She stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest, her eyes widening. She hadn’t been expecting me to say that.
“What do you mean, we can’t?” she said evenly. “You didn’t seem to have any problem with it the last few weeks.” She was hurt. I could see it in her eyes. And I didn’t blame her. It had come out of nowhere.
“I’m sorry. This . . . I can’t do this.” I so badly wanted to elaborate, but I couldn’t.
What could I tell her? That I was so close to falling in love with her? That the last thing on my mind was the fact she was my student? I was hiding something, something so potentially life-changing—for both of us. Something she deserved to know.
But how could I tell her? How could I be responsible for breaking her heart like that? I’d rather end this now and have her think I was a weak piece of shit.
“I don’t care that you’re my teacher, Dalton. I don’t give a damn about that.” She was angry now. Her green eyes flashed as she stared me down. So much fire and passion for such a quiet girl. She knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
“But I do,” I fibbed. “My career, Wrenn. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to ruin it all on . . . ” My voice trailed off. The only way to do this was to convince her my career meant more to me than she did.
“On me?” she supplied. Her face hardened. “I get it. You don’t want to throw your career away on some fling, right? I was just some cheap entertainment to get you through the year?” She glared at me, demanding an answer that I wouldn’t give her. She nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t fuck me while you had the chance,” she taunted.
I looked away. I hated seeing her this angry. “Wrenn—”
“Don’t bother,” she interrupted. “Obviously we’re not on the same page. We never were.”
She ran to her car and jumped in, roaring out of the parking lot. I threw my arms back behind my head, angry with myself. Angry with my father. Angry at the whole fucking useless world.
Wrenn was unlike any woman I’d ever met—so feisty and sure of herself. But she wasn’t a woman, she was still a girl. Her being eighteen didn’t make this right. She’d been through more heartache than most people go through in their whole lives, and she’d dealt with it with such maturity and dignity. But none of that changed the fact that I couldn’t be with her—if anything, it magnified that fact.
It just wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair to her.
She was angry now, but I knew that would melt away. And once it did, she wouldn’t give in without a fight. Today I had won. But if she pushed me, I’d break; and when that happened, nothing would keep me from her.
God, I hope she respects my decision.
Chapter Sixteen
Wrenn
I was pissed.
Who was he to call all the shots? So he was scared. Big fucking deal. Grow a pair and deal with it. I’d coped with more in the last year than he ever would. I didn’t need him protecting me.
The way I felt about him had gone beyond some schoolgirl crush. We connected on so many levels. But he just couldn’t get past the fact that he was my teacher.
I’ve lost too much to let him slip away. I won’t let that happen. I refuse to.
I spent the rest of Sunday watching DVDs and glancing at my phone, hoping he would call or text—anything—to tell me he had changed his mind. Layna had commented on my foul mood, which I had chalked up to my period. That stopped any further questions. Possibly the only time my period had ever come in handy.
I hated the way I was feeling. He made me feel so vulnerable, so open to getting hurt. I hated that, and right now, I hated him. I considered faking being sick so I didn’t have to see him the next day, but part of me wanted to be there. I wanted to rub in his face what he was missing.
My phone beeped and I lunged at it, sighing when I saw it was only Kass. I read her message.
I’m guessing your weekend was as fun as mine *wink, wink*
I groaned and replied.
Only if you were at the dentist having teeth pulled. He ended it.
It took her less than ten seconds to call me.
“He what?” she yelled.
I held the phone away from my ear. “Ended. Finished. Over. Done,” I mumbled, digging a piece of lint out from under my nail. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, not even with her.