Rewriting History

“Fuck, I love you,” I mumble, the words tumbling out before I can stop myself.

Eli stills, his eyes closed, and collapses on top of me as he releases inside me.

We lie there for a couple of minutes, drenched in sweat. The smell of sex is all around us and I hope we are eating on this table tonight. It’s such a unique smell, our smell.

“So, dinner’s ready. I kinda got sidetracked.” He smirks.

“Really? I didn’t notice,” I tease, smiling.

Walking into the kitchen, I see a small round wooden table set up, complete with a white tablecloth, flowers, and candles. Add the faint background music, and you can’t get much more romantic than this.

I slip into one of the chairs and watch as Eli pours me a glass of wine. My heart swells. He’s everything I’ve wanted all my life, and I can’t believe how lucky I am.

Eli takes a seat across from me, holding his hand out to me, and I place my hand in his. I feel like I’m giving him my heart. Turning my hand over so it’s face up, he places an envelope gently on my fingers. I look down at our hands and then back up to him with a look on my face that would resemble an excited kid in a candy store.

“Happy birthday, Jill,” he whispers, pushing my hands toward me to open it.

I take my time to open the present. This is my first present from a boyfriend. My eyes widen and my mouth is open when I realize I’m holding a two-night getaway for Los Angeles.

“I was torn on what to get you,” he admitted. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had to buy for a girlfriend.”

“You did well,” I laugh. I can’t stop smiling. I feel so lucky to have so many people around me who care about me. “I don’t know what to say. This is amazing.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Eli, you’re the most amazing, sexy guy on the planet and I’m thrilled at the idea of sharing two nights in LA with you,’” he teases, rising from his chair.

“You’re an idiot,” I giggle. “But honestly, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend it with.”

“Now, before you sidetrack me again, I’m going to serve dinner.”

I watch as he loads the table between us with an array of garlic bread, pasta, and salad. It looks amazing and I’m impressed at how much trouble he has gone to.

“You cooked all this?” I gasp, a smile stretching across my cheeks.

He flushes. “Well, I may have had a little help from Dolante’s,” he admits, naming an expensive Italian restaurant in town.

I laugh, because I’m still impressed—because it’s probably even more considerate of him not to have subjected me to his cooking.

“Something funny?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

I shake my head. “No. Just thinking how lucky I am.”

Chapter Ten

Eli

Last night occupies my thoughts, and I’m finding it hard to focus on anything but the thought of myself inside her. I glance over and watch her sleep, easing strands of her hair from her face. She stirs, a smile spreading on her lips, but doesn’t wake. She is perfect.

I know I have to tell her, but I have no idea how. When she told me she loved me last night, I knew I wouldn’t be able to reciprocate the words. As much as I wanted to, until she knows where we stand, I don’t want her feelings to run deeper than they already ar

e.

I’ve never been so happy for the holidays—two weeks of not having to worry about being seen with her—but hanging in the back of my mind is the fact that I’ll be her teacher again. How do I tell her that? I want to wait for the right moment, but at the same time, I don’t want to lie to her.

I’m not going to ruin her break. We’ll make the most of this, and then I’ll tell her. Six months isn’t long, is it? We have the rest of our lives . . . if she even feels the same way. I know she loves me, but does love at eighteen differ from the love you feel at twenty-five? Was I capable of this at eighteen?

That’s what scares me most.

The problem with such a big age difference is that even though she’s mature for her age, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m eight years older than she is. It’s always in the back of my mind. Am I taking advantage of her? Am I stealing experiences from her? I hate the thought that I could be. She’s still so young, so impressionable, and I need to be cautious of that.