“Where? Professor Hunter, it’s late. Please stay. We can try to work this out. Don’t walk away from what we have.”
“I’ll be at a bar so that you can’t follow me. Or do you have a fake I. D. too?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Good.” He walked out of the room. I stumbled off the bed and ran after him. He was already standing by the elevator. He hit the button and the doors opened.
“Please don’t go.” I walked over to him. I wanted him to hug me and tell me everything was okay and that he loved me too.
He stepped onto the elevator. “I believe that you know how to let yourself out.” The doors slid shut and he was gone. I pressed my hand against the cold metal.
My whole body felt numb. I thought telling him would be a relief. A part of me thought he would forgive me. He had asked me to move in with him. And now he had kicked me out. Not just from his apartment, but from his life.
Tuesday
I sat down in the coffee shop and stared at the door. This was where I had first met Professor Hunter. The memory usually made me smile, but today it made me feel sick to my stomach. A month ago I had sat here, hoping to run into Austin. The hurt of him blowing me off was no comparison to how I felt now. It felt like I was drowning. Everything seemed bleak. I had no appetite. I couldn’t sleep. My hands shook slightly as I lifted my coffee cup. I took a sip, but it had no taste.
After Professor Hunter had walked out on me, I had wandered down to Main Street, searching for him in the rain. Every time I called him it went straight to voicemail. I traced my fingertip along the bottom of my lip, trying to remember what his hands on me felt like. I wanted to cry. I didn’t care that I was in a crowded coffee shop, I had never felt so alone in my life.
Professor Hunter had cancelled class on Friday. And on Monday he looked completely fine. He hadn’t glanced at me once. If he had, he would have seen the silent tears fall down my cheeks. I had made a mistake and I was sorry. But he wouldn’t forgive me. I needed him to forgive me. And I was hoping to run into him outside of class. Maybe he would talk to me here.
I pulled out the piece of paper from my pocket and unfolded it. I looked down at the sheet with my grade written on it in Professor Hunter’s sexy scrawl. He had handed out the grades on Monday, but the paper was already slightly worn from being folded and unfolded so many times. I ran my index finger along his words.
Student: Penny Taylor
Topic: Marketing
Miss Taylor,
You don’t know how much it pains me to see you hurt. Just give me a chance to explain. I can’t lose you.
As for your speech, I am in awe of you. Your passion is inspiring. Even though you strayed off topic, the whole class could learn a lot from you. And the fact that your passion is for me makes everything more real for me. I feel the same way about you. Minus the anger.
But it is usually best not to cry and curse during presentations, Miss Taylor.
Grade: A-
P. S. Now I know how it feels. I just need some time.
I wiped away the tears as I reread his P. S. It was in a different color ink, so it must have been written after he had learned that I wasn’t a senior. He needed time. But time was killing me. My phone buzzed. I had to get to class. I folded the paper and shoved it back into my pocket. I grabbed my umbrella in one hand and my coffee cup in the other and walked out into the rain.
* * *