Five
"Romance or horror?" Mr. Livingston asked. He was standing in front of the TV, scrolling through the options.
"Actually, I hate horror. It's boring, the characters are stupid, and the cute guys always die so there's no point in watching." I reached for a bowl of chips and laid back on the couch, extending my legs across it. "I prefer a comedy."
"Yeah, you don't look like you get much romance in your life."
"You get enough for both of us."
"Well, I think I want horror."
"You're just doing that because I said I hate it!"
He chose some random horror movie and walked back to the couch. He lifted my bare legs and sat down. Before I could pull my legs back, he placed them in his lap. His hand settled on my ankle and his thumb lightly traced circles across my skin. Despite him only touching a small part of me, I felt it everywhere. It crawled up my legs, to my stomach, and finally settled as a lump in my throat, making it difficult to breathe or swallow.
He briefly looked over at me and smiled. "Don't be mad, Diem. We'll watch a comedy, too."
I wasn't mad. How could I be mad when I could barely concentrate on anything with his hands on my legs? Forcing myself to look at the screen, I watched as a girl got out of her car and approached a not-so-friendly noise.
"You see what I mean? Any normal person would lock themselves in the car and wait for help, but being an idiot, she decides to go to the noise! Who does that? I can't even do laundry in my basement without getting scar-"
"If I wanted to listen to you all night, I wouldn't have put a movie on."
I squinted my eyes at Mr. Livingston. He clearly didn't understand that I was the one in a position of power here. All I needed to do was slightly jerk my legs downward and hit him in an unpleasant area. Deciding to be nice instead, I reached for the pillow underneath me and chucked it at him. His hold on my ankle tightened and his fingers slid across my calf as he ducked. I pulled my legs back quickly, feeling the lump in my throat grow larger and my heart race against my chest.
I stayed that way for the rest of the movie, only sparing Mr. Livingston a glance occasionally. There were times when the movie actually scared me, but I didn't want to show it, so I went on my phone, or went to refill my water. When it finished, I grabbed the remote before he could and scrolled through the other movies.
"Did you ever watch 21 Jump Street?" He shook his head and my eyes widened. "What! You haven't lived life!"
"Wait, why are you picking a movie you've already watched?"
"Because you haven't watched it, and it's worth it."
Mr. Livingston laughed throughout the movie. His laugh was one of those loud and deep ones that came from your belly and filled the entire room. I looked over at him and smiled, feeling myself laugh too. His eyes bounced from the screen and his hands were resting on his stomach, rubbing it whenever he found something funny. He looked over at me and smiled briefly before turning back to the TV.
"I love this part," I whispered, cringing a little as I watched the characters shove their fingers down each other's throat to throw up. By the end of the movie, we were both tired and yawning. I stood up from the couch and extended my hand to him.
"Let's go to bed, not-so-slim shady."
He laughed and pulled himself up. I wasn't sure if Jackson was coming to spend the night tonight, but I was already accustomed to sleeping with Mr. Livingston. It still felt weird at times for me to share his bed and feared that I would do something stupid in my sleep or cross over onto his side.
After finishing my night-time routine, I walked out of the bathroom and into the room just as Mr. Livingston was pulling his shirt off, leaving him only in his pajama bottoms. His broad shoulders and back flexed as he pulled the cotton over his head and threw it onto the floor. I looked away quickly and went to my side of the bed.
I spent the first ten minutes just staring at the ceiling and then another ten minutes trying to get comfortable. Cassie would always complain that I moved too much whenever I slept over, but I couldn't help it. There was that one perfect position, but it was never easy to get. I truly envied people who could just lay down and fall asleep within minutes.
I twisted around in the bed, starting on my left side and extending my leg so that my back would crack. The position still felt off, even with my hand underneath the pillow and my legs stretched out. I turned around on the opposite side, repeating the entire process, but it still didn't help.
"Diem, stop freaking moving. I can't sleep because of it."
I tried to stay still for as long as possible. Five minutes had passed and Mr. Livingston's breathing became slower and heavier. When I thought it was safe, I slowly shifted again, and again, and again.
Nope, that's not right... How about...No not that either...
"Alright, that's it!" His voice filled the silent room and he turned around quickly, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his bare chest. My mouth fell open but I couldn't speak because I was too focused on the fact that my back was pressed fully against him.
His mouth was near my ear now and his voice was thick with sleep. "If I have to sleep like this for the rest of the time you're here, so be it."
"I'm sorry," I said, trying to push myself up with my arm, "I'll go on the couch, everyone hates the way I sleep."
I went to move my legs, but Mr. Livingston's arms tightened on my waist and pulled me back against him. He said nothing else and I sank back into the bed and tucked one arm under my pillow and the other against my rapid heart.
That night, I had found the most comfortable position.
***
The next morning, I woke up in a much less pleasant way than I had gone to sleep.
"Wake up!" A rough voice shouted into my ear and I sprang up from the bed and swang my fist through the air, making contact with something sharp. I heard a small groan and then, "Shit Diem."
I opened my heavy eyes to see Mr. Livingston leaning forward, rubbing his jaw. Serves him fucking right for thinking he could wake me up like that. I grabbed onto my pillow and swung it at him, only to have him extend his arm and block the blow.
"Don't 'Shit, Diem' me, what did you expect waking me up like that? You're lucky it wasn't worse."
"Go get dressed," he ordered, tilting his head to my suitcase. I pursed my lips and laid back down, holding myself up with my elbow and resting my head against my hand.
"The only room where you can order me around in is your classroom, and even then I put up a good fight," I said winking.
Mr. Livingston raised his eyebrow and leaned forward, pushing his fists into the mattress. He brought his face close to mine and looked me over. His eyes followed a slow and agonizing path, leaving my body warm wherever they touched. He finally looked back up at me and smiled.
"By the time I get out of the shower you better be dressed."
I watched him leave the room and fell back onto the bed, pulling the pillow over my face. I did not have the hots for my teacher. No way in hell was I starting to feel things for that cocky bastard. I thought back to last night and how good it felt to fall asleep against him. I wouldn't mind falling asleep that way every night, but that can't happen.
Mr. Livingston came back into the room twenty minutes later, fiddling with his tie. I still hadn't gotten dressed but instead spent most of the time staring at the pair of jeans across the room, willing for them to somehow levitate over to me and put themselves on.
Mr. Livingston looked up from his tie and saw me in bed. "You're still not dressed!"
"Need help?" I asked, nodding towards his tie.
"I can usually do it, but this stupid thing." He dropped his hands to his side and looked back at me desperately. I got onto my knees and stepped closer to the edge of the bed, motioning for him to come closer with my finger. He stood in front of me, still slightly taller than me as I kneeled on the bed.
Mr. Livingston looked down at me as I pulled the tie off of him and fixed the collar of his shirt first. I had enough practice with ties from my father who was utterly hopeless most of the time. I ran my fingers across the tie and then wrapped it around him, tugging it lightly to bring him a little closer. I ignored the fresh scent of his shampoo that filled my nose immediately after.
After looping the tie, I grabbed onto the knot and tightened it a little more than I should have, thinking back to how rudely he woke me up this morning. Mr. Livingston coughed and grabbed onto my wrist, his eyes wide. I smiled up at him and loosened it some more.
"My bad. Guess I'm a little rusty."
He walked over to my clothes and grabbed the pair of jeans, tossing them over at me.
"Do you need help getting dressed too?"
"I'll be sure to call for you if I have any trouble."
He nodded and went over to the dresser, grabbing his bag. He pulled out a folder that contained student lab reports and sat on the counter, flipping through the pages. He pulled the cap off a red pen and held the pen between his lips as his eyes scanned the reports.
I cleared my throat loudly and held my jeans in the air, but he only looked up at me briefly before returning his gaze to the papers.
"Are you going to get out or what?" I asked.
"No," he dragged the word out slowly, still not looking up. "This is my room."
"And I'm telling you to get out."
"You get out, and quiet down I can't concentrate with your nagging."
Oh, I'll show you a distraction.
I stepped off the bed and walked to the middle of the room. My fingers went to the hem of my t-shirt and pulled the fabric slowly up my body. Mr. Livingston hadn't looked up yet, so I pulled the shirt over my head and tossed it in his lap, covering the papers.
"Hey—" He cut his words short when his eyes met mine. They left my face and looked down at my chest, only covered by a black bra that pushed my breasts slightly together.
His eyes then followed my hands as they reached the waistband of my shorts. I tugged them slightly down, revealing only my hip bone and the lining of my panties.
His eyes flew back up to mine, his jaw set.
"If you want me to leave, that is not the way to do it."
His voice was low and strained, almost as if he was in pain, and his eyes were clouded from an emotion that I couldn't uncover. What started off as a simple joke seemed more serious now. My hands held tightly onto the band of my shorts as I tried to prevent them from shaking. My chest rose and fell heavily, and the movement wasn't any help to Mr. Livingston.
"You wouldn't get out, and I had no other choice," I said, finally finding my voice.
Mr. Livingston stood up and approached me slowly. His body stood a couple centimeters from mine, with only a few steps my chest would be pressed against him. He leaned forward and his lips grazed my ear as he spoke, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand up.
"If you strip down in front of me again, I'll have no other choice."
He pulled away and looked back at me for a second longer before stepping out of the room. Once the door was closed, I screamed silently and bit down on my lip, doing a half-panicked circle across the room as I replayed everything in my head. I did not almost just get naked in front of my teacher. What was I thinking? How could I ever meet his eyes again in class, or listen to him lecture, when I had just watched how dark those eyes had gotten. And his words. What did he mean he wouldn't have a choice? A choice in what? What would he do?
Fear and excitement filled me at once, battling each other for the best seat in my brain. A part of me wanted to walk out there and finish what I started just to see what he'd do. The other part of me wanting to crawl under the bed and never come out again. Neither of these was actually a plausible option, so I grabbed my jeans instead and finally got dressed for school.
"Diem," Mr. Livingston called out a couple of minutes later. "Your dad's on the phone!"
I sprinted out of the room and snatched the phone out of his hand. I hadn't spoken to my Dad in a couple of days and a part of me hoped he was calling to tell me that his trip was cut short and he was on his way home.
"Hey Dad," I said, flopping onto the couch.
"Hey, kiddo. I tried calling, but your phone was off."
"Yeah, I kinda broke it."
"How'd you manage to do that?"
"It's uh, long story." I shifted on the couch, feeling Mr. Livingston's gaze on mine. He must have been able to hear the conversation through the phone. Nosy much?
"Well, how is everything over there? Are you and Caden getting along?"
"I mean, he's alright." My eyes met his. "Just a real pain in the ass sometimes."
"Language, Diem."
"I know, I know. But, honesty's the best policy, right?"
My father laughed through the phone and I smiled, feeling a familiar pain in my chest from his absence. If he was here, we'd be watching our favorite shows and movies at night and taking turns ordering from our favorite takeout places.
"Alright, Dee. I just wanted to check in and make sure you're okay. Tell Caden I said goodbye and I love you."
I pulled the phone away from my ear, "Caden, my dad says love you."
I laughed as my father scolded me through the phone. I could picture him now, rolling his eyes but fighting his smile at the same time.
"Love you too," I said, eventually hanging up the phone.
Mr. Livingston and I walked out of the apartment shortly after and he thankfully didn't mention what happened earlier in the room. I picked up my car from the house a few days ago, figuring it was better since I had to stay late for practice and didn't really feel like explaining why I was pulling up to school with my biology teacher.
Today was the day that I would break up with Dustin. The only thing that made me stay before was wanting to make sure he was okay, but he clearly didn't feel the same way about me. He hurt me and left me bruised without even flinching.
I found Cassie in the halls and told her about my plan, but only because she refused to leave my side until I spilled. Eventually, she left and I walked around the halls looking for him. I checked the usual spot where he stood with friends, the cafeteria, and his locker. Eventually, I found him standing next to his homeroom in his football jersey.
"Dustin!"
He turned around, grinning at me as he wrapped his arms around my waist and attempted to give me a kiss. I pulled away from him abruptly, earning a few glances from our classmates.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"We're over, Dustin. "
A slow smirk stretched across his face. "You're not breaking up with me. I told you what I'd do, Dee. Think of how heartbroken my mom will be when she finds her son dead."
I felt my eyes begin to water at the thought of his mother coming home to that. She was the sweetest woman, and the closest thing I had to a mother considering the piece of work I had back at home, and Dustin knew that. Losing Dustin would break her and I couldn't do that to her. He knew that and he was using it against me.
"I hate you," I told him, tears slipping.
"You don't hate me, Dee." He hooked his arm around my shoulders, using his thumb to wipe under my eyes. I attempted to pull away from him, but he grabbed onto my shoulder tightly and pulled me closer, causing me to wince. "Come on, let's get you to homeroom."
Dustin was right, I didn't hate him, not when all the hate I was capable of feeling was reserved for myself. I was stupid and weak, stupid for putting up with Dustin for so long, and weak for letting it still continue. As I walked through the halls, feeling his arm around me and his lips briefly press against my temple, I decided that I deserved whatever Dustin did next.
And then the universe spoke and gave me my first punishment of many. Mr. Livingston passed through the hall, his eyes falling on Dustin's hand wrapped around me. His blue eyes had turned cold, almost as cold as Dustin's touch, and he clenched his jaw. I couldn't look at him much longer so I settled for the tiled ground, hoping that it would collapse underneath me and end my misery.
I found Cassie in the back of our homeroom and collapsed into the chair next to her, resting my head against the desk.
"How did it go?" she asked.
"It didn't."
"Huh?"
"I didn't break up with him."
"Make up your mind woman!" she said, laughing and shoving my shoulder, but I couldn't laugh with her. I couldn't breathe or think or sit here for another second, so I knew I had to go home.
I was the first to walk into AP Biology and found him grading the lab reports at his desk.
"Caden," I said, my voice low.
"It's Mr. Livingston," he bit out. I looked away from him quickly, not that it mattered because he didn't even look up from the reports. Swallowing hard and blinking away my fresh sheet of tears, I gathered the courage to speak again.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm not feeling well, so I'm going home."
His eyes met mine. "Are you hurt?"
Yes.
I shook my head.
"Well, do what you want then. I don't care."
I looked at him for a second longer, waiting for him to look at me again, but he kept his gaze down. I understood that he was upset with me, that I hadn't done what I said what I would do, but did it really give him a right to act like this? It was as if he was also operating under some switch, being kind and friendly when I did the things that made him happy, and then cold and rude when I did things he didn't like.
Maybe I was destined to only be in relationships where I had to focus on a man's happiness at the expense of my own. Maybe all the men in my life were meant to be the same, all except Dad who I was sure would love me no matter what I did. I could live without my mother because I knew my Dad loved me enough for the both of them. He loved me enough that I didn't need it from anyone else.
I came back to Mr. Livingston's and immediately slipped into bed, hiding underneath the covers with the hope that they'd somehow block reality out even just for a moment. After some time, I fell asleep and stayed that way until the sound of a door slamming woke me up.
He was home.
I stayed in bed, listening to see what he would do but I couldn't make out any sound. Oh, fuck this. I am not afraid of him. I pulled the covers off and took a deep breath before stepping into the living room. I found Mr. Livingston laying down on the couch. The tie that I had fixed this morning was now on the floor and his fingers rubbed large circles into his temples.
"So are you going to tell me what the hell your problem is?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"I didn't do anything to you."
"I see you're staying with your boyfriend."
"Things are complicated. That doesn't give you the right to treat me like crap!" I was sick of him avoiding eye contact with me all day. His eyes had been on the TV during the conversation, so I stood up and shut it off. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."
"You're staying with a guy who puts his hands on you!" he yelled. "Are you going to wait for the day he takes it a little too far and you get hurt badly? Are you that fucking stupid?"
Him calling me stupid somehow hurt more than any slap Dustin could ever give me, and I had a feeling the pain would last longer than the few stinging seconds that came with Dustin.
"You're no different from him right now."
I went to leave the room before I starting crying in front of him. Why the hell was I crying so much lately? I hated it, and I wasn't about to do it in front of him. After a couple of steps, I felt his hand on my shoulder and I pulled away.
"Diem, I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"Mind your business then, Mr. Livingston. Don't worry about stupid ol' me."
I walked into the bedroom and grabbed the pillow and blanket that I used on my first night. There was no way that I would be sleeping in his room with him tonight, and if that meant that I might have to snuggle up on the couch with Jackson, then so be it.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"Making my bed."
"You're not sleeping on the cou--"
"It's either this couch, or I go somewhere else."
He sighed loudly, and it was me this time who was avoiding his eyes. I didn't want to see his judgment or his guilt, I just wanted to sleep and forget that this day ever happened. Eventually, he left and went into the room. I stayed on the couch, staring at the ceiling for a long time, and I couldn't help but agree with him.
I was stupid, stupid for caring about Dustin's life when he didn't give a shit about mine, stupid for thinking that Mr. Livingston could somehow be different, stupid for believing that when I woke up the next day, things would be different.