The Untitled

There are approximately a thousand lame titles I could come up with for our story, because there are so many ways I could describe my relationship with Max. Whether we sound like a cheesy dollar-store romance couple to you, is for you to decide, though ours is a bit too illegal to make it onto shelves. I could call it ‘Forbidden’, or ‘Taboo or ‘Secret Love’. Something corny like that. But to save us from such pathetic irony, I’ve named this story The Untitled, because it just seems to fit to me.

We were, and still are, teacher and student, and that’s how our relationship started. Just teacher and student, no attraction. After one month, I got to know Max; she was quiet and kept to herself most of the time, but just a little praise on my part and she’d brighten up. In three months, we were good friends, two more months and I was taking an interest in my A+ English student; a few weeks later and I was kissing her in my empty class room. I openly acknowledge that our relationship was wrong, but neither of us was very willing to let it go.

Throughout our relationship I felt guilty, and in a vain attempt to give Max her life back, I broke it off, and tried my best to move on and appear indifferent. Of course, I failed miserably. She sat in her seat during class very quietly, like always, but it seemed so different, especially in the way she looked at me. She’d never train her eyes on me for very long. We never spoke, and no one noticed anything had changed, just as no one had noticed before. She wouldn’t even say hello anymore, and I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, knowing it was my fault in the first place.

I began seeing another woman in a weak attempt to forget her and move on. It barely lasted more than a week, because I couldn’t stand her. She wasn’t Max, and I quickly realized there was no way to replace her. But I held my ground, and continued the same as I had before my relationship with her. Whenever I saw her in the hall, sometimes I couldn’t quite keep from watching her; her shoulders would always stiffen and her lips would press thin. She had the same stiff, half angry look on her face everyday, never faltering once, as if she was trying to prove something.

Whenever I felt bad, I would find something to remind me of her, anything at all. I read her grades and boosted test scores which I felt she deserved, idly asked about her from other teachers, digging up old stories she’d written for me that’d I’d read at least a hundred times each. I didn’t do much of anything at all but grade papers and give lectures, only to come home and be lonely all afternoon, TV no longer interesting and food tasting like cardboard. I gave extra work just so I had something to do when I went back to my apartment.

I missed the feel of her soft blonde hair between my fingers, her pink skin pressed to my mine, her shiny blue eyes. I missed the way she’d said ‘I love you’ at the some of the weirdest times, or the way she’d blush crimson when I complimented her on her work, the way she’d shake whenever I touched her. I missed her body, too. Everything felt pointless without her around, but I reminded myself just like all the other times I’d been dumped or done the dumping, eventually I would get over it. Sometimes I wanted to reach out and touch her, right there in class, and other times, I just wanted her to look at me and acknowledge I was there without having to call her out in class.

She’d never been so unreadable, so untouchable before, sort of like she’d formed a force field around herself. She’d always had an expressive face when she let herself go, or even when she didn’t, but now she wore the same expression without break. But it was still better than the look she’d given me when I told her we couldn’t see each other anymore, at least not romantically. The guilt that knotted my stomach was unlikely to ever go back to normal. I felt like I’d slapped her the way the smile fell over her face. She knew me well enough to know I wasn’t playing. I felt sick to my stomach as I watch her expression turn from shock to a mixture of confusion and hurt. Her was soft when she finally spoke.

‘What did I do wrong?’

My resolve had almost fallen through with her reaction. She wasn’t angry or even quite sad; crying may have been better, because right then she seemed to stop reacting at all. She knew exactly the right words she could scream to hurt me, but she didn’t. She didn’t drop to her knees and beg. She didn’t react like the way I’d prepared myself for. Those five words made me want to cry all over again, and it took me a while to speak, for fear if I spoke, I might start sobbing and take it back.

‘It was nothing you did.’ I’d said stiffly, swallowing hard at the knot in my throat that seemed to be blocking my airways. She just stared at me her eyes glassy and slightly watery, but no tears escaping. I stepped forward, and wrapped my arms around her, pressed her face to my chest, cradling her head and running my fingers through her hair in a way I hoped was comforting. I wanted to have sex with her just one last time, and tell her that I loved her. But I couldn’t; I was already making things worse.

She’d just stood there, bent over as her arms hung limply by her sides. Her body radiated an intense heat, and I breathed in her smell, biting my lip and knowing I’d miss it. Her chest heaved deeply, as if she were going to cry, making no sound, but I could feel the wetness of tears soak through my blouse. Her chest swelled as she inhaled deeply, and exhaled smoothly. Every muscle in her body was impossibly tense, clenched so tight it must’ve been painful. She didn’t struggle and she didn’t cling; she stayed completely still. When I finally let go of her, I bit my lip as I refused to impulse to kiss her hair, and tried my hardest to keep my cool mask in place as I escorted her out. She went down the hall toward the opposite end of the school to the buses, and I went to my car in the parking lot. As I drove home, I cried so hard I had to pull over at one point.

Memories replayed in my brain like old movies until the little details I’d forgotten drove me crazy, reminding me of what I missed and all I wanted. Memories of sex and the times we’d just hung around my kitchen talking or lie on the sofa watching television were all I had left of her. I repeatedly reminded myself I had had to do it. I was taking her away from her life, stealing her childhood and creating gaps between her best friend and family. Our love was wrong. She was seventeen, and I was twenty four. We couldn’t wait one more year out. It was too risky, and she was just a kid, anyway. She needed to have a life outside of me. Whether she wanted it or not wasn’t up to her.

It was late one Wednesday afternoon when I found her in the women’s bathroom, scrubbing paint off her hands furiously. My backpack slung over one shoulder; I pretended not to notice her. I went to the sink farthest from her and washed my hands like I’d come to do. I was so close to asking her how her art class was going for her, but managed to stop myself, leaving without a single glance at her. The tension in the air had been thick enough to cut with a knife.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so very, very sorry…’ I repeated in my head as if she could hear me. The next day was the same as every other, and so was the week after. Three weeks before school was out, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was so sick of the silence and watching but not touching her just wasn’t enough. I caved in on myself that Friday afternoon, and as she was leaving at the back of the class as usual, I called her to my desk. She stopped immediately, turning around and looking at me suspiciously.

“Max, come here.” I said softly, pursing my lips and crossing my arms as I rocked back on my heels. She strode toward me a couple steps, but kept a healthy distance between us. I cleared my throat, clenching my upper arms a little. I didn’t know what to say, or know how to even begin to apologize. I didn’t even know if she would take me back, but I knew I had to try. I choked up before I’d even finished my first sentence, and I furiously wiped at my eyes with fingers.

“Max, I’m sorry that I hurt you, I just wanted to protect you. I felt bad, when you told me about how you fought with Jackie over me, and… I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault…I never should have left you, God, it was a mistake. I’m so, so sorry, Max, I really am.” I continued to stumble over myself, and when I finally looked up at her, her face was ashen and her lips were pressed together firmly, turning white as she looked everywhere else but at me. Her hands were shaking my here sides.

“I missed my bus. I need to go.” My stomach dropped a mile, and I rubbed my eyes hard to stop the fresh tears.

“Right, right, I’m sorry. Let me give you a ride.” I said hastily, reaching for my backpack and checking things over briefly. I didn’t really give her a chance to object, and I put one hand on the small of her back, ushering her gently out of the door. She moved away from me once we were in the hall, brushing her short hair out of her eyes over and over as long strand tickled at her nose persistently. The distress on her face was apparent, whether she realized it or not, and I wanted to touch her so badly. I imagined myself running my fingers through her hair and kissing her forehead. I shook myself out of my day dream as someone passed me in the hall.

She hesitated slightly as I clumsily fumbled with my keys, and then climbed into the passenger’s seat beside me with her back pressed firmly into the seat with her hands fisted tightly in her lap. As I drove her home, she was dead silent, and I’d never felt so small and helpless, like I was a child in trouble. I’d never been able to handle the silent treatment, but couldn’t bring myself to say another word, so I turned radio to our favorite station. At the third stop light, I worked up the courage to turn my head and look at her as she continued to stare straight forward out of the windshield. I tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come, so I shut my mouth again. A car honked behind me and startled us both, so I followed her example and hit the gas.

As I pulled into her driveway, my stomach felt queasy with nerves, remembering all the times I’d dropped her off, how I’d quickly lean over and kiss her cheek before she got out. I swallowed fiercely at the cold lump in my throat as she opened the door and climbed out without a word, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the steering wheel. When I was back at my apartment, I’d never felt so alone. I guess I’d been holding onto the hope that we’d somehow manage our relationship again, because I’d never felt emptier, not even the night I’d left her. I couldn’t sit still for very long, or keep moving either, so I was constantly up and down in my apartment, pacing back and fourth when there was a sudden knock at my door. When I went to answer it, I didn’t expect to see Max in the doorway, looking guilty and uncertain at the same time.

“Ah, I just wanted to um, thank you for the ride and all.” She said, shifting from foot to foot, looking embarrassed as she played with her fingers childishly.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I said. She grimaced, and shrugged, opened her mouth as if to argue, then shut it.

“I’d better get going…” she muttered, looking down the hall longingly, obviously regretting coming.

“No, wait, come in.” I said quickly, stepping aside and desperately hoping she wouldn’t reject my invitation.

“Alright.” She muttered tentatively, stepping inside slowly, as if the floor might collapse with one wrong step. She stood in the kitchen, and I told her to take a seat. I stood behind her for a few minutes, and she shifted uneasily in her seat, disliking not being able to see me. She began talking about an essay she’d turned into me, and was apologizing for how poor the structure was when I interrupted her saying I’d given her an A.

“Oh.” she said softly, lost again.

“Max, I’m sorry. Please believe me, I never meant to hurt you.” I said, my voice so soft I didn’t think she heard me at first. After a long pause, she spoke.

“Its ok, it was my fault, I was always over here bothering you, and I was acting like such a brat at home, letting my grades slip and…”

“No!” I snapped, and she jumped a little. “No, it wasn’t your fault. Stop blaming yourself. You did nothing wrong. Look, Max, I made a mistake, I love you, and…and…” I didn’t know what else to say. I was standing in front of her now, and she stood up to, looking confused and hurt all over again.

“Rachel, I don’t understand…” I gripped her face between my hands and kissed her before she could say another word. I barely opened my eyes, drawing back for a quick breath and kissing her again, over and over, lightly pressing my mouth to hers. Shaking, I let my hands fall away, and gave her the choice to stay or leave.

She stared at me for what felt like years, her eyes impossibly sharp as they searched my face for any hint of dishonesty or malice, pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Just d-don’t hurt me again, ok?” she said, stammering slightly.

I had her backed her into a wall in no time, leaving no space between as I pressed against her, kissing her feverishly. I ran my hands over her face and through her hair, over her breasts and sides, plunging my tongue into her mouth and rubbing her legs, ghosting my hand between them. Her breathing was slightly erratic and I kissed down her neck, my hand pressing more firmly against her sex.

I was frantically trying to undress her, afraid if I didn’t move fast enough that everything would somehow turn out to be false, and I’d wake up crying into my pillow like a corny old movie. Her jacket fell to the floor, and I helped her pull the baggy t-shirt off over her head, letting it fall carelessly to the tile floor. She stiffened her back as slid one hand beneath the material of her bra and cupped her breast, kissing her collarbone, biting softly and leaving little red marks in my wake.

The rest of her clothes wound up on my bed room floor, her face and chest flushed red, dark marks scattered across her torso, leading further and further down. Finally, I had her lying on her back, completely naked and helpless, the blankets kicked to the foot of the mattress as I lay on top of her kissing her roughly and squeezing her breasts as I rubbed my hands up and down her sides.

Still fully clothed, I slid down her body eagerly; my hands reluctantly leaving her breasts alone as I spread her thighs with my hands, making her stiffen as I lowered myself onto my stomach and spread her for easier access. Giving her no time to prepare, ran my tongue over her entrance and teased her swollen clitoris, eager to hear and feel her reactions. She moaned hoarsely, her head digging into my pillow as I held her hips down to the mattress. The muscles in her legs twitched as I grazed my teeth carefully over her clitoral hood lightly, her breath coming out in shallow puffs I could barely hear.

One hand deserting her hips, I pushed two fingers inside of her, and she whimpered, her inner flesh clamping tightly upon the intrusion. I thrust them sluggishly, slowing the movements of my mouth until she was close, and then pulled her clitoris past me lips, sucking hard as I curled my fingers upwards. Her hips bucked involuntarily, but I didn’t try to stop her, letting her climax drag out.

“Rachel…” She wheezed breathlessly as I pressed a chaste kiss to her still quivering left thigh. I climbed up beside her and undid the top few buttons of my shirt, shifting close and setting her head against my chest, enjoying the warmth of her face against my skin.

“I love you baby. You’ll never know how much I missed you.” I said, holding her tight.

“I love you too.” She mumbled sleepily, her eyes drooping.

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