Beautiful Burn(20)

“Reed.” She whispered my name against the shell of my ear and tears sprung to my eyes when I found myself overcome with emotion. “I'm so sorry I ignored you. I was so overwhelmed, just having you in my life the last few weeks has left me in a tailspin, and it scared me.”

“We can always go at your pace, Auburn. With any of this.” I interjected.

“I know. It's not that we were moving too fast, but just the fact that you were in my life at all. You were so out of reach for so long, suddenly I'm here and you're here and you feel the same way. Everything about it just scared me, and knowing we can't be together, at least not in public, breaks my heart.” Her voice cracked, but after a moment she took a breath and continued. “I feel like there's more going on that you don't want to tell me,” she pulled away and cupped my face in her gentle hands, “but I want you to know I will always, always be here whenever you want to talk. Anytime, day or night, I'll be here.” She finished, a reassuring smile on her face.

“You leave me speechless.” I murmured, ducking my head back into her shoulder and pulling in deep breaths of her soothing scent.

“We should get back,” she said after a few peacefully content minutes. I groaned in protest before loosening my hold on her. No amount of time with her was ever enough.

I gave Auburn's hand one last squeeze before cracking the door. A quick perusal showed no signs of anyone. I pulled Auburn out behind me by a clasped hand, before we both instinctively released when we hit the bright, fluorescent light of the hallway.

When we returned to the classroom, a few students looked up, but most continued writing feverishly. Auburn sat at her desk and looked up at the clock. My eyes followed hers to find we’d been gone for nearly fifteen minutes. I settled behind my desk directly across from Auburn as she picked up her pen and started writing in a flowing longhand that I’d come to recognize after years of teaching her.

At three forty-five, I stood and announced that writing time was over. I cast a glance at Auburn as I explained how far I expected them to read in “Lolita” by the next class, and the few themes I wanted them to think about as they read. My eyes settled on Auburn's again. Her dark eyes looked a little alarmed as she pressed a hand at her neck, rubbing aggressively. My eyes narrowed as I wondered what the hell she was doing, but I continued talking. I dismissed the class and watched as they ambled up and deposited notebooks on my desk. Auburn tossed her's on the desk and shot me a weird glance before rubbing her neck again, then filed towards the door with the others.

“Hi, Reed.” The last student in my class stepped up, clutching her notebook with a wide smile. Oh shit. This didn’t look good.

“Hey, Steph.” I smiled brightly. I'd seen Steph around town for years, but never had the chance to talk with her beyond a causal greeting. “What’s up?”

“I read “Lolita” a few summers ago when Oprah recommended it. I loved it. I totally thought Humbert was a creeper at first, but the way he loved her was so innocent. I think she played him though. She was a first class manipulator—hey, what’s that on your neck?” She leaned in, the heavy odor of her perfume assaulting my nostrils.

“Um…” I ran a hand over the spot on my neck she was eyeing.

“Looks like a bruise.” She frowned before continuing on about “Lolita.” I didn’t hear the rest because suddenly I knew what Auburn had been gesturing to. We’d checked her over, but hadn’t thought to check me. I’d bet my savings that Auburn had left a bruise on my neck when she was sucking. I hadn’t thought she’d done it that hard, but I couldn't remember much considering the level of intensity that had taken us.

“I hate to cut this short but I've got an appointment to get to. Can we continue this discussion during the next class?” All I could think about was bailing out the door and getting to a mirror as quickly as possible.

“Of course.” Steph's eyes darted from the bruise at my neck and back to my gaze. “I just wanted to tell you I was really enjoying it, even on the second read.” She stood waiting a few beats longer than average. “I'm glad. Have a good evening, Steph.” I smiled politely as I watched her leave.

Five minutes later, I slipped behind the wheel of the Blazer and flipped the mirror down. “Son of a bitch.” I swiped at the purpling bruise just above my clavicle. I hoped like hell no one else had noticed that I'd walked out with a perfectly pristine neck and came back fifteen minutes later with a hickey fresh enough to be a darkening shade of eggplant.

***

That evening I laced up my running shoes and pulled the first sleeveless running shirt off the pile of UV-protected tees I'd just purchased and slathered my arms with sunscreen, before taking the steps two at a time for an evening jog. I'd been so busy, and with the last six weeks taking their toll, I'd cut it out completely.