***

The building is the same, the smell of paper and rubber and cleaning products inside it familiar; everything about the place I’ve spent the last three and a half years furthering my education is unchanged.  But somehow knowing I’m wandering down these halls in order to reclaim the other half of my heart makes everything seem different.  For the first time since I stepped foot inside these walls four years ago, it doesn’t feel so lonely.  It might be because I’ve finally found the control I’ve craved my entire life, and it doesn’t come from a sharp metal blade.  It might be that I’m finally ready to fight like hell for something I want more than my next breath.  Or maybe it’s the simple fact that I know he’s here.  That alone has the vise grip of loneliness loosening its hold.

My feet carry me down the familiar halls, and my heart beats faster with each step.  I follow the stairs up to the second floor, and as I round the landing, those steps falter.  I come to a complete halt as my eyes come to rest on Jacoby standing outside his classroom.  He’s leaning against the doorway with his hands tucked into the pockets of his gray slacks, his chocolate eyes pinned to the spot where I stopped as though he were waiting for me.

Please, let him be waiting for me.

Somehow, I manage to unglue my feet, and as I take that first tentative step in his direction the most heart stopping, shy grin breaks out across his face.  God, I want to run and throw myself in his arms and beg him to never leave me again.  I want to cry for how sorry I am.  I want to take his smooth strands in my hands, drag his mouth to mine, and kiss him until we’re both panting for air.

But just like breaking through the surface after being underwater, the noises and people surrounding us permeate the soundlessness I’ve experienced, and my senses return.

It doesn’t matter.  The people rushing past me don’t matter.  The yells of my classmates, the sound of the bell, none of it matters.  The only thing I care about is that he’s here.

He’s here.

And I’m ready.

I stop a respectable distance away, having enough wits about me to be cautious.  We may be on our way to overcoming the fight with our hearts, but I’m not about to forfeit our victory by getting caught this close to the finish line.

“Good morning, Mr. Ryan.”

“Morning, Tatum.  Did you have a nice weekend?”  His voice wraps around me like velvet.  I missed the sound of my name on his lips so much these past two weeks.

“It was uneventful.  I worked most of it,” I reply quietly.  The last thing I want to do is seem needy, but I want him to know I missed him.  The final bell rings, and I’m going to be late.  The hall around us is now empty.

Jacoby steps back to let me pass him, but as I move, he grabs my bicep with a firm grip.  The heat from his touch seems to sear straight into my bones.

He lowers his mouth to my ear, and his warm breath across my skin sends a shiver down my spine.  “Mine was quiet, too.  I missed you, Sweetheart.”  His voice is rough and husky, and my eyes snap to his where remorse and pain are swirling in the milky depths.

“Me too,” I whisper back.

The four-point-five hours between second period and calculus seemed to take an eternity.  We spent the forty three minutes of second period discreetly texting one another while his students took a test and I hid my phone from my study hall teacher.  Besides the few messages checking up and promising to talk later, we haven’t uttered a word.  The silence is torture.  I want to claw my way out of my own skin.

We have our own test to take in calculus, so at least I’m occupied when we’re finally in the same room again.  I feel as though I can breathe easier just having Jacoby near.

When I finish my test, I send a quick message to Emerson cancelling our plans for the evening.  She’s been my rock lately, coming over on my days off to keep me occupied and even spending the night after I got home from work a few times.  After my mental collapse a couple weeks ago, I ended up breaking down and telling her everything.

To say she was shocked is a colossal understatement.  At first, she was angry.  She swore enough times to put a sailor to shame and called Jacoby every name she could think of just short of a pedophile.  Then she yelled at me about finding someone my own age who actually cared about my wellbeing and not about getting into my pants.  That was the first time I’d smiled in a week.  Emerson knew all about my past hookups with Wyatt, and even though she didn’t like the guy, she never said anything about his age or his intentions.  I don’t know what her hang up about Jacoby was, but I think she was more hurt I kept it a secret than anything actually pertaining to him.

All it took was me confessing I was falling for him to sober her up.  She took one look at my face before breaking down into tears and apologizing for being such a bitch.  After that, she became much brighter in regards to Jacoby and even tried to remain positive about the entire situation while I was feeling the exact opposite.

So when I tell her I’m cancelling in order to set my heart straight, she texts back immediately.

I want to know EVERY detail!! Good luck, babe.  Ily

I text back, I will.

Which brings me to now, five minutes before the bell signaling the end of class.  I want to scream at the clock to move faster, because the only thing standing between me and Jacoby now is five freaking minutes.

My fingers drum on the edge of my desk loud enough to begin to annoy me.  I start to pack my bag to keep from fidgeting, and when I finish, I look up and lock eyes with Jacoby.  He’s sitting behind his desk with a small smirk and twinkling eyes.  His burgundy shirt has the top two buttons undone exposing the tanned ridges of his throat.  I’m itching to get my hands on him again.  To feel his hands on me again.  Only a few more minutes before we can begin to put the past behind us.

The sound of the bell makes me jump, and I take a slow, deep breath to stop myself from diving headfirst over Jacoby’s desk and onto his lap.  Instead, I calmly stand and gather my bag, pretending to follow the rest of my peers out into the hall when his voice stops me in my tracks.

“Tatum, a word, please?”

A few people glance back at the sound of his voice and make eyes at me as they pass, but as far as I can tell, not one looks suspicious.

I stop in front of his wooden desk, with its neat piles of papers, and meet Jacoby’s stare.  I see sadness and longing and lust swirling in the depths, which causes a lump of emotion to rise in my throat.  I cough to clear it.

“Yes, sir?”

His nostrils flare at the title, and a low rumble sounds from his throat.  “One minute,” he responds before making his way around the desk and to the door.  He pulls a set of keys from his pocket and locks the door before stalking back towards me.

I can’t look away from watching his body move unhurriedly towards me.  His familiar sweet, woodsy scent envelops me when he reaches me, and tears prick my eyes at how much I’ve missed him.  I yelp in surprise when he suddenly grabs me by my biceps and backs me up against the wall.  My heart is threatening to break out of my chest.  “Jacoby,” I whisper, needing him to talk to me.  We have so much to say.

“Christ, I’ve missed you.”  That’s all he says.  Four beautiful words to convey the depth of what these past couple weeks have done to him.  Four words before his mouth slams down on mine, and he takes my lips in a heated, bruising kiss that has my blood singing through my veins and the world around me splintering away.

I open my lips and slip my tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his.  Jacoby tastes like a sweet peppermint latte.  One of his strong hands wraps around the long waves of my hair, and the other slips down to my waist, sliding beneath the black concert tee I’m wearing.  His calloused hands forge a trail of fire along my skin to my back where he slides his fingers into the waistband of my jeans.