“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.