had this knowing expression on his face, like he could see so much more in me than I could see in myself, all from a silly argument about the last response I’d handed in about the reading.
I pressed on, “Whatever the hell time it was, it was close enough that clearly even Shakespeare thought people could tell their parents to go to hell and do what they wanted.”
He smiled. “That’s a fair argument.”
“So you admit you were wrong?”
“I was perhaps presumptuous in assuming you hadn’t considered Ophelia outside of your personal feelings about her situation, and maybe if you’d expanded upon your thoughts a little more, I would have seen that.” He must’ve realized his answer hadn’t quite satisfied me yet because he went on. “But yeah. I was wrong, Kyle. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m trying to remember the last time I heard a teacher tell me they were wrong about something.”
“Now you’re being overdramatic.”
“No. Obviously it’s happened, but it’s just…very rare.”
And sobering.
“So now I get two extra points on that assignment, right?”
“You got an A just for showing you read the play. But now maybe I’ll consider docking points for being accosted about it over coffee.”
“Oh, hell no.”
“I’m kidding. Kidding, Kyle. I would never treat you differently than I would any of your classmates.”
He said the words with such conviction, but I couldn’t help thinking about how close we’d become. Even this conversation was only making me like him that much more.
“And yet, I’m not any of my classmates, am I?”
He reflected on his words. “That’s not what I meant. I was saying I would never grade you unfairly. That talking and joking outside of class don’t factor in.”
I fucking knew that was what he’d meant. Of course it was.
It wasn’t his intent that had really bothered me, though, but rather that it so clearly articulated what I was to him. I was just a kid he had a few weird encounters with at the start, who volunteered with him and came to extra-credit events.
Which I did mostly because I wanted to spend a little more time with him. And that, in turn, made me think of Ben getting hung up on guys. There I was, talking about his fucking teaching dreams, my life with Tex, caring about hearing more about his brother… And for what? No matter what we did, even sitting in the coffee shop together, we couldn’t really be friends. I couldn’t ever talk to him like I did with Taryn or Ben. I’d only ever be his student.
If Ben had done this with a guy, I would have told him to ditch him. Not worth his time. Yet there I was, doing who knew fucking what with James.
“You good?” he asked, noticing I’d spaced.
“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about the homework I need to get done tonight.”
“Well, guess you’re in luck that author didn’t show.” He checked his phone. “Yeah, it’s only seven forty.”
He didn’t give a shit about spending more time with me, then.
God, what a fucking idiot I was.
14
James
It must’ve been quite a bit of homework he’d forgotten, considering how quickly he’d left the bookstore. Strange, since he’d made a point about how he was never the best about that. But maybe there was another class he was focusing in the way he did in mine.
Regardless of why he’d needed to leave, the chat was nice.
More than nice.
And it wasn’t just about what we’d discussed. No, it was more than that. Something about Kyle seemed different to me.
Kyle Forsythe was an attractive guy—that was something I’d known since he’d helped me out of that puddle. From the moment I saw him, it was as though he’d replaced my very notion of what a magazine model looked like.
Those full lips that always pleased me most when they spread out into a smile. The stubble outlining his sharp jawline after a few days of neglecting to shave. Every muscle accentuating his body just right whenever he’d toss off his shirt during the build.
I never had an issue acknowledging a hot guy when I saw one, but it felt different with him, and not only because he was my student. I couldn’t put my finger on it.
The following day, I found myself waiting for fourth period. I would catch myself eyeing his chair, imagining he would be there later. Thinking about that friendly smile he’d give me before taking his seat.
Kyle wasn’t a friend, couldn’t be a friend, but there was