MySpace: A Place For Teachers

There were no words to describe how utterly shocked I was.

“I, um” was perhaps the only form of an intelligible sentence that I could muster.

Brian looked angry, yes, but deep within his chocolate-brown irises was betrayal, and more prominent than anything – fear.

After what seemed to be several minutes, he said, “Fuck,” and ran his hands through his tangled spikes of hair.

I calmed down. “How did you know?”

He stared. “How did I know? Well, I could see you from the front of the school building.

“Oh.”

“I could get fired for this,” he mumbled, distressed.

“Not if you keep it quiet,” I suggested.

“Yeah, I'll really broadcast this through the school,” he snapped.

I sighed. I knew this wasn't a big deal, because he hadn't called me and e-mailed me knowing that I was his students. He was much more embarrassed than angry. Embarrassed enough for both of us.

“Look. This wasn't really my idea, it was – ”

“Your gay boyfriend's. Am I right?” He was trying oh so hard not to smirk.

I nodded. I almost wanted to bring up the tiny detail he had kissed me only minutes before. That would just add to his embarrassment, although I couldn't see how at this point.

“Can we talk?” Brian asked. “I mean, we could go to a coffee shop or something.”

I cringed. “How about a little less public.”

He smirked. There's that smirk I've come to love.

“Would you like a ride?”

“No, I think I'll walk alongside the car.”

**

Brian drove us to a small town by the name of Clearwater. It was a tiny, run-down town that contained a grocery store, and a few connected stores. Brian parked his car around the back of a shop that had been closed down for months.

“Why did you drive us up here?” I questioned as I dragged myself through the rocks.

He shrugged. “Seemed a good place as any.”

“Uh huh.. What did you want to talk about?” I shot back.

He frowned. “Oh, nothing. It's not as if something important just happened or anything.”

“It's as much your fault as it is mine,” I said.

He buried his hands deep within his hoodie pockets. He was frustrated, that much I knew. I had no idea what thoughts were coursing through his mind, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to know. He seemed quite unstable at that moment.

I was backed up casually against the wall, my foot propped up behind me against the concrete. I was content with watching him as he thought out his anger. I wished with all my heart that I could hear what he was thinking.

To hear if he liked me, at least a little bit.

I closed my eyes, as if really wishing, and opened them. Brian was standing directly in front of me, eyes serious as a heart attack.

He lifted a finger and touched her cheek gently. “What are you thinking?” he whispered.

I looked up at him, weariness present in my irises. “This,” I swallowed. “This is illegal.”

“Not if you don't want it to be,” he murmured. “Do you?”

“No,” I whispered.

“Good.”

He sighed, and came inches from leaning his forehead against mine. At least, I thought he was going to do that. Instead, he inhaled and exhaled.

“Just … Don't move, okay?”

I didn't have the chance to nod before his lips crashed down on my own. It wasn't painful, but it wasn't comfortable, either. I wasn't prepared, and he was trying to suffocate me with his mouth, it seemed like.

But I responded.

Our lips moved together almost sloppily. I could tell he was very apprehensive. He placed a trembling hand on my right hip, and his other hand stayed on my cheek firmly. I placed my hands right below his shoulders.

We broke away as we registered the severity of our situation. This was no doubt illegal, no matter what he told me. I was shaking by now, and his eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment.

I knew he liked me. He had told me himself, but now I was starting to believe what he said. I couldn't understand that at all. I guess it's always the quiet ones.

His expression turned blank after he pulled away. He motioned for me to get into his car. I obeyed.

It was a long, silent drive home.

He didn't say a word to me as I got out of his car half a block to my apartment. All he did was follow me with his eyes. At that point, I didn't mind. I was feeling nothing but numb. I felt as though I was his pleasure doll, even if he had only kissed me twice.

When I opened the front door to find the one person I did not expect to be sitting on my couch.

“Mom?” I asked, completely blown away.

“Hi, sweetheart,” she chirped as she enveloped me in a hug.

I was shocked. She had told me she was spending another week in Washington on her business trip.

“I – I didn't expect you back so soon,” I mumbled.

She waved it off. “Oh, well, your father said he had everything taken care of in Washington, and I thought I'd come back and see how you were.”

“I'm fine,” I snapped. “Just like all the other times you left me to fend for myself.”

Her eyes suggested she was hurt. I felt guilty, but not enough to apologize. I had been through too much in the prior hours to deal with a matter as trivial as this was.

For dramatic effect, I stormed up to my room, not bothering to slam my door, but close it and lock it.

I had a lot of shit to deal with lately.

I lied on my bed for what seemed like hours, I may have even dozed off a few times, because there was a plate of cold pasta on my bed-side table. I started eating almost immediately.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

I jumped up and ran for the door, anxious for any distraction I could get at that moment. I had no idea just how big the distraction would be.

My mom was seated on the couch, and she tossed me a small smile, which I half returned. She let me answer the door, calming waiting.

I opened the door, and there stood Mason, bruises and and shallow cuts marring his tear-stained face. The skin on his arms bore nasty looking gashes, and blood flowed steadily from a few. He was shaking, and his lower lip was busted and trembling.

I gasped.

Mason ran through the threshold and crashed into me, sobbing in the crook of my neck. I wrapped my arms as tightly as I could around his back without hurting him. I stroked his hair softly.

“He hit me,” he sobbed.