Breaking Noah (5 page)

“I’m serious, Zara. I can be your friend and your teacher.”

I hold back a snort. Does he even realize how bad that sounds? “I don’t even know what friends do, it’s been so long since I had one.” As the thoughts of Karly creep to the forefront of my memories, I shove them back down. Granted, she’s the reason I’m pursuing this in the first place; I need to foster the anger and push aside the sadness. It’s the only way I can make this work.

“We’ll start off easy,” he jokes. “What are you reading?”

Time to amp it up a little, get him outside his comfort zone.

“Right now, nothing, but earlier I was falling in love with Christian. There’s just something about the older, dominant man and the younger, naïve woman. And let’s not forget the mind-blowing intimate scenes. Have you read it, Mr. Bain?”

I can almost picture him—his Adam’s apple bobbing with his shocked gulp as he’s trying to swallow down what he really wants to say and let only the words that he should say come out of his mouth.

“Mr. Bain, are you there? Did I lose you?” I ask, already knowing that he’s still on the other end of the line…he’s breathing far too loudly for our phones to have been disconnected.

“I’m here,” he grumbles. “I didn’t know you were into those types of books. You caught me off guard.”
I already knew that. It was kind of my plan.

“So you know what book I was talking about.” I giggle. “Anyway, I read all kinds of books. Sometimes when I’m just coming off a classic like what we were reading in class, I like to switch it up. Keeps me from getting bored.” I pause and bite my lip, wondering what he’s thinking right now. Is he imagining me handcuffed to a bed? Hands bound with a tie? My ass bright pink with the clear impression of his hand on my cheeks?
Fuck, now I’m working myself up.

“I kept seeing that book all over the place and I know it’s also going to be a movie. I was curious to see what all the hype is about. Not the greatest thing ever, but it kept me interested. And the actual story—I mean, the sex was great—some places had me all ‘wow.’ But the story behind it is what blew me away. It was amazing. And it’s worth reading just for the elevator scene.” I laugh.

“That’s…interesting.” His voice has a tremble to it, and I can faintly hear him as he swallows.

There’s no greater feeling than rendering him speechless. I ponder digging in a little more—weighing the pros and cons in my head—and conclude it’s now or never. I have to test the waters.

“Have you ever had great sex like that, Mr. Bain? I feel like I’m missing out. When I’m with Dillon, it isn’t terrible, but it feels like I’m missing something important.” I grin, my hand flying to my mouth. I cannot believe I’m saying this. “Like there’s supposed to be this earth-shattering moment that makes you forget about everything else and focus only on the present. I don’t get anything remotely close to that with him. I don’t even think he’s made me orgasm. Not without the help of my fingers, anyway.” I giggle again and wait for his response.

“Zara,” he breathes, trying to stop me. I wonder if he’s hard thinking of me coming using my fingers. I can’t lie and say that I’m not a little aroused right now, too.

“You did say we were friends, right? This is the kind of thing I would assume that friends talk about. Still want to be my friend, Mr. Bain?” I’ve never heard this octave of my voice before—deep, seductive, and packed full of flirtation I’m sure he’s picking up on.

He doesn’t respond, but I can still hear his fast-paced breathing, just like before. I’m starting to feel sorry for the guy. Or maybe I’m feeling powerful. Like I have the ability to mess with his train of thought this badly. It’s an extremely empowering feeling.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bain. I’ll let you go. I didn’t mean to take up all of your time. Have a good night.”

“Zara, wait.” He cuts in. “We don’t have to get off the phone. You caught me off guard is all. I’m honestly not sure what to say. I’m not in the habit of discussing erotic novels with my friends,” he says. “And I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea about our relationship.”

“I don’t want to get you in any trouble,” I fib. “It’s just hard, you know? Not having anyone to talk to. I mean, I could talk to Dillon, but he’d just get really defensive and go out again, which would leave me in the same situation I’m in now…alone. Maybe I should just go back home. Things aren’t working out how I imagined.”

To be honest, they’re not exactly going to plan…they’re going much better.

Men are so easy to manipulate. Play around with the damsel-in-distress act long enough and they become putty in your hands. Just like this.

In three…two…one.

“It would be a shame if you left, Zara,” he says hurriedly. “You’re a very nice girl, one of my top students. I really do want to be your friend. Let me see if I can answer your question without overstepping the line. As long as we’re honest friends, this shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I promise, Mr. Bain. I just need someone to talk to—to figure out what I’m doing wrong. I moved here because Dillon wanted to take our relationship to the next level, and I thought it was the right thing. I just don’t feel the same way about him anymore.” I pause for effect. “Being in college has made me question what I want in life, and I don’t think it’s him. I deserve better. I deserve a man who treats me like I’m the most important person in the world.”

“It seems that this Dillon kid is a bit of a tool. You’re a beautiful girl, Zara, and you shouldn’t tie yourself down so early in life. Shit, I’m almost twenty-seven and I’m not married.”

“You have a girlfriend, though, right?”

“I do.”

“And do you think you want to be with her forever?”

“I’m not sure,” he answers honestly, his tone troubled and distraught. “I don’t think so. It’s kind of like you and Dillon. Something’s missing, I’m just not sure what.”

I’m what’s missing. Open up a little more, Noah. Just let me in. Then…Check. Mate.

“If you were a girl, I’d say you were probably missing the orgasm,” I joke, and he chokes on the other end of the phone.

Laughing hysterically, he tries to contain himself enough to talk, but every time he begins to speak, he starts laughing again.

“It’s not really that funny, Mr. Bain,” I pout.

“Okay, two things,” he manages to get out between chuckling. “First, when we’re acting as friends, you may call me Noah. It sounds really weird being this formal on the phone. And finally, you’re far too smart for a girl your age. There are certain things a young woman shouldn’t know about, and having a terrible relationship due to lack of orgasms is one of them.”

“Lack of orgasms is a huge problem in our society, Noah. A woman will do just about anything to reach that perfect, euphoric place. That’s why we get all crazy and shit….It’s because we’re having lousy sex.”

“You’re still too young to know these things.” He chuckles again.

“I’m old enough to know that I’ve had more sex in the last month than in my entire life and I’m feeling rather crazy.”

“Because you’re not getting your orgasms? Are you sure it’s not because it’s that time of the month?” he jokes.

“I promise. If I was having great, mind-blowing sex, I’d be in a much better mood.”

“There will be plenty of boys in your future that will help you fix that problem. For now you should just worry about getting through this semester. You probably should get to sleep. Classes in the morning and all,” he says, trying to change the subject.

“It was really nice talking to you, Noah. Thanks for being a friend.”

“I’m always here. Anything you need, just let me know.” I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, but all I can think is he just offered me an orgasm. The image of us rolling around in the sheets, hot and sweaty, our bodies connected, invades my senses and my aroused state only gets worse as I think about him. On me, in me, touching me.

Stop it. Don’t let him in like this. Cat and mouse. You have to win.

“Look, I gotta go. I’m sorry for bothering you.” I end the call and sit up. My heart is racing as I wipe my sweaty palms on my robe. He’s getting to me and I have no idea why. I have to remain in control, because right now that’s all I have. I reach for my phone again and tap out a message.

Me:
Thanks Noah. Just talking to you made me feel loads better.

I glance at the message on my phone. My heart pounding. Had that really just happened? I nearly keeled over when she started talking about orgasms. Hell, I haven’t spoken about sex this in-depth since I was a teenager. Sex with Shannon is very controlled and repetitive—when we even have it.

I tap back a reply, wondering what the hell I’m doing. What do I hope to get out of this? That entire phone call should have never happened. I should have stopped it before it went any further, but no, I have to make everything more difficult. I’ve known people who have lost their lives because they needed a friend and nobody was around. I think that’s why I allow her to get away with things I would have put a stop to with anyone else. She just seems so damn familiar. I can’t let her end up like…
Nope. Not going there.
I’ll be a friend to her, help her all I can.

I just have to be careful. Because one thing is for sure: I’m walking a very fine line with this girl.

Me:
I’m glad I could help. I’m here anytime you need me.

Zara:
Do you really mean that?

Me:
Of course I do.

I can’t be sure that I actually mean it. I know I want to, but if this thing escalates, I’ll have to put a stop to it. My mom was a fan of those student-teacher movies in which the student is a complete wack job. I know how these things can end up if the person who’s supposed to be in control doesn’t make sure he stays that way.

Zara:
What do I do about Dillon?

Me:
You have to do what’s right for you.

Zara:
Always?

Me:
Yes. Always.

Look at me telling this young girl that she has to do what’s right for her, and I won’t even take my own advice. If I would, then I wouldn’t be stuck in a dead-end relationship with Shannon. I’m such a fucking hypocrite.

Zara:
I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again, Noah.

Me:
Sleep well. You have class in the morning

Zara:
But my favorite class isn’t until afternoon. *wink*

Me:
Good night, Zara.

Zara:
Night Noah.

Plugging my phone into the charger, I leave it on the counter in the kitchen only after deleting my text and call history on the off chance that Shannon checks my phone. I’m still not exactly sure why I feel this urge to hide Zara away, but it makes the most sense. The calls…texts…they’re so inappropriate, there’s no way I wouldn’t get in trouble, even lose my job, if the administration finds out about any of it.

Climbing into bed, I’m fast asleep before Shannon returns from her day trip to the city. One day—one fucking day I hope she gets her priorities in order. I’ve never claimed to be an expert on women, but one shouldn’t own more Louis Vuitton bags than she has closet space to keep them. She could probably feed the needy with as much money as she’s spent at that damn store. My only reprieve is her pretty little trust account that funds her extravagant shopping trips. A teacher’s salary won’t keep her living the life she’s become accustomed to.

Tuesday afternoon rolls around faster than I would have liked. I usually enjoy my day free from classes, but this past one was a nightmare. All I could think of was meeting with Zara and making sure she was okay. Did she break if off with her boyfriend? Was she honest with him about their relationship? Did he kick her out and was she sleeping in her car?

I could have texted or called to check on her earlier in the day, but after last night and the sudden turn of events, especially the information regarding her sexuality, I wasn’t able to bring myself to initiate another conversation. One stupid dream I had has shown her in an entirely different light. One stupid conversation made me stop thinking about her as my student. All I could think of was bending her over my desk or folding her in half so her ears touched her ankles and fucking her madly.

The things I thought to do to that girl made an erotic novel look like a fucking children’s book. All of these conflicting emotions are going to give me a stroke. Half of me wanting to be only her professor, teaching her the beauty of literature, and the other half wanting to be so deep inside her I can’t see straight.

The day passes by in a blur. All I can think about is the tutoring session I have with Zara this afternoon. I shouldn’t help her, but I have this need to be there for her, which makes absolutely no sense. I’ve known this girl for three weeks and she’s made such a huge impression on me in that short amount of time. If I were being honest with myself and using all of the psychology shit I learned when I was forced into counseling when I was a teenager, I would tell you exactly what it is…Karly.

I met Karly on campus when I was still a teaching assistant, but became her professor just before she passed away. She seemed like she had it all together: had lots of friends, made good grades, and even pledged a sorority. None of that stopped her from taking her own life.

The morning her body was discovered the police interviewed a few of the faculty and some TAs to make sure that it wasn’t foul play. They finally ruled it a suicide. I wish I knew why. I wanted to ask her mother, but I was too scared to bring up something that was really none of my business. If she would have left a note, it would have been for her, right? I feel like if I had an idea of why her life wasn’t as important to her as it was to us, then I could put the silly notion aside that if I would have been there for her, I could have helped.

I took it harder than the rest of the school. Karly had been a friend of mine. She’d trusted me enough to tell me about problems she was having with her boyfriend and how her family would never understand him, but I never knew anything more about it. To the best of my knowledge, she had broken it off with him.

One night we were talking on an instant-messenger app and then the next the dean is making an announcement for grief counseling. That’s probably why I’m so interested in helping Zara with whatever she needs. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if anything happened to her like it did with Karly.

I’m so inside my own head that I don’t hear Zara enter the room until she’s within a few feet of my desk. I should have prepared myself a little better for this.

Zara saunters toward me wearing a tight fitted T-shirt and a pair of black pants that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination tucked into a pair of tan boots. She looks every bit the part of the college student she is, reminding me that I can’t even think about touching her.

Since she transferred in while classes were already in session, she did miss lessons from the beginning of the term. With midterms coming up, I feel compelled to help her even though I shouldn’t be alone with her any longer. I’m finding it harder and harder to fight the attraction that’s there. I’m not positive, but it feels like she wants to make a move but isn’t sure how. I really hope, for her sake and my sanity, that she doesn’t. It would make things too complicated, and I really do enjoy spending time with her.

“Let’s get this started. I want to try to make it home before Dillon and bake him something. It’s our anniversary,” she says, pulling a notepad and book out of her backpack. After everything she’s told me about him, I’m shocked she’s planning to celebrate anything with him. There’s also another feeling I’m not fully aware of, but it feels a lot like jealousy.

We spend the next half hour discussing the traits of Mr. Darcy. If I would have remembered how much she loved this specific character I would have chosen another one…maybe Lizzie.

“Noah, are you high? Mr. Darcy might be the greatest hero of any book written. He loved hard. Even after Lizzie shot him down multiple times, he never stopped fighting for her…for them. Never again are you allowed to say anything bad about him,” she all but yells defensively.
What is it with girls and their book boyfriends?

Watching her get all riled up about a book is turning me on. It sounds crazy, but a woman’s intelligence is almost as sexy as her ass, and with those damn yoga pants, Zara’s hitting it out of the park.

I give Zara a few notes to take down that will be on the final and she starts writing in her notepad. A piece of her blond hair falls in front of her face and, acting on their own accord, my fingers reach out and brush it behind her ear. Zara turns her head to the side and stares up at me through her lashes.

Our eyes lock and everything around us stops. Time isn’t going forward, the sounds outside of the room mute—like everything is in slow motion. I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, relishing the soft flesh under my digit. I lean forward and just before our mouths touch, her cellphone starts ringing.

I immediately pull back, scrubbing my hands over my face. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, as she digs the phone out of her purse. She stares at the caller ID for a moment and then answers.

“Hi, baby.”

“I’ll make sure I’m home when you get there.”

“I don’t really want to go out, but if you want to…”

“Okay. All right. Love you, too. Bye.”

She presses the end button and deposits the phone where she found it. “I have to go. Thanks for the lesson.” She smiles nervously and starts packing away her belongings.

“I really am sorry, Zara. I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay. I know. You kinda like me,” she says, smirking.

“That I do. We just can’t have that kind of relationship.”

“I’m pretty sure that as two consenting adults, we’re able to make that decision for ourselves. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to fly a banner that says we want each other, but giving our bodies what they crave…that seems like the most logical thing to do.”

Neither one of us says anything further. She rushes out the door, leaving me alone in my office, wondering if there was any truth to what she said.
Can we really make something work?

No. Hell, no.
We’re both in other relationships, and the most obvious factor is: I’m her teacher. It’s improper. Immoral. I could be fired for the thought alone. I have to find a way to put a stop to this. Find a way to control myself.

Checking my email before I leave for the day, I notice one from my mother. I debate opening that can of worms, but my curiosity gets the best of me. It’s been two years since she’s contacted me, this ought to be good.

My Dearest Noah,

Hello, son. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken, but I have a request. Your father has been selected by the Alumni Association to receive the Alum of the Year Award. There’s going to be a party in his honor since he’s accepting this evening. They’ve asked if the entire family can attend. Of course, I RSVP’d for all of us. I put you down for a plus-one, so please bring Samantha. We’d love to see her.

I look forward to seeing you, Noah. I truly miss you.

Best,

Gertrude

What kind of mother signs her emails with her name and not
Mom, Mommy,
or even
Mother
? And I really love being given next to no notice. I should say no to make her think I have a life, but that would just add ammunition to an already heated war. As much as the idea of spending quality time with Gertrude pains me, I should go and be there for my father. And whoever Samantha is, I’ll bring her, too. I’m sure she means Shannon, but what’s the point of correcting her? It’s just going to go in one ear and out the other.

I type out a quick reply. And by quick, I mean it in the literal sense.

G—

OK.

Noah

I’m going to need another three years of therapy after this visit. Here’s hoping for an open bar and all the whiskey I can drown myself in to get through this night.

I quickly book a hotel room for them, knowing damn well Gertrude will have something snide to say about my apartment and the guest room. They’ve never been to my apartment and I’d like to keep it that way. A decade of your parents fighting like boxing heavyweights has the ability to ruin even the best of memories. Their damn house is tainted, and if I brought them through my front door, there’s a good chance our relationship would be doomed.