"I guess you better get used to my face Mr Kane."
"It's not a pleasant one, but I'll get used to it."
. . .
REMAINING CHAPTERS ON INKITT!
When Lina Ta...
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The remainder of the holiday stretched before me like an unending stretch of boredom, and I despised every solitary minute I wasted in this place.
A mistake.
That's what he called it. And if he believed it was a mistake, then that's precisely what it was. I refused to shed tears over it. I never allowed myself the luxury of repeating my mistakes, even though the unsettling feeling lingered, a constant thorn in the fabric of my thoughts.
Despite my resolve, my eyes involuntarily sought him out. It was as if an invisible thread connected us, refusing to release its grip. Penelope, oblivious to the internal turmoil, prattled on about her romantic escapades with Jim. They shared their second kiss during dinner, she recounted, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of newfound love.
I feigned interest in her tale, but my mind wandered, my gaze inevitably drawn back to him.
"I'll send you a message once I arrive at the university." I hear Mr Kane speak to Ms Anderson.
"Perfect, I will see you both there!"
Ms Anderson gets onto the coach, which drives off to the airport whilst I shove my bag into the trunk of Mr Kanes car. I then make my way to the front, sitting down and putting my seatbelt on as he also slides inside. As I made my way to the front and settled into the passenger seat, the air inside the car felt charged with unspoken words.
Mr. Kane slid into the driver's seat, his hands deftly starting the car. The engine's hum provided a backdrop to the palpable silence that enveloped us. He reversed out of the parking space with one hand, his gaze focused on the road ahead.
The passing scenery became a blur, and a heavy silence hung in the air, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of the tires on the asphalt. I could feel his eyes on me, a weighty gaze that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.
Breaking the silence, I decided to address the unspoken tension. "So, about what happened," I began, choosing my words carefully.
Mr. Kane's grip on the steering wheel tightened imperceptibly, but he didn't interrupt. The road stretched ahead, a metaphor for the distance between us.
"I understand your perspective," I continued, my voice steady, "but it wasn't a mistake for me."
"Miss Tate—"
"Lina." I respond.
"Miss Tate—"
"Say my name, Mr. Kane."
"Lina, just stop." His plea carried a hint of frustration, the tension in the car escalating. "Don't you understand this is wrong? You are my student—"
"No one needs to know," I whispered, the words hanging in the air like a fragile secret.
Just like he doesn't need to know that he was my first kiss.
