heat up another slice of pizza? You want any?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He settles on the couch, opening up his laptop with his iPad at his side.
I warm another piece and when it’s done carry the plate over to the couch. Plopping beside him, I turn the T.V. on and put on a movie we’ve seen before for background noise.
“You look tired.” The dark circles beneath his eyes are impossible to miss.
He sighs, glancing at me. “I am. I’ve been up late the past few nights.”
“Why?” I can’t help but ask.
He suppresses a smile. “Writing, actually. Lately I find my muse is more present.”
“Oh?”
“I think it’s because I’m happy.” He clears his throat, almost like he’s embarrassed by this fact.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
He shifts his eyes to me, staring at me down the long, elegant slope of his nose—the kind of nose you see on Roman sculptures. “It is when it’s your eighteen-year-old student making you feel that way.”
“Ah,” I breathe. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”
He chuckles. “I don’t expect you to be.”
“Do you feel guilty? About us?”
“Do you?” He counters with a raised brow, ignoring the script on his screen.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. I don’t see the point in lying.
A weighted sigh rattles his chest. “Me too.”
Setting my plate down on the coffee table I curl my legs under me, resting my left arm on the back of the couch as I turn toward him.
Neither of us says anything for a bated breath and then he speaks. “But not enough to go back to before. To ignoring you. To pretending. As selfish as it makes me, I won’t do that. I can’t do that.”
“It does feel selfish, doesn’t it?”
He sighs, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “Incredibly so.”
“What do we do about that?”
He chuckles, reaching forward to glide the back of his fingers over the side of my cheek. “I don’t think there’s anything we can. Not now at least. Not until…”
Not until I’m no longer his student he means.
I decide to change the subject before this topic of conversation makes either of us feel too bad.
“Do you miss California?”
He ponders my question for a moment. “I miss the warmth and being close to the ocean. Despite the drive to succeed there it’s still very relaxed. But I don’t miss how I felt there after a while. Like I didn’t belong and when Beth died, I felt like an imposter.” Tears shimmer in his eyes. “Life’s funny that way, teaching you lessons you wish you didn’t have to learn. Like how short and fragile life is. I suppose that’s why I’m so willing to risk things for this.” He reaches for my hand, studying the size of my smaller hand against his larger one. “Love is … love is a special kind of magic. It’s unexplainable and fantastic but can also be incredibly painful.”
He twines my hair around his finger. Letting the strand fall he glides his fingertips over my collarbone. A shiver runs down my spine, my eyes falling closed in response to the delicious feeling.
“Look at me.” His breath whispers against my mouth. I blink my eyes open and find him so close that our noses are nearly touching. “There’s my girl.” He places a tender kiss on my lips and pulls away with a tiny smile. “I really do need to get through at least one more script tonight.”
“Sorry for distracting you.” I duck my head sheepishly.
“Don’t be sorry. As soon as I finish this one, I’m yours.”
He picks up his laptop and goes back to his reading. I check my phone and find a text message from Molly that came in fifteen minutes ago.
Molly: Made it to the restaurant and I see Jake’s car. Wish me luck!
Me: You’ve got this, girl. HAVE FUN.
It’s thirty minutes or so before Hayden finishes scouring the script and puts everything aside. “Come here,” he encourages, and I get cozy with my head pillowed on his thigh. “Are you watching this?”
“Not really,” I admit, rolling onto my back to look up at him. I can’t help myself and touch my fingers to his chin, rubbing my fingers against the scruff that will quickly turn to a beard if he doesn’t shave soon. “I kind of just want to talk to you.”
Hayden and I talk a lot, but I still feel like there’s so much to know about him. Sometimes I find myself scared to ask certain things, a mental block in my brain that reminds me we shouldn’t