She didn’t know how I grew up, how my father left when I was five and my mother not only blamed me but also found companionship in the form of alcohol.
It twisted my view of relationships so much that commitment felt dangerous. It was so much easier to have sex and let a person walk away. But with Zara, this was more than just sex.
I’d convinced myself I could let go with Zara, but it changed the moment I saw how she felt about me reflected in her eyes and how I felt the exact same way. Now I’d fucked it up with no clue how to fix it. If I kept her, there was a possibility we could get caught. If I didn’t keep her, she would hate me forever.
“I’m leaving.” Zara picked up her suitcase before rushing past me and down the hallway. I heard the door slam before my feet actually moved and I raced out of my apartment.
“Fuck,” I muttered, pivoting toward the stairs as the elevator doors closed. I ran down and caught Zara just as she walked off the elevator and reached the parking lot. “Zara, don’t leave like this. Please.”
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and I hated seeing the tears sliding down her cheeks. “I think it’s best that I leave now.” Her expression was one of disbelief and, worse, distrust. “I should have known better with you, Cole.” She swallowed and wiped her face. “We had fun, but I realize it was nothing more than that to you.” She didn’t believe that any more than I did. She brushed past me, but I grabbed her arm before she could get too far and spun her around.
I didn’t give her the chance to protest, just pulled her closer and kissed her. For a second, she kissed me back and I could feel her caving, but just as fast, she raised her hand and pressed it to my chest, forcing me away from her.
“You know what, Cole? We’re obviously not on the same page, and maybe that’s for the best. You’re my professor, and I never should have accepted your invitation to go away.” Her bottom lip trembled, and her voice shook. “Better to end it all now before my feelings truly get the best of me or, worse, we get caught.”
I opened my mouth, ready to argue, but nothing came out, and that was Zara’s last straw. She turned around and walked away, and like the dumb idiot I was, I didn’t stop her. I didn’t know how she was getting to her dorm or if she was even going straight there, but I knew it wasn’t wise to try to stop her.
I stood on the sidewalk, watching her until she disappeared around the corner of the street. “Fuck!” I barked, earning a few glances from the people walking past. I didn’t care what they thought, because I knew—I knew I’d just let the best thing to ever happen to me walk away.
When I got back to my apartment, Zara’s scent lingered, and rather than trying to get rid of it, I grabbed a whiskey tumbler and filled it before collapsing on my sofa. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. The urge to call up my mother, if she was even still alive, was strong. I wanted to tell her she’d fucked me up and ruined any chance I had of having a future with a woman, a future with Zara. I hadn’t even thought that far ahead until Zara came into the picture. All I knew was that how she made me feel scared me, but it also made me feel on top of the world, and now that was gone. Over.
The saddest part about it was even if I wanted to chase after her—to fight for her—I couldn’t. Because in doing so, it would jeopardize everything.
27
Zara
I had one night to myself before Astrid returned to the dorm, and I spent it crying over my professor. In my head, I realized how ridiculous that sounded. I had no business fooling around with my professor in the first place, but it didn’t stop my eyes from getting puffy.
My mother would’ve been so appalled because she’d raised me better than that—better than to weep over a man when there are so many fish in the sea, as she’d put it—but she’d also failed to prepare me for heartbreak, so it wasn’t like I could help it. I eventually gave in to sleep and only woke when I heard the door open and close.
“Wow,” Astrid said, tossing her luggage next to her bed. “You look like shit. Wait—are you sick? Please don’t tell me you’re sick. I cannot afford to get sick right now.”
I had a headache from hell, but I shook my head and replied, “No, I’m not sick.” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I was still wearing my clothes from the night before, and they smelled like Cole. Not like his cologne, but like him.