Indisputable (14 page)

Looking at Jacoby, I’m unsure what he wants me to
do.  He seems so different than the authority figure he tries to be in
school.  After the first few days of class I never would have imagined
myself sitting at a bar on a Saturday night with my calculus teacher and his
good friend.  He tried to order me water, but I want to push my limits
with him tonight.  I wonder if I can bring out the Ryan I met two weeks
ago.

“Actually, I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What?”

“Sure.” 

Jacoby and Trey answer simultaneously, and I have to
hide my grin.  One drink won’t hurt, but it was worth seeing that look on
Mr. Ryan’s face.

“Uh, yeah.  I need to unwind a bit.” 

Jacoby tries to pin me with his stare, attempting to
scold me with his coffee colored eyes.  Instead, I turn on the stool and
face Trey to escape.

“So, Trey,” I smile sweetly at him.  “What do you
do?”

“I’m in the military.  Army reserves now,
although, I was on active duty up until last year.  I’m co-owner of the
gym on Seventh Street.  So if you ever need a place to work out, I could
help you out with that,” he finishes with a wink. 

I giggle.  I can’t help it as the high pitched
squeak escapes my mouth.  Part of me knows I’m flirting to irritate
Jacoby, but it’s all fun and games.  For once, I feel like I’m acting my
age, instead of the eighteen-going-on-thirty-five I’ve maintained for the past
6 months.

“Can’t say I ever really workout,” I reply, looking at
my puny arm, “But thanks for the offer.”

“What is it you do, Tatum?” 

I explain my job as a CNA, and add a few memorable
stories to keep the conversation going.

“So we had these two clients last year.  One was
mostly blind and had dementia, and the other rarely ever spoke and also had
dementia.  So you can imagine, most of what they said was gibberish. 
Some afternoons we sit at a picnic table outside and read the newspaper to the
residents.  I had just finished reading a section about a young man who
had set up a local basketball tournament to raise money for some charity, when
the first lady shouts out, “Hey, what’s the score?”  I kid you not, the
second lady was across the table, and she leans over and says, “Pimps 10, Hoes
nothing!” 

Both Jacoby and Trey erupt in a fit of roaring
laughter, and I join them before taking a swallow of my drink.

“Sounds like a pretty entertaining job,” Trey adds
while tipping the neck of his beer to his lips.

“It can be.  It has its low points, too.” 
Suddenly Monica surfaces in my mind.  I haven’t really thought about her
since Thursday morning when I left her with her family, and I feel
guilty.  The thought puts a damper on my good mood, and I’m quick to
swallow the rest of my drink.  The refreshing coolness slides down my
throat perking me up a bit.

“Another?” Trey asks, and I nod, ignoring the way
Jacoby tenses beside me.

When the bartender places the drink in front of me, I
take a big gulp. 

“Jacoby here says you’re staying with him a
while.  What’s up with that?”

“Uh, water leak.  Yeah.  There’s a huge leak
in my apartment ceiling, and I can’t live there while maintenance fixes
it," I lie quickly.  “It destroyed my bed while I was at work the
other day.”  Hopefully the lighting is dim enough he doesn’t see the
bright red color now coating my cheeks.

“Ah, so good ‘ol Jacoby here decided to share his with
you?” Trey wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and I blush even more.

“Man, she’s in the guest room,” Jacoby cuts in, quick
to shut down that train wreck. 

For some unknown reason, his response actually stings
a little.  Maybe he really is seeing someone.  Why would he bring me
with then?  Pity?  Fuck pity. 

I down the rest of my vodka, starting to feel a little
buzzed on the stool I’m perched on.  I shut out the conversation the two
are having and get lost staring at the television next to the bar—staring but
not seeing. 

“Want to dance?” Trey inquires, breaking me from
zoning out. 

“Seriously, dude?  And what I’m I supposed to
do?” asks Jacoby, an irritating look in his eye. 

“Go pick someone else out,” Trey tells him.  “What
do you say, Sweetheart, one dance?” he finishes to me. 

“Sure,” I reply, feeling a bit reckless and even more
annoyed.  If Jacoby just brought me here because he felt sorry for me, I’m
going to make sure I have a good time without him. 

Trey stands up, swiping his beer off the bar top and
holds his hand out to me.  As I go to hop down from my stool, a pair of
strong hands grasp my waist, holding me still.  A shock of electricity
zings from those hands to the depths of my belly. 

Jacoby puts his mouth to my ear.  “What are you
doing?”

“Having fun,” I reply simply, trying to ignore the
warmth spreading from his touch.

“Fuck, Tatum, don’t do this.  We can go if you
want.” 

I glance back over my shoulder once and almost regret
it.  Jacoby’s face is within inches of my own, and I don’t miss the way
his eyes drop to my lips.  My breath catches in my throat. 

“I’m going to dance.  I’ll be back.” 
Placing my hand within Trey’s, I allow him to pull me out in front of the band.

The beat is fast.  A rapid pounding of drums and
Trey knows how to dance.  He wraps me in his arms, tightly but casually,
and I can tell he’s only trying to have a good time, not get into my
pants.  Maybe he sensed some of my tension earlier and is trying to help
me loosen up.  Regardless, our dancing is platonic, and I feel comfortable
with him. 

Jacoby on the other hand looks pissed.

Every time I face the bar, I feel my eyes magnetically
drawn to where he sits, nursing another whiskey.  And every time I face
the bar, his eyes lock on mine.  Dark brown to hazel.  Angry to
defiant.  I feel a surge of annoyance that he’s pouting when he could have
asked me to dance.  Instead, I’m encased in the muscular arms of his good
friend whom I just met. 

Trey releases me, holding just my hand, and I close my
eyes and feel the music coursing through me.  The drumming takes up
residence within my body, and my hips rock to the beat.  I release my
tension on the string of melody floating through the air, losing myself. 
I couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to just let go for a little
bit.  I’m more tightly wound than I thought. 

One song turns into two, turns into three, and before
I know it, sweat is running down my back.  Trey is still dancing with me,
although not too closely, as if he understands I’m not that type of girl and
he’s giving me space.  I feel comfortable with this genuine guy, and I’m
glad Jacoby brought me along tonight. 

Thinking his name has me suddenly looking for
him.  In my passionate desire to unwind, I sort of forgot he was
here.  Turning my attention to the bar, I find him where we left him,
looking forlorn and slightly angry.  What the hell is his problem? 
At least Trey is nice enough to engage with me.  Jacoby wants to just sit
around and act like a father figure.  I don’t need him to try to take care
of me.  I need to have some fun. 

The song changes and I need to take a break, but I
don’t want to sit at the bar again.  Jacoby will probably try to talk me
into leaving so I excuse myself to use the restroom. 

Once inside, I pause at the sink, resting my hands
against the porcelain basin.  I’ve never been much of a hopeful person,
but after everything with my mom, this past week makes me wonder what’s really
out there for me.  Why do I try so hard to make a good life for myself
when shit like this happens?  Why do I deserve for everything to be so
tough when people like Emerson seem to have it so easy?  When I look down,
I realize my hands are gripping the ledge with white knuckled force, and I
relax my hands, letting out a long, slow exhale. 

Maybe it’s time I stop fighting reality.  Maybe I
was never meant to have a happy life, and I should just settle with what’s
around me.  Maybe I’m not so different than people like Wyatt, two squares
cut from the same cloth. 

Get a grip, Tatum.  I did not just compare myself
to him.

I wash my hands violently at the sink until the skin
is red and raw.  The sensitized skin takes my mind off the depressing path
it was trailing down.  I better get back out there before those two guys
wonder what happened to me.  Jacoby will probably be waiting with a
lecture. 

As I walk through the heavy wooden door, I’m
startled.  Standing directly across from me is Jacoby.  His face is
blank and impassive, yet he’s watching me with a strange intensity. 

“You didn’t have to come looking for me.  I know
how to use the bathroom by myself.”

He doesn’t reply.  Instead, he pushes himself off
the wall and takes a measured step towards me.  I hold perfectly still,
captivated by his suddenly strange demeanor.  What is he doing?  When
I don’t move, Jacoby takes another step, and another, his eyes locked on mine
the entire time.  Something stirs within my belly as I watch his unhurried
approach, and I can’t help sweeping my eyes down his muscular frame. 

Suddenly, he’s before me, but he doesn’t stop
there.  Before I can react, Jacoby threads his large hand into the hair at
the back of my neck and walks me backwards until I’m pressed against the door I
just came through.  His eyes close seconds before he lowers his lips to
mine, and something inside me breaks.  Whatever wall I had erected to
protect myself is now lying in a crumbled heap around me.  I’m frozen by
the feel of Jacoby’s warm mouth pressed against my own as he brushes his lips
back and forth before pulling away. 

We stare at each other, my chest heaving with an
embarrassing amount of movement.  Jacoby brings his hand to the back of
his neck, before he shakes his head and turns, disappearing in the room full of
people.  I’m left alone in the dim hallway reeling about what the hell
just happened.

Jacoby

What in the hell did I just do? 

I walk straight through the room full of people and
out the front door seeking a breath of fresh air.  I just came on to my
student.  Not only did I come on to her, I kissed her!  Again! 
Although, this time I can’t feign ignorance. 

And if that wasn’t bad enough, I really liked kissing
her.  So much so, I’d kiss her again if I could.  Fuck.  I’ve
messed everything up.

I sat at that bar watching her dance with Trey, song
after song, and I couldn’t help myself from watching her body move.  I was
mesmerized by the way she seemed to lose herself in the music.  And I was
turned on that she seemed so oblivious to how sexy she looked doing it.  I
even caught Trey checking her out a few times, and the thought made me so angry
I felt as if I needed to claim her as my own. 

She’s not mine! 

I’m an idiot.  I took this vulnerable girl, who
not two days ago was sexually assaulted, and I forced myself on her.  I’m
her teacher.  She should be able to trust me.  She’s staying in my
house, and I jumped on her like a horny teenager.  Am I really lacking
that much in self-control?

And now, now she has nowhere to go because she’s
afraid to go home, and she’s not going to want to stay with me anymore.  I
took the one place she was feeling safe enough to stay, and I’ve made it
awkward and uncomfortable.  So now she has to choose between risking her
apartment and that Wyatt douche, or taking her chance with me kissing her
again.  I seriously messed up. 

I just have to make sure she knows that was a
mistake.  If I convince her I had a little too much to drink and it was
bad judgment, maybe then she’ll still stay with me.  Christ, that doesn’t
make me look like a responsible adult.  I’ll just tell her that I’m
attracted to her, but it was wrong of me to kiss her.  Fuck, she’ll never
believe that.  I kick a heap of trash on the ground, watching it fly
bounce off the sidewalk and roll across the lot. 

I’ll just be honest with her.

As I turn around to head back inside, I’m stopped in
my tracks.  Tatum is waiting for me just outside the door, watching me
carefully as I pace back and forth like a lunatic.  This just keeps
getting better and better. 

I approach her carefully, but this time I hold my
hands up in a gesture of surrender.  This is going to be fucking
embarrassing.

“Tatum—I’m really sorry,” I begin, but she cuts me
off.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I shouldn’t have.”

“But why did you?”

The closer I get, I can see the redness in her
cheeks.  Her eyes are bright, and she’s breathing heavily.  I can’t
help it, she’s turning me on.  “I did it because I wanted to.  I’m
sorry, I shouldn’t have acted so impulsively.” 

“Kiss me again.”

I freeze.  Certainly I misheard her. 

“Excuse me?”

She takes a step towards me, and I’m torn between
thoughts of rushing her or running away.  What did I get myself
into? 

“I said, kiss me again,” she states slowly when she’s
standing mere inches from me. 

My mind is racing, and I’m caught between doing what
is right or what I want to do.  What kind of signals did I send her by
kissing her and what kind of rejection am I going to send by turning her
down?  “Tatum, I—“ 

She takes one step closer.  “Please.  I’m begging
you to kiss me.”

I don’t know if it’s the innocence in her eyes, or the
fact she’s begging me, but she crumbles my resolve.  Before I can think
through my actions, I wrap my arms around her and pull her to me, crushing my
mouth against hers. 

She doesn’t hesitate.  Tatum pulls me into her as
if she can’t get close enough, gripping the front of my coat and anchoring my
body to hers.  When she lets out a small whimper, I feel as if I’m going
to detonate right there, my dick getting rock hard in my jeans.  She sucks
my bottom lip into her mouth, giving it a small nip with her teeth, and I
shudder.  And not from the cold.  I slip my tongue into her mouth,
imploring her to let me.  I become bolder, tangling it with hers, tasting
her.  She tastes fucking amazing, like sweetness and a hint of
vodka. 

My hand begins to glide towards her ass when I
remember.  I have to stop this.  This is my student.  Good God,
she feels incredible, but we can’t do this.  Tatum is dangerous.  I’m
like fire, and she’s the gasoline.  Just her proximity is enough for my
sparks to catch.  Once that happens, it’s all over.  Together, we’re
a raging inferno.  

It takes all my will power but I wrench my mouth away
from hers, gasping at the loss of contact.  My stomach twists when I watch
her bring a shaky hand to her lips, touching them as if to gauge if this was
all a dream. 
It’s real, sweetheart
, I want to tell her. 
Fuck, that was definitely real. 

“We can’t do this.  You’re my student, and it’s
just wrong.  Do you understand?”

“Is it wrong?  It’s not the first time.”

“Yes, of course it’s wrong!” I shout back, feeling
myself becoming angry.  Angry at myself.  Angry at her for begging
me.  Angry because I want to give her everything she could ever ask for.

“Why?” she whispers, pushing me closer and closer to
the edge.

“You know why,” I hiss.

“It didn’t feel wrong.”

My mouth opens and closes, but there’s nothing I can
say.  I can’t admit how good it felt.  Someone has to be the voice of
reason here, and clearly, she’s not up to the task.

She looks away when I don’t answer, embarrassed, but
when she turns her face back to me, her resolve is set.  My stomach
twists, fearful of what she’s about to say.

“I’ll find somewhere else to stay, Mr. Ryan. 
Bring me to get my things, and I’ll be out of your way.”  Her tone is
hard, yet void of emotion.  I know she has to be pissed, but she doesn’t
sound pissed.  She just sounds…hollow.

“Tatum, no, wait.  I don’t mean that.”

“It’s exactly what you mean.  I don’t need you to
tell me you felt something there.  I know you did, because I felt it
too.  And if you think it’s wrong then I need to stay somewhere else,
because it felt so right to me.  Nothing in my entire life has felt so
right.  So please, I’m going to find somewhere else to stay.”  Before
I can respond, she marches back inside. 

I wait a few minutes before I follow, and I find her
at the bar with Trey, tossing down another drink.  Damn him and his bad
influence.  I’ll be filling him in on her situation later.  Right
now, I need to get her out of here and talk her out of wanting to stay
somewhere else.  I have a feeling if she had had somewhere else to go, she
would have been there already instead of sticking it out with me.  I’m not
sending her back to that apartment of hers so she can be afraid every
night.  I’ve seriously messed everything up. 

As I approach the bar, Tatum pretends to not notice
me, but I see the flush rapidly creep across her neck.  It’s not until I’m
perched back on my stool do I see that Trey has his hand resting casually on
her thigh.  What the hell is she playing at?  I order myself another
drink and sit morosely while they talk, Tatum sharing stories about her work,
and Trey flirting with her incessantly in a typical Trey fashion.  I
should have known better than to bring her with tonight.  This has been a
disaster.

After slamming my drink, I stand up, ready to get out
of this place.  Tatum and I need to talk, and we aren’t doing any of that
with Trey around.  “Ready to go?” I ask her, trying to hide the frustration
in my voice. 

“I’m doing just fine right here.  You can go,
I’ll call a cab.”

“You don’t need to call a cab.  I can give you a
ride,” Trey adds.

“That’s unnecessary because Tatum is coming with
me.”  The venom behind the words is unintentional.  I’m edgy and
tired, and it comes out all wrong.  I realize this when both their heads
whip around in my direction. 

“No, I’m not,” she responds.

“What’s gotten into you, man?”

“Nothing,” I scrub my hand over the two day stubble on
my cheek.  “It’s just been a long few days, and Tatum and I need to sort
out some things,” I lie.

“Relax, man.  I’ll get her home in a bit. 
If she’s not ready it’s no big deal.  You won’t sort out much tonight,
anyway.  It’s one a.m.” 

It’s hard to argue when he sounds so logical, but he
doesn’t have a clue what’s going on.  Desperately, I pin my eyes to Tatum
imploring her to give up on this stand-off.  We both need sleep and a
chance to settle our thoughts. 

She sighs dramatically.  I don’t know if it’s
because of the liquor or if it’s just to bother me.  But it fucking
bothers me.

“It’s okay.  He’s right, we do need to
talk.”  She looks back at me for one half second before she turns back to
Trey.  “It was nice meeting you and thanks for the offer,” she says,
leaning a bit closer to him. 

Fuck, she better not.  A sickening warmth spreads
rapidly through my chest.

“Oh, it was my pleasure,” Trey purrs. 

Damnit to hell. 

Tatum leans in to Trey, planting a soft kiss against
his dark lips, and the bastard reciprocates.  Jealousy and rage hit me
like a swift double tap to the gut, and I physically struggle to remain upright
and not lunge at the two of them.  This is what I get for getting involved
with Tatum and her childish little games.  Forget it.  She can walk
home.  I jam my arms into my coat and stalk off towards the door without a
backwards glance. 

Once I’m outside, I bring my fist down into the brick
side of the building, and the pain ricochets up my arm, straight into my
elbow.  Now I have something else to focus on besides the burning ache in
my gut. 

Just as I put the car into reverse and back out of my
space, Tatum comes waltzing out of the front door.  Half of me wants to
take off and leave her there, but I can’t do that.  She wants to play
games?  Fine, but all she did was solidify in my mind that she’s too
immature for me.  And this is wrong. 

I slam the car to a stop in front of her, and she just
stares at me.  Sighing, I roll down the passenger side window. 

“Get in.”

The grin she was sporting inside is wiped off her face
as she climbs in the passenger side.  She doesn’t say a word as I peel out
onto the dark highway.

It’s hard to ignore glancing at her as we drive
silently down the highway, but I keep replaying their kiss in my mind. 
Those images are more than enough to extinguish the urge.  It hurts more
than it should. 
She’s my student
, I remind myself for the
hundredth time tonight.  I don’t have a right to feel this way about
her.  

“How mad are you?” She asks when we’re about ten
minutes from home. 

“Pretty damn mad.”

“Why do you care if you think it’s so wrong for us?”

I cut her a hard glare before returning my eyes to the
road.  “It is wrong.”

“Then why do you care?”

“Because I do.”

“But why, Jacoby.  Tell me why.”

“BECAUSE I DO!”

Tatum instantly falls quiet and turns her stare out
the window instead.  It takes mere seconds for the guilt to kick in. 
But what was I supposed to tell her?  The truth?  The truth isn’t
going to get us anywhere, because the reality is that we can’t have that kind
of relationship.  And she knows it.  Her little mind games aren’t
fair. 

When we get inside, Tatum heads into her bedroom while
I stop off in the kitchen for a water.  I hear her shuffling around so I
walk back to investigate and feel another rush of guilt when I peer inside her
door.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting my shit together.”

“You don’t need to leave.”

“Yes I do,” she responds without looking at me. 
Her face appears almost stricken as she packs up the few items of clothing into
the backpack she brought from her apartment today.  It’s hard to believe
that was just this morning.  In less than 24 hours, I made her feel
uncomfortable staying here when she has nowhere else to go.  Way to go,
moron. 

“Tatum, stop.  Put your things down.  I want
you to stay.”

“No, you don’t.  I’m a burden to you.”

“You’re not a burden at all.”

“Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

“You’re being unreasonable.  Listen to me.”

“No!”  She finally pauses her packing to look up
at me, her hazel eyes holding a new fire I didn’t know they were capable of
making.  I don’t let myself miss the way the backpack hangs limply in her
hand in defeat.  My heart stutters to a halt. 

“You made it clear that anything between us is
wrong.  Even though I’m eighteen and have been living like an adult for
the past year and am clearly capable of making my own decisions.  It’s
uncomfortable for the both of us now, and you know it.  I need to
leave.  I can’t stay here and hide out for the rest of my life.  ”