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My stomachtightens and I dig my nails into his arms.
After I recover, he stands up and steadies my body against the bookcase.
In silence, we stare at each other, waiting for the braver person to speak first.
“I miss talking to you at night.” I speak before he can. “I’m sure it’s probably mindless blabbering about topics you’ve studied long ago for you, but it means a lot to me. So, trust me, if you never touch me again, I’ll understand that. I won’t like it, but I’ll understand.”
“But if you stoptalkingto me, just about all the things we have in common, yanking away your friendship because you think I’m vengeful enough to burn bridges with the only friend I’ve ever had…” My voice cracks. “I won’t understand that at all.”
He stares at me, his face expressionless.
“I know what I did with the confessions essay was immature,” I say. “But I couldn’t think of any other way to get your attention, and I’m not sorry. I just wanted you to talk to me.”
He hasn’t even blinked.
“Are you planning to say something, Mr. Donovan?”
“It’sLiam,” he says, picking up my panties and stuffing them into his pocket. “Call me 'Liam' whenever we’re not in class.”
“Does that mean you’re done denying me?”
“It means I’ll call you tonight.”
9
LIAM
Late December
“Let me explain what I meant when I said, the ‘greatest admissions essay of all time.’” Charlotte Vaughn is holding me hostage in my office. “I want endless paragraphs about how amazing my persuasive skills are, sentences so damn eloquent and breathtaking that the admissions office has to mark ‘Yes’ on my application before they reach the end of them.”
“Miss Vaughn, I’ve told you—”
“I want you to paint a picture of the perfect student, someone who makes you feel like you’re blessed to teach in their presence…”
I lean back in my chair as she continues to berate me.
Unfortunately, her father did call my grandfather about this, but I’m putting it off for as long as possible. Miss Vaughn is a C plus student at best, and I feel like I’d be setting her up to fail if I wrote too many glowing words.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear.” She picks up her purse. “Perhaps you should ask Santa for some superior essay writing skills for Christmas.”
Get the hell out of my office.“Will do. Happy holidays, Miss Vaughn.”
She rolls her eyes at me as she leaves.
Not interested in meeting with anyone else before the break, I stand to my feet, but Genevieve steps inside.
“Happy holidays,” she says, holding out a red box.
“I told you not to buy me anything.”
“That’s why Imadeit. It’s also the same gift you gave me back before. You never opened it, so it doesn’t count.”
“Fair enough.” I smile. “Do you want me to open it now or later?”
“Now is good.”
“Of course.” I unwrap it, coming face to face with a beautiful glass snow globe. Inside, a teacher and a student bear our likenesses. The teacher’s hands are wrapped around the student’s waist, and her arms are draped around his shoulders. A couple of books lay open on the ground, with a tinyIron Giantfigurine standing guard next to them.
