My Teacher and I

Chapter Sixteen

The moment hung between us, charged with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Mathew's breath was warm against my cheek, and I could see the swirl of emotions playing out in his eyes—relief, desire, regret.

"Atticus..." he started, but I cut him off, not ready for a conversation that might complicate everything again.

"Let's not talk about it right now," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I didn't want to break the spell we had just woven; I wanted to stay in this bubble of connection, even if just for a moment longer.

He nodded slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, tentative smile. "Okay. But I don't want you to think this changes everything, or that it doesn't matter."

I sighed, feeling the weight of his words. "I know. I just... I'm not ready for all the implications. I just needed this."

"Me too," he admitted, running a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture I found oddly endearing. "But I don't want you to think it's just a one-time thing. I care about you, Atticus. I always have."

I felt a flutter in my chest at his confession, but the memories of our earlier conflicts held me back. "Then why did you hurt me?" I asked, the hurt creeping back into my voice despite my efforts to keep it steady.

"I was scared," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "I didn't know how to handle everything. Being your teacher and... feeling something for you was overwhelming. I thought pushing you away would be easier."

"Easier for who?" I shot back, a hint of frustration breaking through. "It hurt me, Mathew. It made me feel like I wasn't worth your time."

"I know," he said, his expression pained. "And I'm sorry for that. I'm trying to figure it out, to figure us out. But I don't want to lose you again."

The vulnerability in his eyes struck a chord within me. Maybe we could navigate this, step by step, together. "I'm not ready to forgive you completely, but I don't want to push you away either," I admitted, my voice softening.

Mathew took a deep breath, and his gaze softened. "That's all I ask for. Just... let's take it slow. We can figure it out as we go."

I nodded, appreciating his honesty. "Okay, slow sounds good."

"Let's get you back to your room before someone sees us," he said, a hint of mischief returning to his tone. "I'd hate for our secret rendezvous to become a scandal."

"Yeah, because nothing says 'secret' like being caught in the hallway," I laughed, feeling lighter now.

As we walked together, our shoulders brushing against each other, I couldn't help but feel hopeful. Maybe we could turn this complicated situation into something meaningful.

Once we reached my door, I turned to face him, a smile breaking across my face. "Thank you for catching me earlier. I guess you're good for something after all, Mr. Harris."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "And thank you for not pushing me away. Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"Don't let this moment change how you feel about our dynamic. I don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

"Deal," I said, feeling a sense of camaraderie returning.

With one last lingering look, I opened the door and stepped inside, glancing back at him. As I closed the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, we were on the brink of something new—something that could heal the wounds we both carried.

As I leaned against the closed door, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My heart raced with a mix of anxiety and excitement, the weight of our conversation settling in, but also the hope of what was to come. Once I was alone in my room, I leaned against the door, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. The brief moment with Mathew lingered in my mind, filling me with both hope and confusion. I thought about what he had said—how he didn't want to lose me, how he cared about me.