I wake up feeling invigorated like never before, even though every muscle in my body, some I didn’t even know existed, is sore. How I got that way makes me blush and those sore muscles I mentioned contract in renewed need to be stretched some more.
A heavy hand is lying across my stomach and the dark hair covering it are tickling my skin. It’s a feeling I am not used to, since I’ve never slept with a man before, or anyone for that matter.
Waking up to someone lying next to me is a new experience, but one I welcome, especially since it is this particular man who is sharing it with me. I feel so grown up, so normal in a way, to be here with him, like this.
I know we only have two more days to enjoy this newfound freedom and then we go back to sneaking forbidden kisses in dark corners, quick little gropes when no one is looking, practically daring someone to discover us and expose our secret.
But I guess that makes it even more hot and exciting. The forbidden aspect to our romance. To our story.
He’s my teacher and I’m his student, even if it is only for one more semester. Then I’m done with high school and after the summer break I start college. But I don’t want to think about that, one, it’s still months away, and two, college is in another city and far away from Adam. Even the thought of having to leave him squeezes my insides in such pain I can barely breathe.
We’ve just begun, I don’t want us to end. Even though realistically speaking I know it will have to. But the truth I keep hidden deep down, the truth I don’t acknowledge even to myself… I’m falling in love with him, hell I stopped falling a long time ago, I’m already there.
Completely, helplessly, head over heels, irrevocably in love with him. And the thought of leaving him breaks me apart. It leaves me shattered at just the mere thought of it. To think in a few months I’ll actually have to do it, I don’t think my mind can handle that. Nor can my body.
I know I have to go to school, to gain an education that will help me later on in life, but the thought of shattering my heart to achieve it leaves me cold and frankly a little resentful.
I’ve finally found a person who understands me, who completes me, but my time with him has already started counting down when we barely begun. I know it sounds cheesy in a romance novel over the top kind of way, but it’s exactly how I feel. Like I’m some character in a book who finds her forbidden love and is holding on with all her might but no matter what she does, no matter how much she prays and hopes he’s slipping between her fingers and before she knows it she has lost him.
I don’t want to lose Adam and I don’t want to be the next Romeo and Juliet, for one, they die in the end, and two, it’s wholly their own stupidity and reckless behavior with a little help from unfortunate circumstances that does them in.
If they’d just thought things through and waited a little, instead of rushing to conclusions within moments of things happening to them, well, they would have been still alive. Then again, it wouldn’t have been a tragic love story that defined and still defines the meaning of a love story and star-crossed lovers centuries after it was written.
But still, I don’t want to end up like them. I want my happy ending, not a tragic one filled with regret and lingering emotion that defines my bitter existence for the rest of my life.
I want to go to college and hold hands with Adam in public without fear of some unforeseen consequences, because people don’t understand what we feel for each other, because they condemn us without really knowing us.
I know he’s older than me, 26 to my 18. That’s an eight year age difference. A lot to some, but to us it’s just a number. If I were 25 and he 33 it wouldn’t be anyone’s business and people would say, “She’s an adult, she knows what she’s doing,” that or they’d call me a gold digger, even though my trust fund is probably bigger than his bank account, but I’m 18 and haven’t finished high school yet and he just happens to be my substitute English teacher.
If people found out now they would say he’s taking advantage of me. That he’s a person of authority influencing an impressionable young girl. He’s famous, a public figure, and it would ruin him. His stellar reputation would be destroyed and that’s the last thing I want.
Especially, if my father finds out about us. He would make it his mission in life to bury him so deep no one would ever find him again.
I will never be the person who harms him. In any way. I would rather suffer alone, missing him without compare than be the one who destroys him.
That’s why I have no qualms about keeping us quiet. I don’t feel used, because he wants to be careful, because he doesn’t want anyone to find out about us. I understand completely.
I don’t feel like his dirty little secret. Taken advantage of.
On the contrary. The dirty little secret is ours. And it’s all the more fun because of it. It makes it more exciting, the thrill of sneaking around, of chasing the hallways and dark corners to not be discovered, and sometimes barely keeping it from being so.
It’s hot.
And the lingering kisses. Forbidden in so many ways.
Thrilling, exciting. Sensual and exhilarating. Electrifying. Blissful agony of a forbidden desire, so sinful it has to be right.
