~Sia (and I guess it's really that weird guy David Guetta's song featuring Sia but whatever), Titanium {I know it's mainstream but it's been stuck in my head and I like it.}


GUYS I SAW MAGIC MIKE.... And it's nearly 3 AM... So my apologies if this story sucks.

“Wow. I didn’t expect it to be so… big.”

He smirked. “And what did you expect?”

“I don’t know…” I said softly as he closed the french doors behind us, walking slowly into the high-ceilinged foyer. “I mean, on a teacher’s salary…”

“Professor’s,” he corrected, his hand rubbing over my shoulder. I felt a warm tingle rise to my cheeks as I moved into the den area, decorated like a magazine. The room was coated in professionally done pictures, and I came to one of a blonde woman with a big jaw and a cheesy smile. He sat next to her, grinning too, and I felt uncomfortable, like I didn’t belong. I glanced back at him, tugging at the hem of my too-short and too-lacy skirt. “Is this… her?”

“Amanda’s a chiropractor,” he told me, answering two questions in one. I’d heard him say her name before, maybe twice, but now I knew where all his money came from. Where this house came from. My heart skipped a beat as he began to kiss my neck, his lips to my ear when I turned around, pausing him.

She was staring at us.

“She’s in Boston,” he assured me, his turquoise blue eyes serious as he took a step away from me, backing toward the staircase. I followed him, losing my shoes and my top and my purse somewhere between the middle of the staircase and the master bedroom. He tripped me backward toward the silky gold duvet covering his fancy four-poster bed, and I giggled when his breath tickled my stomach. He pressed his lips down farther, and I gripped his head, bringing it back up to mine. 

“So that assignment from last week…” I whispered, trying to concentrate on my words and not on his touch. “I never got around to doing it.”

He smiled with a glint in his eye, trailing back down to my hips, kissing my skin. “No, I think you got a ninety-eight on that,” he said between kisses, his fingers grazing the waistband of my skirt. 

“Ninety-eight?” I questioned, pouting a little. He looked back up to my face, shaking his head. 

“You know how to make it a hundred,” he replied, his eyes flickering over the parts of my body still unexposed. 

“Extra credit?” I pressed, scooting back toward the pillows, my head falling into the down-filled cases, my hair splaying out in all directions. He ran a finger through it, his lips back on my neck.

He turned to whisper to me, hot breath making my ears turn pink. “You know I only give extra credit to /very/ deserving students, /Rhyanne/.” I could feel him snicker at calling me Rhyanne. Everyone in class called me Rhyanne. But he called me Rhy, like he’d known me all my life and was allowed to call me that. I let him. He could call me anything. I liked to call him Derek, not Mr. Hanson or Professor or Yo Teacher. 

“Make me deserve it,” I told him. “/Professor/.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

6 JULY 2012 [FRIDAY] 
time: after sunset 
location: the beach
attire: bring out your warmer layers 
event: What would a summer be without a clambake? Just like our parents used to make for us, we’re starting our own traditions and having our first clambake tonight on the beach.

I checked my calendar. It had been exactly 312 days since I’d last seen Derek. Since he’d told me we “can’t do this anymore” and “Amanda is pregnant” and “you’re beautiful” and “but I could get arrested” and “I mean, it’s been three years, what did you think this would last forever?” and finally “I’m sorry kid”, the last in a desperate attempt to stop me from crying. He had called me “kid”. Like I was just one of his freaking students. I had never been just one of his students. He had called me Rhy. He had taken me out on numerous dates, all in secret, but they were dates nonetheless. And he’d kissed me like I wasn’t just a one-night-stand. And I wasn’t. Because it happened more than once. Oh God, more than a thousand times. And he knew it. He had wanted me, every single freaking time. He had told me he loved me. He had told me that he was going to divorce Amanda. He had told me that when I graduated, it would be just be me and him, and it would be really okay. 

He was a liar.

He was a coward.

He was wrong, too. About getting arrested. He wouldn’t have. We had always been careful. We had never gotten even close to caught. And if he really loved me, he wouldn’t have cared. But he did love me. He did. He loved me more than anyone in the world and I loved him. And then he left.

And then I found some pretty knives in Connor’s kitchen drawers, and I found some lonely Norah Jones music and a stereo, and I filled the bathtub to the top, and I stripped myself of the clothes he used to remove himself. And I took the knives and tried to scrape him away from me. And the water made me feel like I was really floating away, from him and everyone else, and the blood swirled around me like a picture frame around a sad portrait. It had all been going perfectly until I woke up alive.

“Annie!” Josh’s voice called from somewhere fairly close. I squeezed my eyes closed tighter, trying to block out everything. “Annie, get your a-s out here!”

Josh was hard to ignore.

“Coming,” I mumbled to no one since he obviously couldn’t hear me. 

I found him outside my bedroom, sitting on the old bench at the end of the hallway, near the window we all used to look out of when we were spying on someone coming home late or making out in the driveway. Now the window looked too small and too precarious to do that. I stared at it, not meeting his eyes.

“What have you been doing? The clambake’s starting,” he told me, standing up. “And unless you’ve completely lost your mind, you used to be in love with a good ole clambake.”

“I was never in love with anything,” I admonished quickly.

“Sure.” He smirked.

I breathed a sigh, following him down the stairs. “Is everyone already out there?”

“Yeah, they’re waiting for us,” he replied, hopping off the last stair like he always did, landing with a small thud on the old wood floor, messing up the rug. I fixed it with my toe, catching the screen door before it closed after him.

When we got down to the beach, I realized that no one was waiting for us, no one was even paying attention to us, no one even noticed us. I felt my shoulders droop forward, unable to roll back like they used to and walk straight into the middle of it all. I didn’t do that anymore. People stared enough as it was. 

“Well, /I/ was waiting for you,” Josh finally admitted, peeking over at me as I stood there, surveying the food and drinks and people.

“Thanks,” I said, allowing myself to smile, a small one. 

“No problem.” He knocked his shoulder into mine playfully, rocking on the balls of his feet. I glanced over at him, and thought about how maybe I had been wasting too many days not forgetting Derek and not enough remembering Josh.

[COMMENT IF YOU READ PLEASE <3 Btw Professor Derek Hanson is supposed to look like Bradley Cooper! Tagging the girls: @emmylou @withlove-kirsten @vicks @nifty-nikki @rockets-and-rainbows @turn-around-bright-eyes @inglenooks]
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