Or maybe, I needed to stop letting her play me because that was what she was doing…or trying to do. Play me like a fucking game.

A very dangerous game.

* * *

Present…

Memories are the only thing keeping me sane.

It’s surprising how one specific memory is what will make you fight to come out alive. It’s what makes you dare to push your way through the darkness, searching for any tiny shard of light.

My darkness comes when you would expect it to…at night.

It’s much more than the night closing in. It’s the pill I’m given, the way my light is switched off for me and the way I’m told when to get some rest. They might as well say lights out like they do in prison because that’s what this place is like.

Rest is something that eludes me because even in my dreams, peace is nowhere to be found. It’s as elusive as it has always been, except for when…no. It’s best not to even think it.

Sitting up in bed, I wrap my arms around my knees and tap out a calming beat—one, two, three—as a tiny slither of light slips through the crack of my door. It’s illuminating a black-and-white picture taped to the wall.

Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss.

I reach out and trace my finger along the woman lying back in Cupid’s embrace, and I can hear and see him just as clearly as if he’s in the room with me…

“Sometimes curiosity should stay just that,” he advised as he pushed his chair away from the desk.

“Should it?”

Standing slowly, he made his way behind me, and my entire body shivered with anticipation.

“Yes. There’s a reason Psyche was told not to open the flask.”

This was wrong. He’d told me that so many times. But I wanted him, and I was going nowhere.

“And that reason was?”

“Because opening it would only bring about the most severe of consequences.”

…He’d been right all along.

I lie down and stare into the darkness, searching for answers, but I have none. Our choices tore us apart, and my decision led me here.

My own choices and my own decisions, I knew that.

Why didn’t anyone else?

Chapter Three

Past…

When does an obsession become unhealthy?

I didn’t mean to follow him home that first time, but before I knew it, I was doing it every day and had been for the last few weeks.

It was a ritual now to sit in my car at school and wait as the second hand would tick, tick, tock its way around to 3:00 p.m.—when he would appear.

Today, he jogged across the field holding his satchel in one hand and his jacket over his head. I’d become addicted to watching him—especially unobserved. I slumped down in my seat, careful not to be spotted, as he exited the track and walked over to his truck.

How many days will I allow myself to do this?

I knew this behavior of mine was insane, but when it came to him, rules didn’t seem to apply. Ever since that first day of school, I hadn’t been able to think of anything but getting close to him, and every class I sat through only intensified my determination.

I checked to see if he was backing out of the lot, but instead of his truck reversing as usual, I saw him briskly making his way toward me.

No…there was no way he could know I was there. It was raining, and raining hard. My breathing accelerated as his shadow fell across the driver’s side, and when his knuckles rapped on the window, I jumped in my seat.

Caught, I’m caught.

I took a deep breath as he motioned for me to lower the rain-streaked glass. Swallowing hard, I pressed the down arrow on the door and heard the slow whir of the window motor as it slid open a crack. He bent down so he was able to peer inside the car, and I could see his lips were now shiny and wet from the rain.

“Are you having car trouble?”

I slouched back in my seat and let out a relieved sigh before shook my head. He wasn’t there to ask why I was following him. He was being what he was—a concerned teacher.

“No, sir.”

I could see a frown crease his forehead, and his eyes grew suspicious. “Then why are you out here? School let out thirty minutes ago.”

From the dry interior of my Honda, I could see the water hitting his long hair and sliding down the dark strands to pool on his shoulders. The windows were starting to fog up with every breath I took, and my view of him was disappearing.

I twisted in my seat and placed my hand on the glass, swiping off the condensation. When I could once again see through it, I pushed up closer and confessed.

“I was waiting.”

“What?” he shouted as the rain fell harder against the car roof. “I can’t hear you, Addison. Speak up.”

I shifted until my lips were hovering in the open space as I repeated, louder this time, “I was waiting.”

“Oh. For the rain to stop or for someone inside?”

I was mesmerized by the way the raindrops clung to his stubble-covered jaw—that was when we slipped into uncharted territory as I admitted, “I was waiting for you.”

* * *

What is she talking about? I thought as the rain beat down on me and streamed inside my shirt. The water soon went unnoticed as she lowered the window farther, and her perfect face came into view.

Seeing her sitting only inches away had me consciously taking a step back from the car—away from temptation. I knew whatever she’d meant by that statement was nothing I could acknowledge, and it was certainly nothing I was allowed to pursue.

Pure calculation swept over her face, and I was jarred back to reality by the popping of the locks. She pushed open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut behind her.

I needed to say something to get this back on the right track because the way she was checking me out was not helping to remind me who she was—and who I was supposed to be.

“Get back inside the car, Addison. You’ll get soaked.”

As she stepped closer to me, I surveyed the lot, paranoid that someone would see us. Paranoid that someone would read my mind.

And what exactly would they see?

They’d see me backing a student up against her car and lifting her skirt—the same miniscule scrap of fabric currently plastered to her thighs.

For the past few weeks, Addison had been watching me. I knew it, I felt it, and every time I’d caught her, she’d brazenly held my stare in a way that made my cock hard and my guilt compound.

“I’m already soaked,” she explained, and I got the feeling she was not referring to the rain.

“Well, there’s no reason to stand out here. You’ll catch a cold. Get in your car, drive home, and take a warm shower.”

A cunning grin spread over her mouth as she pushed her wet hair back from her face. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

Automatically, I answered, “Yes.”

“You’re going to go home and take a shower?”

“Addison,” I warned as the look in her eyes changed.

She scanned the area, much as I had seconds ago, and then moved closer to me. In that moment, I should have stepped away, but fate must have had something else in store for me because I didn’t do a damn thing.

“Yes? Sir.”

As professionally as I could with the rain continuing to pour down on us, I tried to impress upon her in a voice that invited no question, “You need to stop this.”

But question it, she did.

“Stop what?”

“This,” I stressed, not wanting to put a name to it but motioning back and forth between us. “Get back in your car.”

“I think about you all the time. I can’t stop.”

Shaking my head, I ran my palm over my wet face. This couldn’t be happening to me. I would not allow it. I knew better.

“Addison, it’s natural to form attachments to your teachers.”

“Is it natural to picture them fucking you?”

I pointed to her car. “Get in, and go home.”

With her focus never wavering, she slowly backed up until she hit the car door. She tipped her head back to the sky, parting her lips and poking her tongue out to collect the water.

The youthful gesture tugged at something inside me, and at the same time, it warred with my mind. Her breasts resembled two ripe apples begging to be picked and devoured, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away for her.

Surely, if there was a hell, I’d go there for what I wanted in that instant.

She brought her head back up and zeroed in on where I stood. “I’ll think of you tonight when I’m in my shower, and Mr. McKendrick?”

I said nothing as she pulled open her car door.

“I’ll be thinking of you, in yours.”

* * *

That night as I climbed into the shower, I did think of my teacher. I pictured him as he’d stood there in the rain, soaked to the bone, with water clinging to his cheeks.

His eyes had roved over my body the second I’d displayed it for him. I wanted him to look at me…to touch me. I turned on the warm water and raised my face to the spray, imagining just that.

He’d wanted me this afternoon and was almost tempted, of that I was certain. It was only a matter of time.

Tick, tick, tock.

* * *

Present…

“Good morning, Addison.”

I sigh as I make my way into our usual meeting place, choosing again not to answer. These sessions are pointless. I’ll never tell him what he wants to hear. I wonder if he already knows that.