Learning to Fall (20 page)

Looking at me as though I’d slapped him, Daniel stepped back and crossed his arms. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on, Imogen. I don’t do girl language and I don’t do games,” he said in a low, hard voice. “If you have a problem with me, use your words and I’ll try to understand, but don’t push me away like that again.”

I was trying. Couldn’t he see I was trying? If this had happened five months ago I would have already dissolved into a level one anxiety attack. The fact that I wasn’t breathing into a paper bag was a testament to how far I’d come.

But it still wasn’t far enough.

“I - I can’t…I’m trying, but I-I don’t know what to say or how - how to say it.” I broke off on a sharp intake of breath as tears stung the corners of my eyes and perspiration broke out on my temple. I felt dizzy, and it was too hot in the hallway. Suffocatingly hot, as though all the good air had been sucked out leaving only stale, musty, warm air behind.

“Imogen.” Compassion dimmed the angry gleam in Daniel’s eyes. He started to reach for me, but hesitated inches shy of taking my hand. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”

Even now, even after I’d told him not to say my name and I’d dragged him out here and I’d shoved him away, his very first thought, his first concern, was for me. 

Was it any wonder I’d fallen in love with him?

Inside my chest, my heart gave an extra hard
thump
.

I couldn’t be in love with Daniel. Not anymore. Not when I knew the truth. Not when I knew I was his teacher…and he was my student. 

I wasn’t naive. I knew some teachers - perhaps even some at Stonewall, though I doubted it - had relationships with their students. Close relationships. Intimate relationships. Relationships that went far beyond the bounds of what was morally acceptable. But that didn’t make them right. It didn’t make
Daniel
and I right. I may have been trying to live a new life in the shades of grey that existed between black and white, but there was no grey here. There was only right, and there was only wrong. And loving Daniel was wrong.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered miserably. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Imogen.” As the first flicker of genuine alarm passed over his face, Daniel cupped my cheek. His skin was warm. His touch blissfully familiar and I knew I should have stepped back, but I selfishly allowed myself this one last moment of contact before I gathered the courage to say what had to be - what
needed
to be - said. Before I broke my own heart. Before I lost the one man I had ever truly loved.

“I’m not acting this way because I’m taking the same class as you, Daniel.” Tears threatened to spill over my lashes. Struggling to keep them at bay, I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’m acting this way because I’m teaching it.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Decisions

“And?” Daniel’s mouth curved, as though I’d just told him something slightly amusing instead of admitting to being a liar. Which I was. A horrible one. If I’d told him the truth in the very beginning - that I was a professor instead of a soccer coach - we wouldn’t be in this mess, because we never would have seen each other again after we met at the bar.

Daniel never would have taken me out to Poppy’s. Never would have walked Whitney and I home from Swordfish. Never would have cooked us breakfast. Never would have kissed me under the warm morning sun. Never would have taken me out for ice cream. Never would have carried me to his bed and made me cry out in ecstasy. Never would have played with me in the snow. Never would have wished me good night over, and over, and over again…

I liked to think that if I had the power to go back and change things, I would stop what we started before it ever began. But standing here, staring at Daniel, I knew the truth. The cold, hard, terrifying truth.

I wouldn’t change a single second.

But I also couldn’t allow the past to dictate the future. 

“And…” Now it was my turn to look confused. What else did Daniel want me to say? What else was there
to
say? I was his teacher. He was my student. Because of a single lie I’d told months ago we were both going to suffer and any relationship between us outside of the classroom was now completely taboo.

As I began to realize the myriad of consequences that accompanied my actions - the largest of which was causing Daniel pain - guilt settled heavily on my shoulders, followed by something I hadn’t had any reason to feel before now. Something that tasted sour in the back of my mouth. Something that made my stomach twist and tighten.

Shame.

By not telling Daniel the truth, I’d put both of us in an impossible situation I could see no easy way out of. Anger, purely self-directed, caused the tears in my eyes to dry up and my hands to clench into hard fists at my sides.
Why
hadn’t I told him what I really did when we first met? It seemed so stupid now that I hadn’t. But at the time…at the time it almost felt like I had no choice. Because I had wanted to be someone I wasn’t. Because I had wanted to seem exciting and fun and adventurous. Because I had wanted the hot guy to like me. And now that he did, now that he
more
than liked me, I had to take it all back.

Even Shakespeare would have been impressed with irony.

“I can see you're upset,” Daniel began as he brushed a lock of hair behind my shoulder. “But you shouldn’t be. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

My eyes widened.

“NOT A BIG…” Realizing I’d only been two octaves shy of a shout, I regained control of my voice and hissed, “
Not a big deal
? Daniel, it is a
very
big deal. This is serious. Really serious,” I emphasized when he merely grinned and looked at me the way he did sometimes when he thought I was saying something cute or adorable. “This isn’t a joke.”

“Maybe not,” he acknowledged, “but you have to admit it’s a
little
funny.”

Funny? I didn’t see anything
funny
about it.

“Daniel…”   

“I better get to class.” He checked the time on his cell phone. “Don’t want to be late and it’s already five minutes past six.” Before I could stop him, he leaned in and kissed me. “I heard the professor can be a real hard ass.”

I gritted my teeth. “Daniel, you should really take this-”

But he was already gone.

* * * * *

Somehow I made it through my class without blurting out ‘
I’m sleeping with that student right there, the one sitting three rows down on the right hand side. Yes, that one. Daniel. Daniel Logan’
. It was a small miracle, given that every time I happened to even
glance
in his direction I completely lost my train of thought and my cheeks turned bright pink.

If any of the students found my behavior odd they didn’t say anything, and the second my lecture was over I grabbed up all of belongings and bolted out the door. The second cold, crisp night air touched my warm, sweaty skin I sighed with relief and leaned back against the building, using the worn brick to support my pounding head and shoulders that ached from the tension I’d been carrying for the past three hours straight.

No matter what Daniel thought to the contrary, the situation we found ourselves in was nothing short of a complete and utter disaster. The easiest - and simplest - solution would be to just give my night class to another professor. Except I couldn’t. Not unless I wanted it to seem as though I was unable to handle my assigned workload. And I couldn’t ask Daniel to transfer to another creative writing class because there
wasn’t
another creative writing class. At least not until next spring.

Suddenly the idea of a small college didn’t seem quite so appealing as it had three hours ago.

Daniel was half right,
I thought silently as I lifted my head off the wall only to let it fall back again with a dull
thunk
. Our situation
would
have been funny…if it wasn’t so awful. And here I’d been thinking the biggest hurdle still standing in our way were my own insecurities.
Way to set yourself up for failure on that one, Imogen.
Unless…unless it didn’t have to be
all
bad.

Maybe it was a sign. A sign that Daniel and I weren’t meant to be together. A sign that he wasn’t the right man for me. After all, he didn’t fill any of my prerequisites. He hadn’t graduated from an ivy league school. He didn’t have a 401k. He worked at a bar, for God sakes, and - something that would have been helpful to know five months ago - he was still a part time college student. All things considered, I shouldn’t have even been attracted to him, let alone more than halfway in love.

But if there was one thing I’d learned from falling for Daniel, it was that sometimes the most unexpected things in life yielded the greatest results. And just because Daniel wasn’t the perfect man I’d imagined didn’t change the fact that he was perfect for me.

Stop thinking like that
, I ordered myself.
You can’t be with him. Not anymore.

Tilting my head back, I stared up at the cold, clear night sky and bleakly wondered how the hell I was supposed to get through the next six months.

The door slammed open. I flinched, but the students piling out of the building didn’t give me a second glance as they walked past, already back on their phones and too self-absorbed to notice a professor slumped over in the shadows with a blue knit cap pulled low over her forehead. Some of them I recognized from Creative Writing and others I didn’t, which meant the other night classes must have let out as well.

I took one deep breath, held it for a count of five, and exhaled for a count of six, just like my therapist had taught me. The exercise helped calm my anxiety as it spiked over the knowledge that within a few seconds I would see Daniel again.

Damnit. Why was I skulking in the bushes? Why hadn’t I gone to my car? What was I
thinking
?

The answer - obviously - was that I wasn’t.

At all.

The instant I saw Daniel in my classroom I’d lost all sense of reason, and I had no idea when I would get it back again.

He was one of the last to exit Harbinger Hall. Walking swiftly, he took two steps past me. I held my breath, truly not knowing if I wanted him to keep going or to turn around. As if he could somehow sense my presence he stopped, turned, and looked directly at me.

“Are you hiding?” he asked, his grey eyes cool and unreadable as they swept me up and down.   

“No,” I said, even though that’s
exactly
what I was doing. “I’m just…thinking.”

“About me?” Shadows fell across his countenance as he stepped off the path and came up to stand toe to toe, forcing me to tip my chin up in order to meet his gaze. Even though his body helped block the wind I still stepped to the side, afraid of what someone would think if they saw us so close together. Daniel’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “So you can see me. I was starting to think I might have turned invisible the way you were ignoring me in class.”

He thought I’d been ignoring him? I had never been more aware of him in my entire life.

“You know why I couldn’t look at you,” I whispered.

“Why?” he challenged.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

Was he really going to make me say it? “Of having you look at me exactly like you are right now.”

His smile faded even as his eyes took on a bright, wolfish gleam. After a quick glance over his shoulder he shifted closer and braced both palms flat against the brick, trapping me. “I missed you, little fox. I missed the sight of your face. The sound of your voice. The taste of your-”

“
Stop
!” I hissed as his words sent a surge of desire licking through my body and I had to fight the urge to rub my thighs together. “We - we can’t do this here.” I looked at the door. No one else had come out since Daniel, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone still inside. Someone waiting. Watching. Wondering.

His breath warmed the side of my neck as he bent his head and whispered huskily into my ear, “Where can we do it?”

“
Daniel
.” 

“Imogen.” He leaned back, but only slightly. “I forgot how much I like making you blush.”

“I’m not blushing!”
Lie
. My entire face felt red as a tomato. “And you know what I meant. We shouldn’t
talk
about this here.” At least not if I wanted to keep what little self-control I had left. After being away from Daniel for so long, being forced to look at him but not being allowed to touch was nothing short of pure torture.

Sweet, exquisite,
excruciating
torture.

I shook my head to clear it.
Be practical
, I told myself.
Be logical. WWOID?

What would the old Imogen do.

“We can’t talk here,” I said, more firmly than I had before. “It’s inappropriate. At a time and a place that is convenient and suitable for both of us, we can-”

“No,” he said, cutting me off.

“But you haven’t even heard-”

“I don’t need to. Whatever you were about to say, I don’t want to hear it.” His jaw tightened, revealing the tension he’d kept hidden from me. “I know what you’re thinking, Imogen. What you’re feeling. And you’re wrong.”

How could he know what I was feeling when I didn’t even know myself?

“I - I have to go. I’m sorry.” Bending down, I picked up my computer bag and hooked the strap over my shoulder before I hurriedly brushed past him. He didn’t try to stop me. Shoulders hunched beneath my thick wool coat I walked faster than was safe on the icy path as I instinctively tried to put as much distance between Daniel and I as possible. If I could make it to the parking lot without looking back, I had a chance. A chance to make the right choice. A chance to do what needed to be done. What
had
to be done, whether I wanted to do it or not.

“You know what the only bad thing about running from your problems is?” Daniel called out, his voice carrying easily on the wind.

Keep going. Keep going. Keep going!

I stopped.

In the middle of the walkway with the cold air seeping into my bones and little flakes of snow slithering down into my boots, I stopped dead in my tracks.

When I heard him approach I didn’t look back, but I didn’t go forward either. I remained trapped in a place of indecision. A place where black and white weren’t easy to distinguish and what I wanted didn’t equal what I needed.

Daniel’s arm brushed mine as he came to a halt directly beside me. We both stared straight ahead, as though that made a difference. As though by not looking at one another we could somehow deny the inevitable. Except we couldn’t. Not now. Not after he’d come after me and I’d stopped walking.

“What’s that?” I asked softly, my voice no more than the faintest, softest of whispers.

He touched my hand, seeking and finding the tiny gaps between my fingers. Our palms interlocked. His skin was warm, mine was cold. His grip was strong, mine was tentative. But despite the differences we held fast to one another nevertheless, neither one of us wanting to be the first to let go.  

“You always end up back where you started.”