I had to get her out of my system. After spring break was over, she was only going to have a couple more weeks of school with me and then I’d never see her again. She’d be a grade higher and I’d be in the same place, on the same hallway in the school. If we didn’t have to see one another again, it would be easy. Eventually we’d forget one another, or she’d find some boyfriend on campus and move on. She’d graduate and I would probably still be there, teaching my students and living my usual life.
It was Sunday morning and I was making my usual Colombian coffee. I brought my mug with me to the two-top table and sipped it, checking my phone. She still hadn’t texted me back. It was nearing seven in the morning. I was an early riser, but maybe she wasn’t. Or maybe she was and she’d seen the message but didn’t think it was appropriate.
My laptop, a couple of papers to grade, and my phone were set up on the table too. I picked up my phone and reread the message I’d sent.
* * *
I’ll be going to Orlando and will be out there for a couple days. Will you join me?
* * *
Fuck. So unprofessional. I started to text back “You can tell me no. I’ll understand.” But I refrained. I had to give the message some time. It was still early and it was the weekend, and it didn’t matter how smart a college student was—they still enjoyed sleeping in on the weekends.
So, I waited, going back to grading the first pack of essays from one of my other classes.
As I did, my eyes shifted up to the other side of the table at the chair that was empty. Then I took a look around my apartment. There was only me. It was always just me. Me against the world. Me against a mother who neglected me and a father who didn’t want to claim that I was his.
I sighed and sipped my coffee. I’d worked hard to get to where I was. I didn’t bullshit, didn’t dilly-dally. I did what I had to do and paved a way for myself. To people on the outside looking in, they would assume I’d had a good life…but sometimes my life was lonely, and sometimes it didn’t feel worth living.
It probably would have been better if I’d had some kind of life partner, but at thirty-four years old, I didn’t want to commit. The thought of being with someone forever and realizing they could cause permanent damage to me the way my parents had done to each other and to me made me not want a family. The thought of kids absolutely terrified me. Don’t get me wrong, I loved kids. Kids were incredible and beautiful gifts to this world, but the thought of having my own child and raising him or her scared the hell out of me. Having all of that responsibility and knowing it was going to be up to me—an already fucked-up human being—to make sure our child didn’t turn out as fucked up as I was…well, that was a hard pill to swallow. I didn’t want to put my burdens on someone so young and innocent.
It was why none of my previous relationships lasted and why, if I had any relationships in the future, they wouldn’t last either.
Maybe that was the thing. Deep in my heart, I didn’t want them to last, and maybe that was why I wanted Zara right now. Not just because I was attracted to her, but because I could have her and we could have fun together, but this thing we were doing would never—could never—last.
As risky as it was on every other end, it was pretty damn safe for my heart.
14
Zara
I’ll be going to Orlando and will be out there for a couple days. Will you join me?
* * *
At first, I felt I should have been excited—over the moon, even—about Cole’s text. Spending days away with a man I was head over heels for, having him all to myself while in a place no one knew us? It sounded both incredible and too good to be true.
But as I showered, freshened up, and got ready for my Saturday, I thought deeper into what he was asking me. He wanted me to go to Florida with him, to spend solo time with just him.
My mind couldn’t fathom the idea of it. This older man who could have had any woman at any given moment wanted to take me, a twenty-year-old sophomore, to another state just to be with him?
Was he serious? What did he want out of this, exactly? That was the question that haunted me. What did he want from me other than sex? I was sure he knew I was inexperienced with it. He had to have known—it was written all over me. I was an absolute klutz with minimal grace who was way too easily embarrassed over the smallest things, especially around him.