Chapter 22:

" A Lesson Without Words"

The Teacher:

She lingered again.

Of course she did.

She always does.

Tied to me by something she doesn't understand yet

but I do.

I know exactly what it is.

She caught me watching.

Her eyes widened,

like she expected me to be ashamed.

As if this was innocent.

As if I ever let innocence inside this room.

Let her look.

Let her flinch.

Let her wonder why I stare at her

like she's already mine.

I wait.

Like a hunter waits for dusk.

I don't rush these things.

No

I let the anticipation decay into need.

She doesn't know it yet,

but she'll come to me.

Girls like her always do

clever enough to suspect the danger,

soft enough to pretend it isn't real.

I see how her fingers tremble

when she answers in class.

I see how she looks down

but never really away.

So tonight,

I don't just watch her.

I rise.

Quietly.

Unlock the office door.

She's halfway down the hall.

I let my heels echo on the tile

like a promise being made.

Slow.

Measured.

Each step soaked in implication.

She stops.

Doesn't turn.

But I know she hears me.

Her breath hiccups.

Her spine straightens

like she wants to be brave.

I come closer.

Just enough for her to feel me behind her,

to feel the heat between us grow taut.

She says nothing.

Good.

Silence can be more obedient than words.

I reach for her shoulder

fingertips first.

Just a touch.

But it's enough.

She exhales like she's been holding her breath

for three weeks.

"I've noticed,"

I whisper,

"how you look at me."

She turns slowly,

lips parted,

guilt and yearning fighting for a place on her face.

I cup her chin.

Tilt her up.

"No more hiding," I say.

And I lean in

not for her lips

for her mind.

For her weakness.

I want to taste what she's afraid to ask for.

And as she closes her eyes,

as she lets her walls slide down like silk straps,

I realize something:

She may have fallen first

but I'm the one who's going to make sure

she never climbs out.