I’d spent Sunday moping around the house, allowing one day of mourning before pulling myself together in time for school. I didn’t want Axel to see my devastation. He’d seen it in his back yard, but I refused to allow him the chance to see just how much he’d destroyed me.

He hated my mom for what she’d done.

Yet he was no better.

Mom had been quiet all day, so the time dragged on at a snail’s pace. I couldn’t wait any longer for bedtime, and headed up to my room at eight. Sleep didn’t come easy, and I tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before finally giving in to the darkness.

I was torn Monday morning. I didn’t want to see him, but at the same time, I wanted to at least pretend I’d been unaffected by him. So after hesitating in the hallway for a few minutes, I made my way into the classroom. I made it all of two steps before my knees nearly buckled. He wasn’t at his desk like he’d been every day before that. Instead, he stood at his podium, his head down as he intently studied something in front of him. I shook it off and headed to my seat.

The first wave of tears threatened to spill once I made it to my desk. On top sat my book, the one I hadn’t even realized I’d left over at his house. With all the chaos and commotion of that day, and the grief that had attacked me the day after, I never once thought about that damn book. But there it was, right in front of me, a stark reminder of where it’d been, why it was left behind, and how real this whole thing was. I couldn’t pretend it’d been a dream, any of it. Because I had the evidence in front of me, reminding me that no matter how hard I try to shove things down…burn and then bury them…they’ll never truly go away.

Pretending my mom didn’t hate me wouldn’t make her love me.

Forgetting my relationship with Axel wouldn’t automatically mend my heart.

And lying about my feelings for the only friend I ever had wouldn’t bring him back.

I glanced up at him and caught his eyes as he watched me. But the contact only lasted for a split second before he lowered his head again. I quickly stuffed the book in my backpack and got ready for class, ignoring everything going on around me. Ignoring everything going on within me.

“That’s surprising,” I heard Jill say as she sat down. “Mr. Taylor is usually at his desk, chatting away with you before class. Now he’s in the front of the room. What happened, did you two have a lover’s spat?”

I jerked my head up once I realized she’d been talking to me and not Rebecca. I found them both eyeing me with interest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s our teacher. Maybe he’s preparing for class.” I hoped to God that I sounded as nonchalant as I should.

They exchanged glances before turning back to me with devious grins on their faces. “Stop pretending. It’s so obvious you two have a thing. Don’t worry, we won’t judge you. To be honest, we didn’t think you had it in you to fuck a teacher.”

My hands shook from the adrenaline Jill’s words sent through me. “We don’t have a thing. He’s our teacher. He’s older than me, and I’m still a minor. And you’re right, I don’t have it in me to fuck a teacher, because it’s wrong. It’s unethical and immoral. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop talking like that. I’m sure Mr. Taylor wouldn’t like it if he knew you two were starting rumors that could end his career.”

Both girls giggled and turned around, whispering amongst themselves. I didn’t have to hear their words to know what they said. They didn’t believe me, and I couldn’t blame them. They were right. Every morning before class, Axel sat at his desk and we talked. Anyone walking into the classroom could see that. Even I noticed that the smile he gave me was different than the ones he offered to everyone else. We did have a thing, it just wasn’t what they assumed. Which, more than likely, if anyone gave it much thought, they’d probably come to the same conclusions Jill and Rebecca did.

I guess it was a good thing that we ended things when we did. It wouldn’t have been long before people started talking, and that would make the rest of the school year difficult on both of us. More so for Axel, though. I’m sure having something like that going around would be damaging for his reputation. That realization was enough to calm my aching heart.

But then class started, and instead of my chest tightening over the loss of Axel like I’d anticipated, it tensed for him. He was so angry, cold and distant. As he taught from his podium, he lacked all the enthusiasm he once had for teaching. His patience seemed to have evaporated, yelling at the class for things they’ve always gotten away with before. His eyes were dull, no longer shining like beacons of blue light. His shoulders sagged and his tie wasn’t even on straight. Just looking at the man, it was obvious he was in pain. I wanted to make it better for him, but I knew there was no way I could. I wasn’t the one who’d made this decision. He was. He’d cut things off with me, turned his back and walked away, leaving me crying and alone. I’d begged him to change his mind, yet he didn’t. So why was he standing there, looking like a man who had lost everything? He didn’t lose shit. He gave it all up, let it effortlessly slip through his fingers.

You can’t have sympathy for people like that. The ones that throw everything away and then regret it. But did he regret it? Or was this just the fallout? I needed to believe that he’d turn around and change his mind. I desperately yearned to hear him say that he’d made a mistake and had to have me in his life anyway he could have me. But the longer class drug on, and the more time that passed without a single glance my way, or even a simple acknowledgment of my existence, the more my hope dissipated.

Although, it did serve a purpose. Everything that had happened on Saturday, all the pain and anguish that I’d spilt on Sunday, and the silent slap in the face he’d given to me on Monday made me realize something.

Axel had come clean about his feeling for me. He’d confessed and told the truth about how, to him, we weren’t just friends, that he’d fallen for me. I’d maintained what I’d always said—to myself and to him. We were friends, nothing more. I didn’t have a crush on him, because that would be absurd. I didn’t care for him any more than, say, Jill cared for Rebecca. I’d told myself that so many times at the beginning until I’d eventually believed it. I had somehow convinced myself, and apparently Axel as well, that I had no romantic interest in him.

But it’d all been a lie.

How cruel is the universe that I’d fall for someone, for the first time in my life, only to have it ripped away before I ever had a chance to realize my own feelings? Axel was lucky. He had me for however long, knowing how he felt about me, enjoying what little time he had with that small piece of information.

Me? I was delusional.

I’d fallen for a man, only to realize it too late.

They say everything gets better with time. Wine supposedly is better after it matures, hearts are supposed to heal with distance, and for some reason, people enjoy aged cheese. However, I find this all to be utter crap.

I’m sure my mom could get just as drunk on ten-year-old wine as she did on the cheap boxed stuff she bought. The only difference was, she’d have less money.

Distance will never heal a heart. Some doctors can’t even perform this kind of miracle. Give it time? How does that make sense? Every day that passes, you’re one day closer to the end of your life. That doesn’t seem to make anything better.

And as for aged cheese? I think it’s a gimmick like Hallmark, except it’s aimed for the rich instead of lovesick fools. Somehow, people with money have been convinced that it’s a good idea to spend more on old cheese to spread on stale crackers while mingling and discussing how wealthy they are. Give me a Ritz and a slice of Kraft Singles and I’ll tell them where to shove their checkbooks.