I Won't Give Up (Teacher/Student)

Chapter 4

Four

I woke up and attempted to stretch my arms over my head. I felt an unfamiliar weight on my chest and looked down to find Mr. Livingston laying on my chest with his arm wrapped around my stomach. I shifted slightly and he wrapped his arm tighter around my waist.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, not knowing how I got into this position. It had only been a couple of weeks into the school year and I was in bed with a guy I barely knew who also happened to be my teacher.

"You're squishing me," I said. "Hello." Mr. Livingston didn't respond, but he shifted closer to me. I wasn't a big fan of cuddling, at most I could probably do it for ten minutes without feeling hot or trapped.  "Wake up!" I shouted and nudged him and he jumped up.

"Shit, Diem! Why didn't you tell me to get off?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I tried telling you, guess you just couldn't resist." He rolled his eyes and moved to the other side of the bed. He pulled the comforter off of himself and stretched in bed.

"You know, you're a really messy sleeper," I said.

"Yeah, well you snore."

"I do not!"

"Oh, yes you do, and sometimes it gets loud. I wanted to push you off the bed last night," he said.

"Yeah, well maybe you should've pushed me off. I would've had more room on the floor." I forced myself to get up and went to the bathroom to shower.

I came out twenty minutes later and found Mr. Livingston and Jackson sitting at the kitchen table. I grabbed a bowl and poured myself some cereal, frowning because Mr. Livingston apparently liked Cheerios of all things. What was wrong with this guy?

"So, how'd you two love birds sleep?" Jackson asked. He sat shirtless at the table and his hair stood up in different directions. I swirled my spoon in my cereal and looked him over. Had I known him when I was younger and just couldn't remember? Jackson was only twenty-one, three years older than me, and Mr. Livingston was three years older than him. I imagined us all playing together whenever our parents visited each other, but I had no memories of them or their family. They seemed to know my dad well, but I wouldn't be able to pick their parents out of a crowd.

"I would have slept better on the couch," I said, finally answering him. Mr. Livingston agreed with me and then gulped the remaining milk in his bowl. I should probably call him Caden, but I was starting to like calling him by his last name.

I poured myself another bowl of cereal and they both stared at me as I ate. Milk dripped down my chin and I used the end of my sleeve to wipe it down.

"Could you have poured yourself any more cereal?" Jackson asked.

"Yes," I said, taking another spoonful. "And if I'm still hungry after this bowl, I'll get another. What do you expect when my only option is Cheerios, anyway? I imagine this is what it would be like to eat paper for breakfast."

"Hey! Cheerios are a classic. And they're good for your heart," Mr. Livingston said.

"Having to add spoonfuls of sugar to give it taste is real healthy," I said.

"No one told you to do that."

"My tastebuds did." 

"Anyway," Jackson said, dragging the word out.  "What are we going to do today?" He put his bowl in the sink and plopped down on the couch just as my phone rang. I groaned internally when I saw Dustin's name flash across the screen. We often spent our weekends together, but I didn't want to be anywhere near him.