Chapter 15

Yrene's PoV

His warning rang loud and clear in my head, I could feel the underlying threat and concern in his tone crawl all over me. I felt itchy and uncomfortable just thinking about having to explain my actions.

After all, there was not much to explain anyways. After he concludes his speech I nod my head to indicate I have understood.

I had no idea why but, somehow, I had gotten too comfortable with him and had subconsciously begun to trust him.

Perhaps it was the fact that he liked the dark shade of lipstick on me, the same one Nick had told me made me look evil and witchy, which was also one of the reasons I wore it today, to prove a point through me dead body that he could go fuck himself.

Anyhow, back to the topic...or maybe I trusted him because he had saved me from myself more than once or, maybe because he had now, undoubtedly, seen my blade and scars and hadn't questioned me about it or reported me, or maybe because he was persistent on helping me no matter what.

I didn't know and all of this was getting too much for my brain to handle. Especially the fact that he would now be my teacher, as if it wasn't uncomfortable seeing him in the hallways already. I mentally roll my eyes at the notion.

In less than a week this man has seen me in the worst states imaginable and this, dear friends, is very hard for me to believe, I mean some of the things not even my brothers or friends know about me but the Adonis sitting in front of now did.

I don't want to keep him hanging like this so I tel him the basic gist of the problem,

"Sir-sorry Chase", I quickly catch myself and correct , "there are many reasons for why I was up there today and most of them I don't want to go in a detail of because not will it only change the way you see some of your students but humanity as a whole." He raises his eyebrows questioningly and I continue, " Yeah I know pretty sad right?", without waiting for an answer I continue with my rant, "before you ask, yes, there were family problems too that became the guiding source for my failed suicide attempt, and I'm pretty sure you know by now that I wasn't playing and that I had gone up there to leap off. I have been clinically depressed for a long time with an anxiety slash panic disorder and many more of which I would not like to discuss right now. I smoke as a release, because it eases the pain of having to live my life."

He goes into some kind of a thought for some time,

"Yrene, I don't know if you realise but you haven't given me a proper answer yet."

"Chase, this as proper an answer as any I can provide, especially now. But I can tell you this much that when I reached the top I didn't want to die just yet so I decided to give myself and my mind a second chance, as you may have already understood by now I won't be giving you any details of how I decided to do that either, anyways my feet carried me to the edge on their own accord and my mind urged me to jump although my heart didn't agree at first. I wanted it all to stop, the internal fights I had to fight all day long, the never ending thoughts of what could have been and certain other aspects that, again, I'd rather not talk about right now; soon enough my heart began to agree too. I don't know how else to say it, or to be honest if I even really mean it, but thank you. Thank you for being up there today and bringing me down, thank you for driving me home that night and thank you for giving me a chance to explain. Someday, soon, maybe I'll even give you the rest of the details but as of now I am just extremely exhausted and cannot talk about anything regarding my condition even if I try."

I smile at the end to soften the impact of my words on a decent person's mind. But Chase doesn't return my smile and instead goes in for a hug.

I am shocked at first, so shocked I don't respond immediately but once I overcome it, I hug him back, tightly and before I can pull away he whispers,

"Don't worry Yrene, I won't push you. But talk to me about it whenever you're ready, you don't have to suffer alone."

I feel electricity shoot up my spine, pleasurably, his soft breath warms my neck as I nod into his shoulder; his scent of expensive cologne and clean washed male filling my senses.

The embrace is broken when I notice, on the oak side table next to me, a photo frame; showcasing Chase side hugging a beautiful woman, with dusty blonde hair, full, pink, plump lips, cerulean eyes that remind me of a peaceful ocean and long lashes so thick that they were clearly portrayed in the photograph and next to her stood the hunk, gazing at her as if he is the luckiest man in the world and the amount of love he had for her was evident in his honey-gold eyes; she seemed to be his only view.

The image strikes a chord in me and I don't even know why, was I jealous? Have I, unknowingly, in the five days I had known him, developed a slight crush on him?

No, couldn't be, nu-huh, not at all, not someone as stubborn and controlling as him who could, without me wanting, force answers out of me; not him who was my teacher. No. Fucking. Way.

I break away from him and pick up the I must have been silent for too long because he sees what, or rather who, my eyes had set upon and so he proceeds to explain,

"That's my fiancè, Alison."

My breath catches in my throat a little at the revelation and I take some time before responding,

"She's very pretty I must say."

"Indeed she is."

Something is amiss in his tone; somehow he doesn't seem like the Chase in the picture, the love struck Chase but rather a mature man or something like that.

I look at the picture again and notice how the lady in the picture gave off the same aura as Rebecca even though I hadn't met her yet and how she didn't seem to hold any affection whatsoever in her pretty eyes.

I hadn't noticed it before and wouldn't have now either if I hadn't listened to Chase's tone as carefully.

I put down the frame and look directly into his eyes only for him to stare back at me, I swear I feel a connection snap into place then but I am probably overdoing the entire situation, there could be no connection between an already engaged teacher and his broken student. None at all.

I get up to leave but before I can I quickly glance at him and request something from him,

"Sir, please treat me like the rest of the students in class not like some fragile, 'Do not touch' piece of a mother's delicate china cutlery."

The last thing I see before I reapply my lipstick and leave is one of his eyebrows being raised at my explicit analogy. He jokingly sends a military salute my way and I roll my eyes at his childish behaviour before walking out of his office with the weight of my new potential feelings resting on my shoulders alongside the other, ever-present burdens.