Acting Out [Student/Teacher, GxG]

Spiralling

"You failed the assignment, Miss Harris. You're free to go now." I watched in disbelief as she clenched her jaw — there was no way she was this pissed over me doing a shitty job on an assignment. Not to mention, I'd actually thought my monologue was alright.

"I'm not going anywhere." I challenged her, white knuckling the bottle of Pedialyte in my hand. I may have looked pathetic, but I wasn't going to let her make me into some meek fucking child she could walk all over — I had some dignity left. "I have no experience in acting and you know that. This is hard for me and if you're not going to take that into consideration, I at least deserve an explanation of what I'm doing wrong."

"Why don't you just ask the professional actress you're fucking and stop wasting my time?" She spat before seemingly realizing what she'd just said and breaking away from my gaze. Are you fucking kidding me? I was all at once absolutely furious and completely gutted. How had I allowed myself to put so much stock into what she thought of me?

"Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't sleep with Brielle if that's what this is about." I seethed. "And I have absolutely no interest in getting in the middle of whatever's going on between you two, so leave me the fuck out of it."

Miss Lane seemed to deflate in front of me, her expression softening into something uncertain and I wanted to scream or punch straight through a wall because part of me couldn't help wondering if she was okay. "But I thought —" She started tentatively. As conflicted as I was, I shut off my emotions and steeled myself.

"You thought wrong, Miss Lane." I leaned in — an obvious intimidation tactic, but I wasn't above cheap tricks when I knew they worked. "And if you ever pull something like this again, I'm telling you right now that you will regret it. You may be able to do this," I pointed at the red 'F' next to my name in her open grade book, "but I'm not the only one with something to lose here."

I had absolutely nothing on her and no intention of actually ruining her career, but, judging by the look of pure horror on her face, she didn't know that. She was hiding something, and the fact that I'd unknowingly gotten into her head gave me a sick thrill. The feeling was, however, short-lived.

If she really did have something to hide, threatening her would definitely make her keep her distance, and she wouldn't dare fail me out of her class and risk teaching me again next semester, so I'd pass and move on and that would be that. It was the ideal situation — something I'd have applauded myself for only a week ago — but for some reason the idea just made me feel terribly empty. I wanted to bring back the girl from Friday night who, after all these years in the spotlight, still blushed every time someone paid her a compliment as if it surprised her. I wanted to know her, and more than anything I wanted to believe that I didn't just make her up in my head. It was crazy when I thought about it, but she'd almost reminded me of myself — like she was the person I could've been if things had been different for me all those years ago. I leaned back and took a sip of the electrolyte drink, cursing myself for my inability to let the past go. That was always my problem.

"I'm sorry, Rowan." She whispered, looking up at me with pleading eyes. "I'm sorry."

I'd never cared much for my name until I heard her say it like that and it terrified me that one person could make me feel like nothing and everything within the span of two minutes.

"You're not sorry," I sighed, shaking my head, "you're just scared."

"I'm always a little bit scared." She laughed, and it was such a pitiful sound it made my heart ache. "God, I'm a mess." I frowned at her self-deprecation and she took a breath before continuing. "I meant what I said, Rowan, and I hope you'll believe me when I say that I'm a lot of things but I'm not a liar."

I wanted to believe her, but more than that, I wanted her to cut the shit. She'd been a vindictive bitch for no good reason but the second I confronted her she did a complete 180 and grovelled, making me feel like I was kicking a puppy rather than defending myself, and it wasn't fair. If she was going to start something, she'd have to grow a pair and finish it. I was willing to bet she'd never had to hold her own a day in her life — nobody had the guts to rip into Claire Lane no matter how much she deserved it and that pissed me off more than anything. She'd been deified by us 'normal' people since I was in diapers but she wasn't a God; she was just a person, and probably not even a good one at that.

"So I'm just supposed to assume that my grade has nothing to do with this fun little chat we've been having? Really?" Admittedly, I probably was just awful at acting, but the implied accusation was the only bait I could think of to hopefully get her angry enough to drop her little act. For some reason I just needed to hear something real from her; I needed her to say something and mean it.

If looks could kill, I would've been carted out of the classroom in a body bag. Little did she know, I'd gotten exactly the reaction I wanted. "I don't actually have to justify myself to you, but you should know I didn't create the marking rubric for the assignment. Take it up with Professor Keane if you're that confident you couldn't have possibly failed on your own merit." It wasn't the most scathing statement, but her tone could've sent anyone else running for the door. It may not have been much, but it was something — she was standing her ground.

"So what, they put you up in a hotel, feed you lines... are you getting per diem for living on location? Our lack of catering must be disappointing." I mocked, watching as she fought to keep her composure.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She practically growled.

"Face it, Miss Lane, you're an actor, not a teacher. You can't change that."

She was half way to the door before I could fully process her reaction. She turned to face me and I braced myself for the verbal beat down I was sure to receive for that last comment — even I could admit I'd taken things too far. What I was met with instead was that same achingly hopeless look I'd seen in the hallway on her first day.

"I'm not much of anything lately, am I?" She replied, shaking her head as her voice broke. The sudden realization hit me like a kick in the stomach — I was wrong about her. I had taken one bitchy comment and turned her into something awful in my head and now she was trying to get out of the room before she cried in front of me. What had I done?

"Wait!" I yelled after her, cursing myself for hesitating so long. She was already gone, and I was left alone with my thoughts. I closed my eyes, willing myself to push it all down at least until I could get home and drink myself into forgetting for a while. I hate what I've become.