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ELEVEN

IMOGEN

I can’t believe this is happening. I am shaking as I attempt to slink in the shadows towards my freaking teacher’s house.

He almost called it a date. He never said the words, but he was going to.

A date with Drake Bellingham. I can’t believe my luck.

Is this good or bad? I have yet to figure that out.

I want to go there anyway—because every time he looks into my eyes, I’m undone and led willingly down a path I have no right to be on.

He’s your teacher. Walk away and fast.

My inner voice attempts to tug me back as I glance down to the ground, my baseball cap firmly covering my hair and my headphones on.

I am pretending to be out for a jog and only the rucksack behind me disguises the cans of soda and key lime pie I took from the freezer. I’ll replace it when we head to town.

We. Why do I picture Drake and me as a we now? There is no we. There will never be a we.

I consider turning around and running fast the other way, but something is compelling me to continue my journey.

I want to go even knowing there is something between us that could ruin us both.

I’m not a fool. I see the battle waging in his eyes because I am fighting the same one.

I want my teacher and I am officially going to hell in a handbasket.

I see him almost immediately, and my heart flutters. He’s waiting on the veranda and appears more like a student than a teacher in his tight t-shirt, shorts and sneakers with mirrored shades perched on the bridge of his nose, a bottle of beer hanging loosely in his hands.

He nods when he sees me coming and chuckles softly, “I like the disguise.”

I grin. “Sorry, I didn’t want anyone to see me heading this way.”

It’s a little awkward as I head up the wooden steps and hesitate, staring at the only other seat which happens to be right by his side. There is only one chair on this veranda and it’s a double one.

He sets the beer down as I shrug off my rucksack and hand him the soda and pie with a shy smile.

“My favorite.”

His blinding smile only increases my nerves and I attempt to swallow them and tease, “I must have known.”

He nods toward the seat as he chucks me a can.

“I’ll put this in the fridge and grab the pizza.”

As he disappears inside, I perch nervously on the chair and attempt to get my breathing under control.

This is wrong on every level. I shouldn’t be here, but for some reason I couldn’t have said no if I tried.

Part of me wonders what I’m playing at—what he’s playing at because if I consider this is wrong, what must he be thinking?

He should know this is not a common practise for a teacher.

Inviting their student for pizza on their veranda.

I wonder what his plan is because it’s obvious he has one. I’m not stupid and have always had a heightened perception of situations ever since I was a kid.

He returns with two boxes of pizza and hands me one with a smile.

“I hope you like the toppings, pepperoni with extra tomatoes.”

“My favorite.” I shake my head. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t. It also happens to be my favorite, too.”

As he joins me, the chair dips a little and as his bare leg catches mine, a little more of my soul slips away.

“Are you going to wear your disguise for the entire time?” He jokes and I blush as I pull a piece of pizza apart with my fingers.

“Probably.”

“Are you always so careful?”

“One of us has to be.”

He raises his eyes and I blush a little.

“I mean, wouldn’t you be in trouble if anyone saw us?”

“Why?” He appears genuinely confused.

“We’re having a meeting over pizza regarding the prom. Out in the open with nothing to hide.”

He appears concerned. “Does this make you feel uncomfortable? I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought it did.”

Now I feel stupid and relax a little. “Of course. I’m overthinking it.”

His words reassure me, so I pull off my baseball cap and allow my hair to fall to my shoulders and, for some reason, the air stills. Silence takes charge as we eat in silence and even the birds stay away, creating a cocoon where only we have a key to the door.

I’m aware of the heat from his body as we sit side by side, his leg pressed against mine because it has nowhere else to go. After a while, he says guardedly, “So, ancient Rome. What gave you the idea?”

“I don’t know, really. I watched Gladiator a while ago and loved the staging. I suppose that was fresh in my mind.”

“You’re studying history. What do you want to do when you graduate?”

“I’m not sure. I never really thought about it because the idea of leaving home is a scary one.”

“Where is home?”

I’m careful with my answer.

“Not far from here, as it happens.” I take a deep breath. “Would it shock you to learn I live in a motorcycle club with close to fifty bikers, of which my father is one?”

There’s an awkward silence and I wonder if I’ve shocked the hell into him.

“No.”

I turn to stare into his eyes and swallow hard at the way he is staring into mine.

“No?”

“No, it doesn’t surprise me at all.”

“It should.”

He shrugs. “You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want to do after graduation?”

“I like the idea of teaching.”

He raises his eyes and I add. “Kindergarten mainly. I love young kids and would hope to make a difference to their earlier years.”

“That’s an admirable ambition.”

“What made you decide on teaching, sir?”

“Call me Drake. Sir sounds so formal.”

“But you told me to call you sir.” I remind him of his instruction to the class on the first day.

“Did I?” He shrugs. “If I did, that was before we became friends.”

He grins and raises his soda to mine. “We can be friends. I don’t believe there is anything in the rule book that says otherwise.”

“Of course.” I touch cans with him and lean back, staring at the tree line, loving the privacy this is giving.

“What made you decide on teaching, um, Drake?”

It’s a simple enough question, but he stalls on his answer.

After a while, he says in a low voice, “This is my first job and I kind of fell into it.”

“How?” I’m surprised at that and he leans forward, the can dangling from his fingers as he considers his answer.

It’s as if the air changes and something almost sinister creeps in and then he says carefully, “I’d rather not say.”

“Why not?” I detect tension between us and as he turns, I’m alarmed at the pain I see etched on his face as he whispers, “We all have a past, Imogen. Secrets, things we’d rather not revisit and choose to park for another day.”

My breath hitches as I sense he is clinging to a secret I may not like and yet I’m curious and won’t let this lie.

“Sometimes it helps to talk.”

“Not in this case.”

He shakes his head and takes a swig of soda. “Anyway, we have pie and I kind of love pie.” He winks and as he stands, he drops the can on the table. “I won’t be long.”

As he heads inside, it leaves me with more curiosity than nerves, and I take my chance and follow him inside. Drake is hiding something and I won’t leave until he opens up to me because if I am going to help him, I want to know who I’m dealing with first.