I didn't know what to say. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I was struck with fear - fear that he knew where I'd been, who I'd been with. He was, after all, the only one who knew about what happened that night. I swallowed my fears and tried to act normal.
"Ryan, what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice cold and unfeeling.
"Well, you could at least try to contain your excitement," Ryan smirked. "Seriously? Is that the kind of welcome I get from my girl?"
"I'm not your-"
"Oh, I realize that. You have someone else now, don't you?"
I raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"
He chuckled as he moved towards me. "You must think I'm retarded, Allison. Is this shirt yours? Are those sweatpants yours?"
I did my best not to show my fear. "I stayed over at Georgia's. Her boyfriend let me borrow them," I lied, and prayed it didn't show. "You never answered me. What are you doing here?"
I walked past him and went into the ensuite bathroom. He followed.
"I just wanted to drop by. It's been a while," he said. "Also, my father's holding a celebration for his 50th birthday later this month. It's on our yacht."
I laughed. "Of course it's on your yacht," I muttered. Ryan's family were filthy rich. Emphasis on filthy.
"I expect you'll be there."
I shrugged. "I don't know."
"You'll be there," he insisted.
I stared at him, determined. "I don't know, Ryan."
"Why not? Do you have plans with him?"
I narrowed my eyes at Ryan. "Who is him?"
"I think we both know who he is. Just because I don't see you very often, doesn't mean I don't see what you're doing and who you're doing it with."
I didn't know what to say. Did he know? Or was he just being his usual, jerk-ish self? I had no way of telling.
"You have to leave," I told him. "Now."
"If that's what you want," he sighed. "But I'll be back for you."
I rolled my eyes. "Out. Now."
***
That Monday, I tried my best to forget about Ryan. He knew too much. He was a very serious threat. I'd be lying if I said that didn't frighten me.
My fears were soon forgotten when Georgia came running towards me.
"Allison! I just had art class - Mr. Halter wants us to start working on the mural this week. Are you still in?"
I nodded my head. "Yeah, definitely."
"Great! He wants to talk to us after school. Can you make it?"
Again, I nodded my head. "Of course," I told her.
Georgia smiled. "Great. Y'know, he's an amazing teacher. You really are missing out - I still can't believe you dropped art!" she laughed. "I was telling Mr. Halter how amazing your art is-"
I felt my cheeks flare and redden. She was talking to him about me?
"Wh-what did you say to him?" I asked.
Well, he'd obviously seen the mural you painted for the school last year, so he already knows you're, like, insanely talented. I told him he should see your sketchbooks - because they're amazing, and you know it," Georgia grinned.
"Well, what did he say?"
"Mr. Halter? Oh - just that he was sad you dropped his class, that's all," she said.
I breathed out a laugh. "Yeah, me too,"
"You should transfer back!"
"Are you kidding? Georgia, it's December. There's no way the school would let me switch subjects so late in the year."
"Well, you could always try," she suggested, with a smile. "So, today after school - in the art room, of course. Be there!"
"I will,"
***
After school, Georgia and I headed up to the art room. It was empty, but moments later, the door reopened, and we were joined by Mr. Halter.
"Hello Georgia," he smiled. "Allison," he nodded towards me.
I nodded back.
We were being tactful and careful. It was both amusing and heartbreaking, seeing him suppress that pained smile I had grown to know so well. It ached to be reminded of how wrong our relationship was. It didn't feel wrong. These things never do. Yet, they are wrong.
Mr. Halter put down a large folder on the table next to us.
"So, Mrs. Schwartz wants this mural for the wall behind the basketball court. Going with a basketball theme would be a little too obvious, so I thought we'd go for something a little different."
He leaned both hands down on the table before us. He smiled a little.
"Any ideas?"
Georgia cleared her throat. "I was thinking we could do a painting of students - four figures, from freshman year to senior year, sort of walking after one another, getting taller with each year, sort of like they're evolving, y'know?"
Mr. Halter smiled. "Brilliant. Have you drawn up anything for it yet?"
She shook her head.
"Okay, work on that now. And what about you… Allison? Do you have any ideas?"
He was looking at me. He was talking to me. Yet, he wasn't really doing either of those things. He was looking without seeing, speaking without feeling. He was being cautious. I was a student and nothing more and that was exactly how he was going to treat me.
I pushed my hair behind my ears nervously.
"Well, I didn't really have much time to think about it," I admitted.
He smiled. "Don't worry, I'm in exactly the same position. I guess my mind has been a little preoccupied," he muttered. "We can use this time to, uh, brainstorm."
I smiled in return. "Sure."
Georgia sat down at another table and began drawing out her ideas. Mr. Halter walked over to me and pulled up a chair.
"Sit," he said.
I pulled up a chair and sat down. He brought the folder closer to us.
"This is where I keep my ideas. Be warned: It is extremely disorganized."
I smiled up at him in a way that only a student would.
He opened the folder. It was full of scraps of paper - drawings, sketches, paintings, images ripped from magazines, everything clipped and stuffed together in, like he said, an extremely disorganized fashion. It was brilliant.
"You're amazing," I said, my eyes wandering over the many beautiful pictures he had drawn.
He smiled. "I haven't seen much of your artwork. Besides the other mural, of course… You should bring some stuff in. I'd like to look at it."
I flicked through the pages in his folder. I was astonished. He was so talented.
"This could work," I said, pointing at a picture of his.
He nodded. "It could."
I looked up at him. It was only then that I noticed we were sitting dangerously close together. I scooted back, further away from him, glancing nervously back at Georgia. She wasn't paying us any attention.
"Sorry," he whispered, only loud enough for me to hear.
I smiled apologetically.
We decided to work separately. I sat with Georgia at one table, and he sat at the other. Georgia was coming up with some pretty good ideas. I couldn't think of anything worthwhile. My mind was elsewhere.
We worked for about thirty minutes together, brainstorming, coming up with ideas of all sorts. Then it was over. Time to go home.
Georgia left first.
"I'll see you in class, sir. Bye, Ally - do you need a ride home?"
I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. See you tomorrow."
She closed the door behind her.
We were alone.
James walked towards me. He glanced around the room, as if he were making sure we were actually alone, and not being watched by some hidden spy.
"I'm sorry about earlier. I know we have to be careful… It's just a lot harder than I had anticipated," he sighed. "Maybe we… Maybe this isn't…"
"What?" I asked, fearing the answer.
He sighed again, running his hand through his hair, and shutting his eyes. "Maybe… Maybe you should tell your parents I need a babysitter this Friday."
I smirked. "Brilliant. What next? You assign me detention for no reason?"
He laughed. "Don't underestimate my weakness, Allison. I need to be able to talk to you… To really talk to you. Not this - not hiding, not pretending, not fearing your classmate will look over and see me looking at you like… Like I really shouldn't. What do you say? Are you free this Friday? Are you willing to… babysit for me again?"
I pretended to ponder that thought. "Well, I do need the money…"
He laughed and groaned at the same time. "Great - now I feel like I'm some sort of pimp."
I giggled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Mr. Halter, what are you implying is going to happen this Friday?"
He laughed, slinking an arm around my waist. "Allison Rousseau, you have yet to experience the mighty power of both my fine cuisine and my irresistible charm. You have no idea what is going to happen," he smirked. "But on a serious note, I'm not afraid to take things slowly. Just because I'm asking you over to my house, that does not mean I expect anything of you. I'll make dinner. We can talk, we can hang out, we don't have to do anything you don't want to."
I nodded my head. "I know that. I trust you."
He smiled. "So… Friday? 8:30?"
"Friday," I repeated, already feeling excited. "I'll be there."