Private Lessons

Chapter 3

Pov: Hope

I lock myself in my room and take the longest shower I've ever had. When I finally finish, I get dressed, then I sit on the edge of my bed, trying to breathe. I am completely humiliated. Of all the people I could have told, it had to be Josie.

Josie.

And she was so kind about it. Of course, she was kind about it. Josie is always kind. But deep down, she must have been upset with me. I liked Josie from the moment I met her. I remember standing in the kitchen of our old apartment at the university, taking a cookie tray with a potato face out of the oven. She looked at me and smiled, and it was as if a spotlight illuminated her. At first I put it down, because she was a girl. But then I discovered that she was a lesbian and I discarded it again, because, let's be honest.

Why the hell would she love me? I'm "Fucking defective" and she loves sex, so what's the point of telling her how I feel about her?

I start listening to another one of my roommates, and Josie's laughter floats through the walls of my room. My little room suddenly feels suffocating.

I put my books in my bag and go to the library. I feel a little calmer after a few hours in the library. It's Saturday morning and most of the students are sleeping, trying to recover from the night before. My boots gently click on the wooden floors as I wander through the history section, looking for a Shakespeare textbook. I need it for my essay, but I can't find it anywhere. I frown, go to the librarian, turn a corner and freeze.

There, standing in the middle of the hallway, is my ex-boyfriend.

Landon.

For a second, I can't move. I just looked at him. He picks up a book, looks at the cover with a frown, then returns it. The movement he makes shows the curvature of his biceps, the muscle bulges in his tight shirt. He looks good. His black hair is a little longer and his skin is tanned. He has clearly been exercising. He doesn't look anything like the eighteen-year-old boy who left me four years ago.

I keep looking at him, suddenly, he looks up.

"Hope?" he asks, I shudder when his voice resounds through the silent library. Is it you?

"Landon?" "I'm on my way home." What are you doing here? I thought you had moved to the United States.

"Oh, yes. I lost my scholarship, so they transferred me back. Anyway, the programs here are better." He looks at me from head to toe. Instantly I realize that I'm not wearing makeup and my hair is still wet. He doesn't seem to care. A slow smile spreads across his face. Shit, Hope. It's been so long. How have you been? You look good.

"Oh. Um. I'm fine.

"Really?" He leans on the shelf. Doing homework?" he asks, I sit down and then he points to the seats.

"Um, actually, I have to go, so I can't stay...

"Wait, wait," he takes a step closer and grabs my wrist. Listen, Hope, I'm so sorry. The way I left you was just... horrible.

"It's okay," I murmured. Everything is in the past.

He shakes his head. His eyes are so beautiful.

"Please. Let me take you to dinner to make up for you. It's been a long time. I would love to know what you have been doing.

I can't believe this is happening. When I was a teenager, I used to dream about this moment, repeating it obsessively in my head. He gets closer, our arms rub and my body responds to how I used to. I close my eyes while the heat takes over my skin. This is the closest thing to the romance I've had in years.