So it goes [Breakable Heaven #1]

22. A momentary lapse of judgment

Rory must have lied. She didn't use to be a gymnast, but a damn runner, that's for sure.

When the lessons finished, she disappeared from the school to her car and out of the gate faster than Usain freaking Bolt. Gymnast my ass!

I text her as soon as I get home. She reads it, but she doesn't reply. I try phoning her, and she rejects the call. It pisses me off to no end.

I spend the night half asleep and half awake, feeling Rory on my lips, torn between wanting, needing to feel her everywhere, and the anger for the way she is avoiding talking to me.

The next morning I arrive at school early, sleep-deprived but dead set on getting Rory to talk to me. I sit down at the table in the backyard despite the chilly morning air, light a cigarette and wait. I know her schedule pretty well, as we discussed it just yesterday morning, so I'm sure she'll be here soon.

I'm halfway through my second cigarette when the gate opens and Rory's car makes its way into the parking lot. She gets out of it and, the moment she sees me, she barely says hello to me and hurries to go inside.

"Don't you think we should talk about it?" I call after her, determined not to make her go away.

She stops dead in her track, but doesn't turn around to face me. "Talk about what?"

I roll my eyes. I don't like when people play dumb, especially when they're not dumb at all.

"Gee, I don't know... maybe the fact that yesterday you pushed me into the restroom in between lessons and shoved your tongue down my throat?"

I can see her body becoming stiff. She wasn't expecting me to be so blunt, especially after I let what happened at the Murder Mystery dinner slide, and I have never mentioned our heavy flirting.

"I didn't... I... we're not talking about this, so don't ever mention it again. It was a momentary lapse of judgment and there is absolutely nothing to talk about. Understood?"

Even if I did know how to reply, she wouldn't give me time to do it. She turns around just to give me a look that seems so final, then storms into the school and goes on with her day as if nothing happened, as if she hadn't just killed something that didn't even have a fair chance to be born. I stare at the empty spot on the ground where she was standing and the last thing I want is to get in there and pretend that everything is fine, that it's just another day, another lesson, when the one person who had started to make me feel alive after months of feeling dead inside is sitting in the classroom in front of mine, after she has just dismissed my only moment of joy in months as a momentary lapse of judgment.

I should have known. Straight girls are like that. They get curious, they flirt, they lure you in because they feel flattered by another woman's attention, because they enjoy the power they have over you, and then they take a step back and make you feel like it was all in your mind, like you've gone too far. I should have known, it was my fault.

It's ok, though. Now I know, and I will steer clear of her as much as humanly possible when sharing the same space thirty-eight hours a week. I am so done with Rory Davila.

Three hours later, the director of the school calls me into her office, and I wonder what she can possibly want from me. The last time I was in there, she asked me to add four more hours a week to my schedule. I don't think I can work any more than I already do.

"Sasha, please take a seat. First of all, I want you to know that I really appreciate the work you're doing for the school. The students love you and there's nothing but good things to say about you. The reason I asked you here is that it has been brought to my attention that you are giving private lessons outside the school, and unfortunately this is something we can't accept here. I know you're preparing a student for the IELTS examination, which is a course that we offer here, and you can understand that it's not fair, since you have a contract with us and we give you your visa to stay in Spain."

I feel my heart pounding in my chest. She can't fire me. I can't go back to the US, I have nothing to go back to. And everything I've been through, everything I've lost so I could be here, it would all be in vain.

"I... I'm sorry, I didn't know..." I stammer, confused and scared.

"You signed a contract, Sasha. It was stated very clearly that you can't work for anybody else," the director's voice is firm but kind.

"But I'm not," I protest, feeling a little calmer now that she has specified that I can't work for anyone else. "Look, I don't know what you've heard, but I am not working for anybody else. Yes, I am preparing someone for the IELTS test, but that someone is my friend Alejandro, and he doesn't pay me for it. Well, I mean, he pays me in really good meals and beer, but that's it. I'm doing a favor to a friend, nothing more."

The director looks stunned. She was clearly given the wrong information.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but that's not what I was told. In that case, there's nothing with it. I can't do anything if you decide to help a friend during your free time without being paid. I'm sorry, Sasha, I didn't want to scare you or waste your time."

"It's someone else who should be sorry," I think, but don't say it out loud. Instead, I shook my head. "No harm no foul. I'm sorry you were misinformed, I really don't know how it could have happened. Maybe SOMEONE heard it wrong and reported it to you in the same way. I swear I wouldn't do anything to put my position here in jeopardy."

She apologizes again and confirms to me that she really enjoys working with me and that she would like to have me on her staff for as long as I wish, then I am free to leave.

There are only three people who know about me giving lessons to Alejandro: Alejandro himself, Jean, and Rory. I am pretty sure I know who is responsible for my latest five minutes of panic.

This is so typical of the Trybrid Bitch - this scheming, this pettiness. I thought she was different, but apparently, I was mistaken. It took her five minutes of us not being on friendly terms anymore to go to the director and talk trash about me. Again, I should have known. Jean has warned me multiple times not to trust her, yet I have never listened. What's that say? Fool my once, shame on you; fool me twice... wait! There's something fishy here.

While I was the one who gave her the Trybrid Bitch nickname in the first place, I also know that the past few months haven't been a grand scheme to gain my trust and then stab me in the back. It doesn't make any sense, as she, too, has confided in me more than once. She wouldn't have done it if she hadn't really felt like we were friends. And then that kiss and this morning's speech... they don't add up, unless...

The first time I felt really attracted to a girl I was fifteen. She was in school with me and I hated her guts; except I didn't hate her, I wanted her. I was so into her it scared me and for that reason, I used to treat her like crap, because I resented her for making me feel something I absolutely shouldn't have felt. Not for another girl, at least. It went on for months, months of me almost torturing her until I finally admitted to myself that I liked her. I am absolutely not proud of the way I acted and how I treated the poor girl, and I apologize profusely to her, but somehow that behavior was just what my subconscious had told me to do to protect myself from the scariest truth of all.

Now, if for Rory our kiss had actually been just a momentary lapse of judgment, then why going to the director to rat me out like that, accusing me of something I didn't even do? What'd be the point? She could have just ignored me, like a real fucking adult, instead of acting like a teenage bitch.

A smirk appears on my face. It's all clear now: Rory is attracted to me. She's so attracted to me she's scared to death and she felt the need to make me pay for it.

Now I just need to decide what to do with that information.