Trapped With My Teacher

Then he made coffee.

Our second day was another long bath, that only got us dirtier, then more of the same, neither of us able to keep our hands off one another, neither able to get enough. Even as we cooked dinner together (him in charge of seasoning and actually cooking everything this time, me just doing the prep work), he kept resting one hand on my hip, touching my shoulder, leaning in to rest his chin on top of my head or plant a slow, sultry kiss on my lips right before nearly burning the fish fillets we were making.

Waking up this morning felt frighteningly normal. I stirred, and felt Tony’s arm tighten around my waist, listened to the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. And I felt at home. Despite everything. Despite the snowdrifts outside, our total lack of connection to the outside world, our uncertainty about when someone will find us… I feel safe here with him. Relaxed. More at peace than I have in months.

I stare at the wall, keeping my breathing slow and even so as not to disturb him. Not yet. I want to keep this moment going for as long as possible. Because I already know this won’t last. It can’t. It’s impossible.

Your professor is not someone to fall for. Not long term.

His arm tightens around my waist, almost subconsciously. I reach down and twine my fingers through his, grip his hand gently as I close my eyes and try to drift back off to sleep. We don’t need to be up—we have another couple of hours before we’ll need to stoke the fire and start thinking about breakfast. And beyond that, well… We don’t actually have anything we need to do at all, beside survive.

But my movement must have awoken him, because Tony tightens his grip again, shifts against me, then leans in to kiss my neck gently, right at the sensitive spot where my ear meets my neck.

“Awake already?” he murmurs. Dawn has barely begun to dust the curtains above our heads. I should still be fast asleep, he’s right.

I sigh and squeeze his fingertips again. “Just thinking.”

He’s silent for a moment, at that. We still haven’t talked. Not really. Not about whatever this is. We have a sort of silent, unspoken agreement between us. If we talk about this situation, examine it too closely, we both know it will shatter. So we don’t. We let the illusion live, for now. Enjoy this time while we have it.

His lips brush against the nape of my neck now, the kiss even softer this time. “That’s a dangerous habit,” he whispers. His breath feels hot, hot enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I lean back against him and let out another soft sigh. “Believe me, I know. This…” I glance down at our entwined fingers.

“This is dangerous,” he finishes for me.

“Why, exactly?” I murmur.

Another long silence. Only his breathing tells me he’s still awake. Then he sighs, too, and there’s that white-hot breath again, right on my sensitive skin. “It just is.”

I close my eyes. Bite the inside of my cheek to keep from shedding a tear. He’s right. This is dangerous. Once the snow clears and we’re out of here, this will end. It has to. So, as impossible as it seems from where I’m lying now, I tell myself not to get attached. Not to get used to this. Enjoy the moment, but keep in mind always: This will end soon.

Another three days. Another storm. This one buries the path I dug to the shed and completely obscures the windows. We have to clamber through the snow just to dig out the windows to let in light, and then re-tunnel our way out to the shed.

We haven’t used the bath in the last two days. Not since we took a look at the wood supply, which once seemed excessive, and now seems startlingly small.

This morning, Tony spent the better part of the day out front sticking flags made from spare clothes we have all over the lawn. Just in case. Just in case someone drives by and doesn’t notice the smoke coming out of the chimney or the cars out front we’ve dug out again. Just in case someone, anyone, happens by.

We started up my car last night to listen to the news. The reception was patchy, but we got the latest update. The last storm on the radar should pass tonight. Then it looks like clear skies for the foreseeable future. We listen to the cheerful weather announcer describe the blizzard downtown. All the snow, all the houses buried, all the school cancellations and cars that skidded or crashed on the roads. Even a couple stories about skiers lost on slopes who were recovered after an overnight manhunt.

It all feels so far away.