I had a pleasant awakening. The shutter left up allowed the sun's rays to reach my eyes, warning me that another day had begun. My body ached a little, probably from staying in the same position for too long.
I took off the sheet, which was covering me up to my stomach, and a light breeze caressed my bare legs. I stretched my limbs and when they spread out on a mattress bigger than mine, my eyes widened, looking around in confusion.
I was not in my room.
My sleepy mind prevented me from processing where I was and for a minute I thought I had been kidnapped. It wasn't until the memories of the previous evening hit me that I calmed down.
I had been with Professor Pascal.
I sat up, looking around the room for his figure. My heart sank in my chest as I confirmed that I was alone.
It was all real. It hadn't been another dream or an illusion.
I rubbed my hands over my eyes, forcing my mind to fully wake up. Noises outside the room woke me up. I looked up to see the door ajar.
The professor hadn't abandoned me. He had only gotten up before me, perhaps because he had some engagements.
I put my feet on the ground and looked at my body. The previous night before going to bed, I had gone to the bathroom to take a quick shower. Pedro had entered with me and our passion was rekindled. I think it was the hottest and longest shower I have ever had. When we left, he picked me up again, carrying me to the bed.
I took a flap of the shirt that he had lent me to sleep on. It was black and with the name of a band I didn't know. When I stood up, I saw that he reached up to my butt, barely covering it. I searched for my clothes, finding them, arranged and folded, on the nightstand near the side of the bed I had occupied.
Awkwardly, I reached the door, entering the living room. With a sigh of relief, I noticed that my professor was in front of the stove.
He had his back to me and seemed to be focused on whatever he was preparing. From the smell, I assumed it was coffee. Taking advantage of his distraction, I crept up and admired his body. He was wearing only boxers that hid very little.
My first thought was to write to Elena and describe the magnificence of those buttocks. On reflection, there was something else that took precedence that I should have told her.
With a pained smile, I looked away and walked forward. "Good morning."
Pedro immediately turned to look at me, calming down as soon as he realized that it was me and not an intruder. "You're awake," he said. "Good morning." He smiled at me, warming my whole body. "Can I offer you something? Coffee, biscuits... milk?"
"Ha ha, very funny." I leaned on the table with my hands. "Coffee is good."
Pedro nodded and returned his attention to the coffee mocha he was hissing. He waited a few more seconds before turning it off. He reached out to pull two cups out of a shelf. While he filled them, I leaned closer to observe him better during his work.
It still seemed impossible to be there: with my professor a few inches away, while he was preparing my breakfast.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked me, putting a teaspoon of sugar into the cup closest to me.
"Very well," I replied, resting my cheek on his bicep. "Mine?" I asked for confirmation and he nodded. "Enough of the sugar, then."
"You're welcome." He handed it to me, smiling kindly at me.
"Thank you." Regretfully, I moved away from his arm to drink my coffee. I missed his warmth immediately.
Pedro moved, leaning only his back on the kitchen counter. He drank his coffee bitter, without even a grain of sugar. His eyes stayed on me the entire time, watching me intently.
With red cheeks (how was it possible that he still had that effect on me?), I took a few steps back, observing him from above the cup. "Do I have something on my face?"
"Just beauty."
I burst out laughing. A laugh full of joy and lightheartedness.
Was that the most cheesy response a human being could ever think of? Yes. But coming from his lips and at that moment it just made me feel good.
Love was supposed to be like that: the feeling of peace and happiness that was dancing inside me.
He drank the remaining coffee in one last gulp. His eyes closed for a few seconds and when he opened them again they didn't return to me. He faced the counter to set the cup in the sink. I hurried to finish my coffee, adding my cup next to his.
His face lingered towards the kitchen, but his mind was elsewhere. "We need to talk."
I stopped smiling abruptly and my stomach twisted in fear. "We do?" A vain attempt to postpone that moment.
Serious eyes locked on mine, making me shiver. "After last night," he continued, "I think it's clear that the feeling we have is mutual."
Call it by its name, I wanted to tell him. Say it's love.
"But-"
I immediately interrupted him: "Don't do it. Don't break my heart".
His expression changed, becoming sad and pained. "I have to do it, Alessia." He backed away, putting at least a meter of space between us. I looked at the chasm he was creating, unable to move and fill it.
We were becoming two distant coasts crossed by an ocean.
"Whatever is between us," he waved a hand over the abyss, "is wrong."
"It is not true!" I snapped, stepping forward. He made two backs, stopping me with a raised hand.
"You are nineteen and I am thirty-one. Don't you understand it?" He frowned. "I had ten years of life available to ask myself questions and find the answers on my own. If we got together, I'd deprive you of all this! I would deprive you of your twenties!"
"I don't care." Mine was a weak objection.
He clenched his fist and brought it to his forehead. "I care. If I force you to stay with me, I'll only hurt you."
"I wouldn't be forced to stay with you," I insisted. "I really like you."
He looked away, blinking quickly. His mouth remained open and no sound came out, letting me know that he was desperately looking for a reason not to be with me. "Next year you will go to study elsewhere."
I knew he had just used the final argument, one that I would not be able to counter.
"It would be a long-distance relationship," he continued, taking a step toward me and becoming serious again. "And I don't want to have a long-distance relationship."
I parted my lips to try to argue.
"But I don't want to stop you from making your own choices." He advanced again, but the breach was not closed. On the contrary, it had only gotten deeper. He put his hands on my shoulders. "You must go and study there. You have to enjoy your youth and you have every right to do so without having a weight anchoring you here."
I placed a hand on his, begging him to reconsider. "You wouldn't be a weight."
He stroked my cheek. "You're still very young, Alessia," he said. "And there are many things you don't know yet, experiences you have to live. I don't want to be with you if it means becoming a hindrance to the future that awaits you."
"Why are you so pessimistic?" I said, feeling tears prick my eyes. "It might work..."
He shook his head, smiling bitterly. "If we got together, you'd regret it, and I have no intention of hurting you."
I squeezed his hand harder, advancing towards him until our chests were crushed. "You would never hurt me."
The hand he was stroking my cheek with slipped behind my neck. "You don't know," he insisted. "I could end up hurting you involuntarily. And I don't want that to happen."
I squeezed my nose, but couldn't stop a tear from flowing.
Pedro cupped my face with both hands. "Don't cry," he begged me, coming closer to me. "In a few years, when you're older, you'll thank me for this, for not bonding you to me."
I watched his eyes. In his black irises, I saw the mixed emotions he was feeling, but his determination was getting the better of him, even if it meant breaking his own heart.
Why was he doing it, then, if he was hurting himself? I couldn't figure it out, no matter how hard I tried to find a reason.
Angrily, I thrust my hands into his arms, pushing him away from me. He let me do it, not fighting to stop me.
"You are cruel," I said, holding back the true words I wanted to say.
"I know," he said confidently. "But it's better this way, for both of us."
"No, it's not!" I spat, walking away from him a few steps. "Why did you let me come here, then? Because I'm pretty sure you had already made this decision back then." I looked at him with wounded, watery eyes. "Did you take advantage of me? Knowing that you would then abandon me?"
"Yes, I took advantage of you," he replied, stabbing me.
I bit my cheeks. "I don't believe you," I insisted, turning away from him. "It doesn't make sense."
I heard him approach. "You said it yourself: I'm cruel," he continued. "You deserve better, don't you?"
I rubbed my eyes, fighting back tears. He was using my words against me, using them to reinforce his argument. "What about now? Are you going to throw me out of your house?"
He frowned. "No, of course not."
I pointed a finger at his chest and he pursed his lips, staring at me carefully. "Then what are you going to do? Are you going to force me back into my life, pretending nothing happened between us?"
He looked away for a moment and clenched his fists. "If leaving and forgetting about me is what you want, I won't stop you."
I brought my palms to my forehead. "You're not listening! Forgetting about you is not what I want!" By now I was screaming.
He walked towards me, reaching out again to comfort me. "Calm down, please. I can't see you in pain."
"Well, it's all your fault that I'm in pain," I said, realizing only at the end that it was a trap.
He smiled at me sadly. "If we get together, that's all we have ahead. Suffering, until one of the two gets tired. Or until you find something better."
I closed my eyes and lips, refusing to answer him.
Pedro drew me close to him, embracing me. His bare chest was comfortingly warm.
I would never be able to say goodbye to him.
"It's a mistake," he said. "We are a mistake. I don't want you to figure it out when it's too late."
I pressed my face into his shoulder, crying uncontrollably. We remained in that position for at least a few minutes.
Sniffling, I walked away from him. "Should I go home?"
He licked his lips, looking away. "Or." He stopped, cursing under his breath. "Or you could stay with me until your family gets back."
His eyes were focused on me.
"And then you're going to make me say goodbye?"
"Yes, when they're back we'll say goodbye."
"You really are an asshole."
He laughed, getting a slap on the chest from me.
"Are you seriously laughing"
He grabbed my wrist, locking my hand against his skin. "You're right, I'm an asshole and I'm also selfish. Because the right thing would be to send you away immediately." His lips remained curled to one side only. "Coño, the right thing would have been to scold you the first time you kissed me or to refuse to be with you yesterday. But I didn't, right? I've never done the right thing."
He brought my hand to his lips. Every sign of sadness had disappeared from his face, replaced by hunger.
"That's why I'm asking you to allow me to do the wrong thing for another week."
He kissed my palm and goosebumps broke out on me.
"Stay with me, Alessia."
I didn't accept right away. I watched him, wondering which option was the least painful. If I had gone away, I would have had that conversation as my last moment with him and I would have been forced to suffer my emotions for the following days, even weeks; hiding in an empty house.
If I stayed... I wasn't sure there was a chance he would change his mind nor was I sure I wanted to beg him for a chance. If I had stayed, I would have spent a wonderful week with him. Or horrible. But in the latter case, I could have walked away from him more easily.
Maybe I could stay there, slowly get used to having to say goodbye. Prepare for the pain of not having him around when I could still hold him. I was going to have him any way I wanted, filling myself up with him until I could live without that man for years.
Because if fate really wanted us together, we would meet again in the (I hoped) not-too-distant future. In a future where it would no longer be wrong to be together.
I just had to learn to survive without him for a while.
And if fate hadn't wanted us together, that week would have remained a beautiful memory. If he was right, in a few years, as I matured, I would be grateful to that man for letting me go.
The decision had been made.
Pedro let me go. "You don't have to answer right away," he said, looking down.
Before he could blather anymore, I lunged at him, grabbing his neck. Our mouths met as he stared at me with wide eyes.
"Okay," I said against his lips. "I'll stay."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's space:
The angst is never over. :)