“It’s not stupid to want to talk about it if it upset you. What did she say?”

I told him everything, leaving out my breakdown. I didn’t want him to know how desperately I craved my mom’s love. I figured that’d make me sound like a weak child, and that’s the last way I wanted him to think of me.

“And you believe her?”

I twisted my blanket in my hand, suddenly feeling self-conscious about it all. “I mean, I guess I do. She seemed sincere. She has no reason to lie to me about it. I’ve never seen her act like that toward me before, so what else am I supposed to think?”

“But then she walked away?” He sounded disbelieving, as if he couldn’t fathom it. As if a mother walking away from her child in the midst of such a heavy conversation was incomprehensible to him.

The sting of tears threatened my eyes as I thought back to earlier that day when she left me crying alone on the couch. The rejection that overcame me then rushed back as if it were freshly exposed. As if she’d just walked away from me all over again. “Yes. But it was my fault. I pushed her too hard. I asked her why it was so hard to love me. I guess she couldn’t handle that and left. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just let her get the guilt off her chest and move on.”

A frustrated grunt carried through the line, filling my ear with his irritation. “Stop blaming yourself. You didn’t make her walk away. If she can’t handle that kind of question, a very valid question, then that’s on her. Not you. You had every right to ask her that, and she should have given you an answer.”

“I shouldn’t have bothered you with this, Mr. Taylor.”

“Every time you call me that outside of school, I’m going to call you Miss Jacobs,” he said, gritting out each word in annoyance. “If we’re going to do this—talk and stuff—then I can’t have you refer to me like that. This is already hard enough on me without hearing you use such a proper name.”

“Why is this so hard for you?” I longed to know, hoping it would either validate my own feelings, or set them straight once and for all.

A long huff of air rushed through the earpiece, and I swear I could feel it cover me in warmth, like a blanket. “I’m new to all this, okay? I’ve already told you that I’ve subbed before and assisted other teachers, but that was always short term. I’ve never had to worry about growing an attachment to a student.”

“Are you saying you are attached to me?” Why am I pushing this?

“Not like that, Bree. You are in a crappy situation, and I want to help you. I can help you. And I think I’m the only one willing to do so. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. As a teacher, it is my job to protect you while you’re in my care. Unfortunately, you aren’t being protected outside my watch, and that’s what bothers me. I’ve been through this with my friend growing up, and I don’t even want to think about where he’d be without me and my parents. I don’t want to think about what will happen to you if I turn my back. So I don’t want to—I can’t turn my back on you. However, I need you to understand that you are my student. I am your teacher. And it is unethical and just plain wrong for this to go beyond me keeping you safe.”

“I get it, Axel. You don’t have to explain it to me.” I gripped the phone tightly in my hand, pressing it against the side of my face, becoming so completely torn. My emotions were all over the place, fried and burnt. I couldn’t listen to him over-explain it any more than he already had. “This is just really confusing to me, and I…” I let out a sigh as I said, “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, Bree. Tell me, don’t dance around it. I’m not a mind reader.”

I rolled onto my back and stared at the dark ceiling above me, hoping to find the courage to give him an honest, straightforward answer. If I expected this crush—or whatever it was—to go away and see him for who he really was, for what his purpose was in my life, I’d have to keep it real and get it all out.

He’s on the phone, you don’t even have to look at him. You can say this. You can be honest with him. Do it now while the door is open, before you lose the chance. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, not thinking about the words as they came rushing out with raw candor.

“I’ve never had anyone care about me before, or at least they never showed it. I’m not used to having someone watch out for my best interests, wanting to keep me safe, protect me. And I’ve never gotten attention from the opposite sex, either. So this is all so confusing to me. I think you care about me, like you want to be around me. Like you want to talk to me. And I know why you do, you’ve been very clear about that, but you have to understand, I’m sixteen years old. The naïve, romantic inside—the small part that hasn’t been murdered by my parents—likes the way it feels. I like the way you see me, and I like knowing I have someone to talk to. But it’s hard to remind myself that this isn’t romantic. This isn’t anything more than you having a hero complex, and me playing the part of the damsel in distress.”

His end of the line became very quiet, and I worried I’d lost him. I feared he’d hung up after hearing my confession…after I’d told him my brutal truth.

“I’m not saying I have a thing for you. Don’t misunderstand me. I only wanted you to know where I am coming from. I am smart enough to know where you stand, and I’m not some dumb idiot that takes things out of context. But I am still a girl, one that has never been in a relationship of any kind. A girl that dreams of having someone look at her the way you do. I want to be seen. I want to be loved. And it’s hard not to grow attached to the only person in my entire life giving me all that.”

“Bree…”

“You don’t have to say anything. I know how you feel, and now you know how I do. You wanted me to be honest with you, so I am. Please, don’t say anything else. I think we’re both on the same page. Nothing else needs to be explained.” I knew that wouldn’t stop him, but I at least had to try. My chest ached from my confession, and I knew it would hurt so much worse if I had to hear his harsh words.

“Bree, this thing between you and I—”

“You and me,” I corrected him, cutting off his words.

“What?”

“You said ‘you and I,’ and that’s crappy grammar. It’s supposed to be ‘you and me.’ If you remove the ‘you’ from the sentence, you’d know which one to use. It’s misused a lot, yet there’s a very easy way to know which word to use correctly.” I wanted to smack myself…and then laugh. Smack myself because this was not the time to correct his English, however, it felt good to tease him as if we weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation.

“I’m a history teacher, not a grammar expert,” he said with a laugh.

Once I heard his deep, rumbling chuckle, my own laughter bubbled out. And suddenly, the weight that surrounded me began to ease. The darkness that filled the space around me lightened, and the air cooled. All it took was one laugh from Axel to calm my racing heart, lessen the tension in my muscles, and soothe the heat that had flushed my cheeks.

“True, but you’re still an educated adult. I may be your student, and a child in your eyes, but that doesn’t mean you should sound like ignorant kids my age.” In my head, it sounded funny, but out loud, all my words did was point out the obvious: he was an adult, and I was not.

“In my defense, most people your age aren’t as smart as you.”

I appreciated how he didn’t call me a kid and gave me a compliment at the same time. It made me smile and become slightly more confident. “Guess that means when you talk to me, you need to up your game, huh? I wouldn’t want to show you up in the intelligence department. It might embarrass you.” My voice came out light due to the ear-to-ear grin on my face, my playfulness obvious in every word.