Her breath stutters. “That’s… That’s not a reason.”
I stare at her as if I can burn my truth into her mind without me having to say the awful words out loud. That I’m an addict. That I’m still walking a tightrope between sobriety and self-hatred.
That she… God help me… She makes me feel something I’m not allowed to feel.
“You don’t want me to elaborate.”
“Try me.”
Fuck. I move closer until she has to tilt her head back to keep our eyes locked.
“Because I can’t look at you without remembering your mouth on mine,” I murmur. “Without thinking about how you’d taste again. Because if you stay in that class, I’m going to want you every time you walk through the door. And wanting you is something I cannot deal with right now.”
Her lips part. Pink. Soft. Tempting. “I’m sorry. I need this class.”
I force myself back a step, then another. “I’ll let you take it as an independent study.”
“No.”
“You’re not listening.”
“You’re trying to bully me out of a required course because we had a one-night stand.” Instant regret flashes in her eyes. “Like I was the biggest mistake of your life.”
I flinch. “You are so far down the list of my mistakes. You don’t know who you’re dealing with. What I’ve been through to get here.”
She softens, and her shoulders slump. “Me too,” shewhispers.
That sparks fire in my blood, and I want to slap myself, falling into the same addict trap. That it’s all about me. Here I go again, ignoring other people’s problems and demons.
“And for what it’s worth, that night…” My voice is rough. “It wasn’t a mistake. At the time. You could never be anyone’s mistake.”
Her throat works, my words affecting her. “I’ll sit in the back,” she whispers. “You teach. I’ll learn. We’ll pretend it never happened.”
Pretend. Christ. I lean on my desk because my legs feel unsteady.
“You don’t understand what’s at stake for me,” I say, gearing up to mention my son.
“My future is at stake,” she fires back. “You’re already a doctor.”
I close my eyes as a beat of silence stretches between us. “Scarlett…”
When I open them again, she’s already backing up toward the door.
“This class is mandatory,” she says quietly. “And I’m staying.”
Then she leaves, and I stand there long after the door shuts. My pulse is a violent, uneven rhythm.
She’s going to ruin me. And the worst part is that the masochist in me will enjoy the pain.
Chapter 17
Scarlett
Idon’t breathe until the door shuts behind me. I sag against the wall in the faculty hallway as air rushes from my lungs.
Holy shit. That was intense. I press a hand to my stomach, trying to hold everything steady.
After a few breaths, I force myself to move. One foot in front of the other.