“That’s not fair. I’m not the one who said those things to begin with. How am I supposed to know what you meant by it? I mean, you say that it’s a bad idea for me to be here, yet here I am. And I’m only here because you insisted that I stay. After telling me I have no business being at your house. Talk about mixed signals.”
His arms fell away as he turned his face toward the sky. I’d seen many sides of Axel Taylor over the almost four weeks I’d known him. I’d witnessed many different emotions from him over the last two and a half weeks since we’d started communicating regularly. But the version of him in front of me was something new. Instead of strength and confidence, I saw weakness and doubt. Instead of anger or control, he seemed lost and powerless. Instead of the man I’d grown accustomed to, a little boy sat in his place, and it made me want to go to him, hold him, and comfort him the same way he’d done for me so many times before. But before I could move toward him, he dropped his head and locked eyes with mine, silently begging me to respond. It was as if he feared his own words, and needed me to fill the silence.
So I did. “Axel, you’re the one that drew the lines of this friendship in the sand. You reiterated how important it was that I didn’t develop feelings for you. It’s unethical and wrong…remember? You said that. You didn’t want me thinking too much into things, because it would make everything complicated and confusing. I’ve done my part. I haven’t blurred or crossed any lines. I’ve never overstepped the boundaries of this friendship. So yeah, this has my head spinning because I don’t know where it came from. I have no idea what happened or when. So I’m asking you to clarify it for me.”
“I can’t,” he choked out, his voice nearly giving in under the strain of his abundant emotions. “You’re right. I said all those things to you. And you’ve done everything I’ve asked. You’ve followed all the rules. I’m the one that failed you. I’m the one that underestimated everything.”
“What does that mean?” I shouted, at the end of my metaphorical rope.
“I can’t explain it!” His voice rose to meet mine as his fisted hands punched into the grass beside him. “I can’t tell you, Bree. Read between the damn lines. You shouldn’t be here, but I can’t stand the thought of you leaving. There’s not a single reason why we should spend an hour on the phone each night together, but I can’t imagine going to bed without hearing your voice. It doesn’t matter that we’ve remained platonic, or that we’ve set ground rules and have stuck by them, because no matter how you look at it, what we’re doing is still unethical. I’m your teacher. You’re my student. Our interaction should begin and end with the bell. No matter how you spin it, this is wrong. And it’s eating me alive.
“When you’re my age, starting a career in high school education, you’re warned at every turn about this. About falling for a student. About getting involved with someone in your care. You’re reminded time and time again about the laws, the legal actions that can be taken against you when it comes to minors. I knew all this going into my job. I knew this when you caught my eye on the first day of class. I reminded myself of this when I gave you my number. And again at the library. Once more when I drove you home from school. I chanted it to myself over and over again when I got out of my Jeep and walked you inside your house. But then I covered you with a blanket. I saw that look in your eyes, the one that told me you’d never had that before. It told me that I had given you something you’d cherish. And the voice in my head started to quiet down.
“I made you soup. I didn’t make it for your mom, because if it were up to me, I’d tell her to make her own damn dinner. I did it for you. You needed someone to take care of you, and so I shut that voice down because I wanted to be that person for you. You deserved it. Even just for one day, just for one moment, I wanted to be the one that gave you peace. To ease some of the stress from your life. To take some of the burden off your shoulders. I never intended it to go beyond that day. I went and got you medicine, because sure, you needed it, but also because I desperately needed you to get better. I figured if you got better, you’d go back to handling things on your own, and I wouldn’t feel this overwhelming need to care for you anymore.”
Tears filled my eyes, ran down my cheeks, and plummeted to my lap. The pain in his voice ran throughout my entire body, burning me from the inside out. But I was helpless to do anything about it. Shocked, stunned, completely flabbergasted over his impassioned confession, I found myself rooted to the grass, too weak to move, too overcome with emotion to speak, and too affected by his words to breathe properly. I was powerless to stop it. I had to sit there, forced into silence by my reaction to this new revelation, and endure the bashing my heart took by each and every word he spit at me. He may have sounded angry as he exposed his feelings to me, but I knew the truth. He wasn’t mad at me. His rage was directed at himself. Yet at that moment, hearing his raw pain, knowledge didn’t mean shit.
It didn’t protect my heart from breaking.
It didn’t stop my tears from spilling.
And it didn’t prevent me from falling to pieces in front of him.
Axel took a breath before continuing. “I told myself after leaving your house that day that I’d done my part. I took care of you. But I found myself thinking about you. About what you said as to why you were sick. About what your mom did to you. And it ate at me. I went to work the next day, and stared hopelessly at your empty seat. I wondered what you were doing, how you were feeling, if you needed me. You consumed my every thought until I made the rash decision to go see you. I wanted to call you, but knew you didn’t have a phone, so I got you one. Yes, I wanted you to have it in case of emergencies. I wanted you to be able to reach me if you ever found yourself in another situation like you did that night after the library. But also, I wanted a way of getting ahold of you. I hated the idea of not having any way of contacting you. So, I picked up a phone and headed to your house.
“You were joking when you said something about me being at your house without adult supervision…but it hit me like a ton of bricks. It made me question myself. What the hell was I doing there? I needed to leave. I should’ve been the responsible one and left. But you got sad…or something. You blamed yourself for my change in attitude, when it had nothing to do with you. I was mad at myself. But you didn’t know that, and you took it personal. I hate how your mother has managed to demolish your self-esteem. It kills me when I see that. Because you’re the smartest, most beautiful¸ fun, spirited person I’ve ever met. When you light up, you fucking shine. Your smile could bring a grown man to his knees. With as smart as you are, I have no doubt that you’ll be unstoppable once you’re unleashed. If only you’d get out of your own damn way. If only you’d stop listening to the poison your mother feeds you. I wasn’t lying when I told you that you have the spirit of a wild animal with your wolf eyes. And that’s when I ignored all logic, I blocked out the voices of reason, and I stayed. I gave you the phone, made you take it, and didn’t regret it.
“Truth be told, Bree, had you not sent me a text that night, I probably would’ve called you. Luckily, I didn’t have to make that choice. But in hindsight, I should’ve ended it then, when you told me how confused you were. When you expressed concern over our relationship. I should’ve been the bigger person and ended it before it began. But I had gone to seminars and listened to lectures about keeping an upstanding reputation when dealing with students not much younger than me. I’d heard stories from other young male teachers about good-looking students hitting on them and how they had to handle it. I honestly thought I was in control. I thought that if I kept myself in check, if we followed the rules and didn’t complicate things, I’d be able to have you in my life without breaking the rules. I thought I could have my cake and eat it, too.” His eyes were so full of pain and regret, his face so wrought with despair, that if I’d seen him shed any tears, it wouldn’t have surprised me. But there were none. I had enough for the both of us. Yet that didn’t take away from his gritty emotion. Even though he hadn’t cried, I could feel his agony in his words, hear it in his voice, and see it in his eyes.