Status: I don't think I'll continue writing this, so most likely discontinued. :/
It's a Love Story
"into the unknown, I will be bold; I’m going to places I can be out of control"
Juliette’s POV:
“Anything else?” The perpetually scowling waitress asked me, snapping her gum in a thoroughly irritating fashion and looking too bored to deserve a decent tip.
“Just the bill, please, thank you,” I answered, staring down at my unfinished plate of pancakes. After storming out of my parents’ annual Thanksgiving dinner following my little fight with my dad, I’d realized almost right away that I kinda had nowhere to go. I’d ended up driving aimlessly through the empty town. Stores closed, cafes shut down, I kept driving until I found myself at the one place that seemed to stay open on the holiday: the diner.
Despite the fact that I’d lived in Hewlett Bay County most of my life, I’ve never stepped foot in the diner. Sitting in it, I could see why – it was dingy, mildly sketchy, and completely on the other side of town. Which, right then, suited me perfectly fine with me.
“Hey, man, don’t get us kicked out before we even sit down!” I heard a laughing voice behind me exclaim.
“Nah, man – hey! Do you think they have turkey here?” a second voice answered the first, sounding more high than the airplane I had just heard passing by through the open window. I held back a snicker.
“I fucking hope so.” I frowned slightly. That voice sounded vaguely familiar – it was just a little bit hoarse, as if the owner of it spent too much time smoking cigarettes, with a slight Georgia drawl to it that I had come to recognized. Without thinking, I spun around in my seat. “Wolff?” I blurted out.
“Juliette?” He came to an abrupt stop, and his friend crashed into him from behind, muttering, “Jeez, Alex, give a warning.”
I took a good glance at both of them. Wolff was wearing a pair of jeans he would never dare to wear to school – they were seriously scuffed at the bottom, with holes and loose threads everywhere – matched with a beat-up pair of Timberlands and a faded Nirvana shirt. His dark blonde hair was messy, as though he had spent enough time running his hands through those unruly curls to make them even more untidy than usual, his normally clear honey eyes were wide and rimmed with an distinctive red tinge, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. His friend looked equally scruffy, with jet-black hair that was just a little too long and a lazy expression on his face. He was cute, I guess, if you liked that disheveled, unshowered, perpetually stoned look. He caught me looking at him and broke into a smile.
“Hey, there,” he practically leered at me, his eyes ogling my exposed legs.
I crossed my legs smoothly and threw him a dirty look. Before I could bounce back with some nasty remark, Wolff gave him a shove and ordered, “Cut it out, Nick!”
I looked at him, surprised at his sudden protectiveness. He was glaring at his friend, as though trying to silently communicate something with him. Nick gave him a blank look in return. Then his eyes widened – I mean, even wider than they already were. “Dude! You didn’t tell me you had a lady!”
My jaw dropped and I could see heat rising into Wolff’s cheeks. “No! No, man, that’s my fucking student, you dipshit!” he exclaimed, giving him another shove and, I noticed, carefully avoiding looking at me.
“Oh.” Nick swatted Wolff’s hands away and gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry about that.”
They stood there awkwardly in front of me until the gum-snapping waitress broke the silence. “Hey! You boys want a table, or what? I don’t have all fucking day here.”
“Clearly,” Wolff muttered, throwing a significant glance around the empty diner. She glowered at him, as though daring him to contradict her. “Right, okay, uh. Yeah. Hey, Nick, why don’t you go ahead and I’ll come in a second, alright? Go ahead and order,” he added.
They did that utterly boyish high-five, hug kind of thing, and once they’d left, Wolff collapsed into the booth facing me, the aged leather creaking ever so slightly beneath him as I got a good whiff of unmistakable sweet-smelling pot. He rested his elbows on the table. “So.”
“So,” I repeated.
“Sorry about Nick. He’s kinda…” I could almost see him racking his brain with difficulty, and I held back a giggle at how blatantly stoned he was. “Horny,” was all he came up with. “All the time. Are you having the rest of that?” He nodded to my half-eaten plate of blueberry pancakes, the munchies clearly kicking in.
I shrugged. “Go for it.”
He pulled the plate towards him with an alarming enthusiasm and began wolfing down – no pun intended – its contents with the air of someone who hadn’t eaten for several days. “Breakfast for dinner,” he managed, his mouth so incredibly stuffed I didn’t see how it was possible for him to form words. He nodded sagely. “Good choice.”
I giggled and pushed the syrup towards him. He generously poured over the remaining pancake. “When I was little, my mom used to make pancakes for dinner whenever my dad was out of town,” I reminisced. Then I frowned. Funny how all my childhood memories involved my dad not being around.
“Speaking of…” He tapped his fork thoughtfully against the plate – or as thoughtfully as he could with his brain clearly buzzed – as he swallowed his massive bite. “Why are you not with your parents on this family-oriented holiday of thanks?”
I threw him a dirty look – what the fuck did he have anything to do with that? – and shot back with, “ Why are you stoned out of your mind?”
“Uh, excuse me – “ I could see him struggling with a comeback before he gave up. “Whatever,” he drawled, his Southern lilt becoming slightly more pronounced. “Answer my question. It’s more important.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I think mine’s more interesting.” I crossed my arms, smirking devilishly. “Teacher by day at prestigious Vanderbilt Prep Academy, stoner by night, huh? Fascinating.”
Now it was his turn to glare at me. “Hey, I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want on weekends, alright?” he defended himself angrily. Then he sighed, softening. “My bud Nick’s a dealer. And since I’m not home, I went over to his place.”
“Oh, so why aren’t you with your family?” I questioned.
“Hey!” he protested, his eyes wide and round. “You can’t use my question against me!”
“I so can,” I argued back, now thoroughly enjoying this. I leaned forward on the table. “Let’s make a deal. You tell me why you don’t want to be with your family, and I’ll tell you why I don’t, either. Deal?”
He reached his hand out; surprised, I took it and we shook on it. In that moment, as once more his familiar grasp entwined around my slightly smaller hand, with the heat spreading from his charcoal-stained fingertips to my entire body and his momentarily clear honey eyes looking straight into my green ones, I felt a kind of lurch as my heart pumped extra hard and my hand shook faintly. I shrugged it off and broke eye contact as he let go.
“Okay.” He heaved a big sigh and began, “Well, the truth is, I don’t really have a family. Parents – God knows where, and I’m an only child anyway. So I don’t really have anyone to go back to.”
My pale brow furrowed, my expression turning sober, as I considered this. Something about it sounded… off, for some reason. Then my eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “That’s such a lie!” I accused. “I remember you telling our class one time that you have a sister.”
A smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “Wow, you’re attentive.”
I had to look down again, feeling myself blushing. There was something about that easygoing grin, slightly crooked and thoroughly directed just for me, that made my heart thump just a little bit harder than it necessarily should have.
There was something so natural about it, us sitting together like that, as though it was normal for me to be in a diner booth chatting with my teacher, who, by the way, was completely stoned. It just felt… real. Like it was okay to talk to him, like he wasn’t going to turn into someone else I didn’t know once I turned my back. Like I could trust him.
I pushed all these thoughts out of my head and rolled my eyes dramatically. “Come on, just tell me.”
I was expecting him to reply with some smart-ass remark, but instead, something completely different slipped out of those dusty pink lips. “I’m scared.”
He didn’t dare look up as I studied him, surprised at his words. Something close to a vulnerable look had slipped onto his face, making him seem far younger than his twenty-four years and, strangely enough, more fragile than I could have ever imagined him to appear. “Of what?” I finally asked cautiously.
He ignored my question as his fingers unconsciously began ripping out sugar packets from their plastic holder and rearranging them neatly, something I always did when I was nervous. “It hurts too much to go back,” he confessed quietly.
I sat there, utterly puzzled, watching him as he took his fork and used it to push around the remaining syrup on the plate, twirling it around into random circles, anything to avoid looking up. I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that we were out of school, or the THC pumping through his veins that was making him spill secrets faster than the sticky syrup steadily dripping from the plate to the table, but then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the vulnerable look slipped off his face, and his expression returned to one of playful amusement, the nonchalant grin that I was accustomed to sliding onto his face once more.
“Your turn,” he said abruptly, giving me no chance to ask him anything else.
I sighed, relenting. “I just got into this massive fight with my dad,” I told him. “He’s kinda an asshole. But whatever.” I smirked a little, remembering the fight. “I just stormed out of the house in the middle of our Thanksgiving dinner in front of all the guests. Ha.”
He laughed, scrunching his face up as though he was trying to picture the scene. “The famous mysterious dad who’s never home?”
“Yeah.” I sighed again. “He came home for Thanksgiving, just to show everyone how we’re such a ‘perfect family’.” My fingers made mocking air quotes around those last two words, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s just… he wants me to go to Yale. And I want to go to an art school. He just doesn’t seem to get the fact that I do not want to live my life the way he did.” There was a pause between us as he processed my outburst. Then I felt embarrassed at how extraordinary juvenile my problem must have seemed compared to his. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “You’re probably thinking I’m pathetic for making a big deal out of something like this.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied genuinely. “Seriously, Juliette, you don’t need to follow other people’s expectations. You can be whoever you want to be, and fuck them all if they disagree.”
“Thanks, Wolff,” I said, surprisingly touched.
Ten centuries after I had asked for it, the waitress slouched by and slapped the bill onto the table. “Wow, thanks,” I called after her sarcastically. “I was starting to think I was going to have to stay here overnight.”
Wolff chuckled as he reached for the bill. I stared at him incredulously. “What are you doing?”
He gave me an innocent look. “I ate half your pancakes, I should at least pay for it!”
“What? No, Wolff, it’s totally fine.” I tried to take it from him, but he yanked it out of my grasp, pulling out his wallet and throwing some cash in. Before I could protest any further, he smoothly handed it to the waitress passing by. He gave me a what-know? kind of look, and I had to laugh.
“Thanks, Wolff.” I began getting up from the table. “How chivalrous of you.”
He gave me a smirk. “I try.” He stood up too. “Hey, I’ll walk you out.” I must have given him a surprised look, because he added, “From where I come from, a man doesn’t let a beautiful lady walk out by herself, especially at night.” His Southern accent became even stronger, and he shot me a charming smile.
“You’re so full of it, Wolff. What about your friend?” We both looked in the same direction. There was his friend, sitting at one of the booths, flirting outrageously with the sullen waitress, who, surprisingly, was flirting right back.
“Somehow, I think he’ll be okay,” Wolff commented.
We headed out of the diner, Wolff holding the door open for me. I squinted across the parking lot, the darkening sky casting shadows of the lined-up cars in a particularly eerie way. “I forget where I parked…” I absentmindedly stepped back, and found myself almost stepping on Wolff’s toes. “Oh. Sorry.” I hastily turned around to find him looking at me with the strangest expression on his face. “Wolff?”
“Yeah?” he said, and now his voice sounded hoarse.
I stared up at him. His face was in half-shadows, but still his sharp cheekbones gleamed in the darkness, his stubble-covered jaw leading up to his shadowy lips that looked so inviting. Strands of dark blonde hair were falling over his forehead, almost covering those unusually lush eyelashes, but not quite covering his honey-colored eyes that reflected the fluorescent glow and sparkled in the street lamp. He took a step closer to me, and with the splash of harsh light that spilled onto him, I could see the vaguest hint of freckles splattered across his cheeks that I had never noticed before. I took a deep breath to try and steady myself; I could smell the distinctive sweet-smelling pot fume hovering over him, but underneath it, there was something different, a clean, musky cologne with a trace of sandalwood that had clung into the fabrics of his shirt, the pores of his skin.
“Juliette, I’m – I’m just curious…“ His voice trailed off.
“About?” I prompted. I could feel my shallow breath, my heart thudding so embarrassingly hard I was surprised he couldn’t hear me.
“This.” And then he was pulling me in and kissing me, soft and hard at the same time, gentle and longing. I gave in to my hormones and kissed him back, my lips melting into his, a swooping feeling in the pit of my stomach as his hands, feathery soft, flew up my back and into my hair, holding onto hunks of glossy strands. His tongue pushed at my lips, I obliged and let him in, tasting a strangely intoxicating mix of mint, syrup, and pot. I heard a low moan coming from him, an almost primal noise that made me go wild, as I felt rush of heat to my skin and goosebumps rising everywhere he touched me and –
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. I was making out with my teacher. I took a step back, shocked. I stared at him. He looked surprised at his own nerve and vaguely worried, as the realization of what he just did slipped onto his face. “Juliette –“ he began, but I cut him off.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly.
And without a second glance back, I hurried away from him through the parking lot.
“Anything else?” The perpetually scowling waitress asked me, snapping her gum in a thoroughly irritating fashion and looking too bored to deserve a decent tip.
“Just the bill, please, thank you,” I answered, staring down at my unfinished plate of pancakes. After storming out of my parents’ annual Thanksgiving dinner following my little fight with my dad, I’d realized almost right away that I kinda had nowhere to go. I’d ended up driving aimlessly through the empty town. Stores closed, cafes shut down, I kept driving until I found myself at the one place that seemed to stay open on the holiday: the diner.
Despite the fact that I’d lived in Hewlett Bay County most of my life, I’ve never stepped foot in the diner. Sitting in it, I could see why – it was dingy, mildly sketchy, and completely on the other side of town. Which, right then, suited me perfectly fine with me.
“Hey, man, don’t get us kicked out before we even sit down!” I heard a laughing voice behind me exclaim.
“Nah, man – hey! Do you think they have turkey here?” a second voice answered the first, sounding more high than the airplane I had just heard passing by through the open window. I held back a snicker.
“I fucking hope so.” I frowned slightly. That voice sounded vaguely familiar – it was just a little bit hoarse, as if the owner of it spent too much time smoking cigarettes, with a slight Georgia drawl to it that I had come to recognized. Without thinking, I spun around in my seat. “Wolff?” I blurted out.
“Juliette?” He came to an abrupt stop, and his friend crashed into him from behind, muttering, “Jeez, Alex, give a warning.”
I took a good glance at both of them. Wolff was wearing a pair of jeans he would never dare to wear to school – they were seriously scuffed at the bottom, with holes and loose threads everywhere – matched with a beat-up pair of Timberlands and a faded Nirvana shirt. His dark blonde hair was messy, as though he had spent enough time running his hands through those unruly curls to make them even more untidy than usual, his normally clear honey eyes were wide and rimmed with an distinctive red tinge, and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. His friend looked equally scruffy, with jet-black hair that was just a little too long and a lazy expression on his face. He was cute, I guess, if you liked that disheveled, unshowered, perpetually stoned look. He caught me looking at him and broke into a smile.
“Hey, there,” he practically leered at me, his eyes ogling my exposed legs.
I crossed my legs smoothly and threw him a dirty look. Before I could bounce back with some nasty remark, Wolff gave him a shove and ordered, “Cut it out, Nick!”
I looked at him, surprised at his sudden protectiveness. He was glaring at his friend, as though trying to silently communicate something with him. Nick gave him a blank look in return. Then his eyes widened – I mean, even wider than they already were. “Dude! You didn’t tell me you had a lady!”
My jaw dropped and I could see heat rising into Wolff’s cheeks. “No! No, man, that’s my fucking student, you dipshit!” he exclaimed, giving him another shove and, I noticed, carefully avoiding looking at me.
“Oh.” Nick swatted Wolff’s hands away and gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry about that.”
They stood there awkwardly in front of me until the gum-snapping waitress broke the silence. “Hey! You boys want a table, or what? I don’t have all fucking day here.”
“Clearly,” Wolff muttered, throwing a significant glance around the empty diner. She glowered at him, as though daring him to contradict her. “Right, okay, uh. Yeah. Hey, Nick, why don’t you go ahead and I’ll come in a second, alright? Go ahead and order,” he added.
They did that utterly boyish high-five, hug kind of thing, and once they’d left, Wolff collapsed into the booth facing me, the aged leather creaking ever so slightly beneath him as I got a good whiff of unmistakable sweet-smelling pot. He rested his elbows on the table. “So.”
“So,” I repeated.
“Sorry about Nick. He’s kinda…” I could almost see him racking his brain with difficulty, and I held back a giggle at how blatantly stoned he was. “Horny,” was all he came up with. “All the time. Are you having the rest of that?” He nodded to my half-eaten plate of blueberry pancakes, the munchies clearly kicking in.
I shrugged. “Go for it.”
He pulled the plate towards him with an alarming enthusiasm and began wolfing down – no pun intended – its contents with the air of someone who hadn’t eaten for several days. “Breakfast for dinner,” he managed, his mouth so incredibly stuffed I didn’t see how it was possible for him to form words. He nodded sagely. “Good choice.”
I giggled and pushed the syrup towards him. He generously poured over the remaining pancake. “When I was little, my mom used to make pancakes for dinner whenever my dad was out of town,” I reminisced. Then I frowned. Funny how all my childhood memories involved my dad not being around.
“Speaking of…” He tapped his fork thoughtfully against the plate – or as thoughtfully as he could with his brain clearly buzzed – as he swallowed his massive bite. “Why are you not with your parents on this family-oriented holiday of thanks?”
I threw him a dirty look – what the fuck did he have anything to do with that? – and shot back with, “ Why are you stoned out of your mind?”
“Uh, excuse me – “ I could see him struggling with a comeback before he gave up. “Whatever,” he drawled, his Southern lilt becoming slightly more pronounced. “Answer my question. It’s more important.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I think mine’s more interesting.” I crossed my arms, smirking devilishly. “Teacher by day at prestigious Vanderbilt Prep Academy, stoner by night, huh? Fascinating.”
Now it was his turn to glare at me. “Hey, I’m allowed to do whatever the fuck I want on weekends, alright?” he defended himself angrily. Then he sighed, softening. “My bud Nick’s a dealer. And since I’m not home, I went over to his place.”
“Oh, so why aren’t you with your family?” I questioned.
“Hey!” he protested, his eyes wide and round. “You can’t use my question against me!”
“I so can,” I argued back, now thoroughly enjoying this. I leaned forward on the table. “Let’s make a deal. You tell me why you don’t want to be with your family, and I’ll tell you why I don’t, either. Deal?”
He reached his hand out; surprised, I took it and we shook on it. In that moment, as once more his familiar grasp entwined around my slightly smaller hand, with the heat spreading from his charcoal-stained fingertips to my entire body and his momentarily clear honey eyes looking straight into my green ones, I felt a kind of lurch as my heart pumped extra hard and my hand shook faintly. I shrugged it off and broke eye contact as he let go.
“Okay.” He heaved a big sigh and began, “Well, the truth is, I don’t really have a family. Parents – God knows where, and I’m an only child anyway. So I don’t really have anyone to go back to.”
My pale brow furrowed, my expression turning sober, as I considered this. Something about it sounded… off, for some reason. Then my eyes narrowed to suspicious slits. “That’s such a lie!” I accused. “I remember you telling our class one time that you have a sister.”
A smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “Wow, you’re attentive.”
I had to look down again, feeling myself blushing. There was something about that easygoing grin, slightly crooked and thoroughly directed just for me, that made my heart thump just a little bit harder than it necessarily should have.
There was something so natural about it, us sitting together like that, as though it was normal for me to be in a diner booth chatting with my teacher, who, by the way, was completely stoned. It just felt… real. Like it was okay to talk to him, like he wasn’t going to turn into someone else I didn’t know once I turned my back. Like I could trust him.
I pushed all these thoughts out of my head and rolled my eyes dramatically. “Come on, just tell me.”
I was expecting him to reply with some smart-ass remark, but instead, something completely different slipped out of those dusty pink lips. “I’m scared.”
He didn’t dare look up as I studied him, surprised at his words. Something close to a vulnerable look had slipped onto his face, making him seem far younger than his twenty-four years and, strangely enough, more fragile than I could have ever imagined him to appear. “Of what?” I finally asked cautiously.
He ignored my question as his fingers unconsciously began ripping out sugar packets from their plastic holder and rearranging them neatly, something I always did when I was nervous. “It hurts too much to go back,” he confessed quietly.
I sat there, utterly puzzled, watching him as he took his fork and used it to push around the remaining syrup on the plate, twirling it around into random circles, anything to avoid looking up. I wasn’t sure whether it was the fact that we were out of school, or the THC pumping through his veins that was making him spill secrets faster than the sticky syrup steadily dripping from the plate to the table, but then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the vulnerable look slipped off his face, and his expression returned to one of playful amusement, the nonchalant grin that I was accustomed to sliding onto his face once more.
“Your turn,” he said abruptly, giving me no chance to ask him anything else.
I sighed, relenting. “I just got into this massive fight with my dad,” I told him. “He’s kinda an asshole. But whatever.” I smirked a little, remembering the fight. “I just stormed out of the house in the middle of our Thanksgiving dinner in front of all the guests. Ha.”
He laughed, scrunching his face up as though he was trying to picture the scene. “The famous mysterious dad who’s never home?”
“Yeah.” I sighed again. “He came home for Thanksgiving, just to show everyone how we’re such a ‘perfect family’.” My fingers made mocking air quotes around those last two words, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s just… he wants me to go to Yale. And I want to go to an art school. He just doesn’t seem to get the fact that I do not want to live my life the way he did.” There was a pause between us as he processed my outburst. Then I felt embarrassed at how extraordinary juvenile my problem must have seemed compared to his. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “You’re probably thinking I’m pathetic for making a big deal out of something like this.”
“No, I’m not,” he replied genuinely. “Seriously, Juliette, you don’t need to follow other people’s expectations. You can be whoever you want to be, and fuck them all if they disagree.”
“Thanks, Wolff,” I said, surprisingly touched.
Ten centuries after I had asked for it, the waitress slouched by and slapped the bill onto the table. “Wow, thanks,” I called after her sarcastically. “I was starting to think I was going to have to stay here overnight.”
Wolff chuckled as he reached for the bill. I stared at him incredulously. “What are you doing?”
He gave me an innocent look. “I ate half your pancakes, I should at least pay for it!”
“What? No, Wolff, it’s totally fine.” I tried to take it from him, but he yanked it out of my grasp, pulling out his wallet and throwing some cash in. Before I could protest any further, he smoothly handed it to the waitress passing by. He gave me a what-know? kind of look, and I had to laugh.
“Thanks, Wolff.” I began getting up from the table. “How chivalrous of you.”
He gave me a smirk. “I try.” He stood up too. “Hey, I’ll walk you out.” I must have given him a surprised look, because he added, “From where I come from, a man doesn’t let a beautiful lady walk out by herself, especially at night.” His Southern accent became even stronger, and he shot me a charming smile.
“You’re so full of it, Wolff. What about your friend?” We both looked in the same direction. There was his friend, sitting at one of the booths, flirting outrageously with the sullen waitress, who, surprisingly, was flirting right back.
“Somehow, I think he’ll be okay,” Wolff commented.
We headed out of the diner, Wolff holding the door open for me. I squinted across the parking lot, the darkening sky casting shadows of the lined-up cars in a particularly eerie way. “I forget where I parked…” I absentmindedly stepped back, and found myself almost stepping on Wolff’s toes. “Oh. Sorry.” I hastily turned around to find him looking at me with the strangest expression on his face. “Wolff?”
“Yeah?” he said, and now his voice sounded hoarse.
I stared up at him. His face was in half-shadows, but still his sharp cheekbones gleamed in the darkness, his stubble-covered jaw leading up to his shadowy lips that looked so inviting. Strands of dark blonde hair were falling over his forehead, almost covering those unusually lush eyelashes, but not quite covering his honey-colored eyes that reflected the fluorescent glow and sparkled in the street lamp. He took a step closer to me, and with the splash of harsh light that spilled onto him, I could see the vaguest hint of freckles splattered across his cheeks that I had never noticed before. I took a deep breath to try and steady myself; I could smell the distinctive sweet-smelling pot fume hovering over him, but underneath it, there was something different, a clean, musky cologne with a trace of sandalwood that had clung into the fabrics of his shirt, the pores of his skin.
“Juliette, I’m – I’m just curious…“ His voice trailed off.
“About?” I prompted. I could feel my shallow breath, my heart thudding so embarrassingly hard I was surprised he couldn’t hear me.
“This.” And then he was pulling me in and kissing me, soft and hard at the same time, gentle and longing. I gave in to my hormones and kissed him back, my lips melting into his, a swooping feeling in the pit of my stomach as his hands, feathery soft, flew up my back and into my hair, holding onto hunks of glossy strands. His tongue pushed at my lips, I obliged and let him in, tasting a strangely intoxicating mix of mint, syrup, and pot. I heard a low moan coming from him, an almost primal noise that made me go wild, as I felt rush of heat to my skin and goosebumps rising everywhere he touched me and –
Suddenly, I realized what I was doing. I was making out with my teacher. I took a step back, shocked. I stared at him. He looked surprised at his own nerve and vaguely worried, as the realization of what he just did slipped onto his face. “Juliette –“ he began, but I cut him off.
“I have to go,” I said abruptly.
And without a second glance back, I hurried away from him through the parking lot.
♠ ♠ ♠
I am so, so, SO insanely sorry for the lack of updates.Things came up after another, and I had some writer's block for half the summer, and then when I finally wrote the chapter I didn't like it, so I rewrote everything in Juliette's POV (it was in Alex's before). But here's a nice long update to make up for it.
Anyway, I really really really hope you like this, I've been waiting for this chapter since I first started the story.
As always, thanks for reading.