“Hey, what’s wrong?” Elijah nuzzles my neck, breaking the strange silence that fell over us.
I don’t want to tell him my worries or how he seemed distant this last couple of days. I don’t want to be that girl who gets attached to the first guy who shows her attention and mistakes the fun with love and promises. Elijah didn’t promise me anything. He didn’t tell me he loved me. I feel like he loves me by everything he does, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. Maybe I’m just a hookup in this new town for him. He’ll go to Seattle and forget me.
I bit my cheek, just thinking that the end of the semester will be the end of us hurts me.
But instead of telling him that, I murmur, “I don’t want to go to prom.”
He chuckles. “Babe, we’ve been talking about that for the last two weeks.”
“Yes, but it was easier to let you convince me when there are still weeks to that night. Now, it’s all real. I don’t want to spend my night in the prom with people who hate me.”
He hugs me and kisses right under my ear. "It's in a few days, and you should go. You'll regret you didn't years later."
“I wish you could’ve come with me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything. The distance I feel lately shows itself again. He only caresses my hair and kisses my temple. That’s the answer enough.
He's my teacher, and I'm his student. No matter the semester is almost over.
Taking a deep breath, I get out of the bed, and he doesn't stop me. I almost start to cry when he doesn't follow me into the bathroom like he always does. It feels like we've already begun to say goodbye to the short bliss I had in my life.
With the lump in my throat, I take a shower longer than necessary to warm my suddenly chilly limbs. When I finally get out of the shower, the guesthouse is empty. Elijah is nowhere to be seen, and there is a piece of paper in the bed where we just had sex.
I have a few errands to run. I’ll try to be back before you leave for the prom, but if I can’t have fun.
I swallow. Damn. Now I feel like crying.
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath.
I'm ridiculous.
Mr. John must be calling for me because of something I’ve done again. The only problem is, I don’t know what I’ve done this time. Since Elijah and I got close, I haven’t been thinking about my parents’ lack of existence in my life. Elijah filled every emptiness in my heart, I didn’t feel the pain and loss as much.
Finally, I get the courage to knock Mr. John’s door.
"Come in." I hear him say from the other side of the door.
I enter, but why do I feel trapped when I close the door behind me?
"You wanted me, Mr. John," I murmur, forcing my feet to move toward the chair in front of his desk.
"Yes, Evangeline. I wanted you," he says slowly. Every word comes out like a drawl. Is he drunk?
“Guys your age don’t cut it for you, Eva?” he asks. His voice is laced with malice.
I swallow. “Pardon?”
He chuckles and walks around his desk. I expect him to sit the armchair in front of me, but instead, he comes toward me.
Leaning over my chair, he cages me. “You like older guys, don’t you? Maybe the ones who have some authority over you?”
I cringe with the alcohol stench in his breathe. I’m paralyzed with fear.
But the moment his hand touches my knee, I snap. Pushing him off me, I stand up. My legs are weak, my hands are shaking with fear.
Just when I’m about to head for the door, he grabs me by my hair and pulls me back to his chest.
“You bitch. You’re a cock tease. A slut. You wanted to be fucked, didn’t you? All those non-existent clothes you were wearing… and you got your wish, right? You seduced that boy, Richards. You let him fuck you like a whore, don’t you Eva?”