I wouldn’t have—”

  “Accepted my ride?”

  Fucked me all weekend long back in Italy? I don’t say it out loud, but I know we’re both thinking about it.

  He swallows hard. “Yes.”

  “I never thought I’d see you again. I’m eighteen. Hardly jailbait.”

  He sighs. “What’s done is done. We can’t erase the past, so we just have to find a way to move forward without making things worse.”

  I wince, feeling the rejection deep in my bones. Worse than sleeping with me in Italy, he means. To protect myself, I cross my arms. “How do you propose we do that? Pretend we don’t know each other?”

  “Yes,” he says without hesitation.

  I know he’s right, but it hurts nonetheless to hear him say it in such a cold manner.

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just dropped out of this class?”

  It’s the coward’s way out, but I have to protect my heart at all costs.

  Alistair frowns, and his lips become a thin, flat line. “This is the most popular elective at DuBose. I don’t want you to miss out on something because of me.”

  Dropping my gaze to the floor, I curse under my breath. He’s right. I was looking forward to this class before I knew he’d be teaching it.

  “Listen, you don’t have to worry about my impartiality. I’ll treat you the same way as I treat all my other students. I can separate things,” he continues.

  I nod without meeting his eyes. “Okay.”

  “Chiara, look at me.”

  No, I don’t want to look at you because it’s so damn hard. But I do as he asks, lifting my chin and staring at him in defiance to hide how much this is hurting me.

  “What?”

  “Are you working with Josh on the assignment?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Alistair seems mad, and I have no idea why. Is he jealous?

  Don’t go there, Chiara.

  “I just want to make sure you have a partner. I expect my students to be dedicated. This class requires you to spend at least two hours per week reading extra material and doing research. I want you to keep that in mind.”

  “I read the description when I signed up for the class. I know what I’m in for, or at least I knew. The teacher’s last name wasn’t Walsh though.”

  A muscle in Alistair’s jaw tics. “It was a last-minute change. They probably forgot to update the registration portal.”

  My phone pings with an incoming text message. I glance at the screen and see it’s from Robbie.

  ROBBIE: Where the hell are you? Are you still alive?

  Suddenly, a bubble of laughter goes up my throat. His question seems hilarious considering the new situation I’m in.

  “It’s rude to check messages while in the middle of a conversation with someone,” Alistair retorts, and that only makes me laugh harder.

  Damn it. I have the giggles.

  “I’m sorry. But you have to admit, laughing is better than crying.”

  He frowns. “Chiara….”

  “Don’t. I’m fine with this. Totally, one-hundred-percent fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. As a matter of fact, you look—”

  “High as a kite?”

  His eyebrows arch. “You’re joking, right?”

  I start laughing again. “Not on purpose. Oh God. I can’t stay here and talk about this with you. You’re my teacher!”

  His blue eyes become stormy. Alistair is suddenly angry, and shit, if that isn’t a turn-on.

  Wait? What? I can’t allow this to happen.

  “You got high on your first day of school?” His voice rises.

  “It was an accident, okay? I didn’t know the brownie I ate at lunch was the special kind.”

  I realize I’m almost shouting, which seems to irritate Alistair more. In the back of my mind, I know I’m making a spectacle out of myself. If he didn’t have regrets about hooking up with a high school student, he does now.

  “Chiara, settle down. If school administration finds out you’re stoned, you could be expelled.”

  “For real?”

  He rubs his face. “You need to go home. Where are you staying?”

  “At Brandywine Hall.”

  My phone buzzes again with another message from Robbie. He’s coming this way. I can’t let him see me with Alistair. He might be able to guess I had a summer fling with him. I don’t trust myself to keep a straight face right now.

  “I can take you.”

  I’d be tempted to accept his offer if only to spend a few more minutes alone with him. But his tone implies the task would be a chore for him.

  “No need. My friends are coming.”

  I try to appear calm and collected as I walk out of the classroom, but I’m screaming inside. Alistair, the man who left a permanent imprint on my heart, is here, in the flesh, so close and yet unreachable.

  How am I going to survive the semester?

  15

  Alistair

  I turn my cell phone off because I can’t deal with anyone right now. I’m probably giving Enzo, my lawyer, premature gray hair. I’m sure he’s going to mention it the next time he sees me.

  This is a cosmic joke of epic proportions. Chiara showing up in my class, high out of her mind, was the worst thing that could have happened to me. It opened old wounds. It reminded me of when I was her age and utterly lost. I was torn between yelling at her for doing something so reckle
ss and kissing her because I’ve missed her so damn much.

  I can’t help but notice the irony. I’m teaching screenplay writing while my own life just became a fucking soap opera. I’m a walking cliché. I have a soul-sucking villainesque ex-wife, and I’m crushing on a student. It was a miracle I was able to get through the class without making a fool of myself in front of my students.

  I’m looking forward to a quiet evening in front of the TV as I head home, but it seems that isn’t going to happen today. Nadine’s car is parked in front of my condo.

  Fuck me.

  My jaw is locked tight as I park my truck in the designated spot. Without looking in her car’s direction, I stride to my front door, body coiled with tension. But I know it won’t matter how fast I walk.

  Sure as shit, as soon as I hit the pavement, I hear her car door open and she calls my name.

  I ignore her.

  She catches me right before I open the front door, grabbing my arm. “Alistair, for fuck’s sake, stop! I need to talk to you.”

  I glance at her hand on my arm, then level her with a glare. She swallows hard, releasing me and taking a step back for good measure. Her brown eyes are wide as she tries to portray deep sorrow. But I can see through her bullshit now. There isn’t an ounce of regret in her soul. She’s always been about the money and influence, things I still have despite not working as an actor anymore. Too bad I was just too blind to see before.

  “I have nothing to say to you. I’ll only deal with you through my lawyer.”

  “Please, Alistair. Let’s not do this. Why can’t you let bygones be bygones?”

  “Are you serious? You fucked my friend in our bed, and you want me to simply forgive you?”

  “I made a mistake. Showbiz was kicking my ass, and I was lonely. You were never there for me.”

  “Don’t you dare pin your betrayal on me.”

  She sighs loudly and amps up the remorseful expression on her face. “I want us to reach an agreement. I’m broke, Alistair. I haven’t worked on anything in months, and if I don’t pay my rent, I’ll be out on the street.”