Chapter 11 Viviana #2
Tiptoeing back inside, I wash my face and change into my shorts and top, replaying that gleam in his eyes, sparking with a titillating promise.
All my good intentions of staying away for one weekend are eviscerated.
It’s a recurrent image I go to sleep with and wake up to—his eyes. They always jolt my heart as if reminding me whose it is.
My arms lift over my head, stretching, feeling invigorated. I’ll need my strength this weekend.
I don’t even suppress my smile once Evie wakes up.
“Morning,” I chirp.
She mumbles, not a morning person at all, “Only you, I swear.”
“Hey, being a morning person is in the job description.”
She waves me off. “That’s one thing coffee will solve.”
A nostalgic silence breaks out.
“Wouldn’t it be great if we both got jobs at the same preschool?” she sighs dreamily. “Maybe…”
“Yeah, maybe,” I murmur, hoping the air carries my wish so the right person grants it.
As I go to my classes, my thoughts run to what Evie said. I could picture it happening.
As if Tristan senses my distress, he calls, and I pick up as I pass some students in the hallway.
“Someone is missing me hard,” I say, trying to infuse as much cheer as possible.
“The less time separates us, the harder it becomes.”
But as if he senses my mood, he asks, “What is bothering my woman?”
“I’m a troubled woman having an illicit affair.”
“We’re not having a fucking affair.”
It does things to me whenever he vehemently confirms how strongly he feels about me, utterly confident in our future together. It makes the entire ordeal bearable.
“Evie and I wish nothing more than to teach in the same school, but we know we can’t. Because I am who I am, and well, she’s who she is,” I sigh, seeing no harm in confessing.
“You two are that close?”
“Yes, she is my best friend. With her, I don’t have to…”
“Pretend. I know, baby. I’m glad you found each other.”
“She’s not happy, Tristan. This life in the shadows is not for her. She’s meant to shine.”
I don’t think I am betraying Evie, but I am getting worried. Maybe if she moved to New York, teaching and not hiding her real identity would help her.
He draws in a lungful of air. I know he comes from a good place, trying to protect her and keep her safe. Anonymity ensures you can live unbothered.
“Have to go to my next class. See you soon. Love you.”
The words slip out of my mouth with such ease, I freak out and hang up. Oh my god. I slap a palm on my mouth, not believing the complete cut between the filter from my brain to my mouth.
The world spins, and I brace a hand on the wall and palm my chest in a desperate attempt to calm the erratic beating that threatens to burst any moment. Not me just confessing my feelings for him while our relationship is so fresh.
He must think I am insane. I debate shutting off my phone and disappearing somewhere untraceable, where I can face my embarrassment in peace when my phone rings in my hand. One jarring ring after another jolts my nerves while I remain paralyzed in place.
Remembering that I promised I won’t worry him by not answering, it yanks me out of my stupor. Inhaling deeply, I answer, remaining perfectly still, exercising myself in invisibility.
“You have to tell me something, and this time don’t hang up.”
I gulp. “You mean the…?”
“The ‘I want you to own your feelings part,’ yes.”
“Do you own yours?” I breathe out, wishing he feels the same, so we can share this marvelous conundrum. Being left alone in my love would be unbearably cruel, burying me under a merciless weight until I slowly asphyxiate.
“Then I did a shitty job this month at showing you how fucking deep I am with you.”
That instantly pulls a smile on my face, easing me. “I freaked out.”
“I got that.”
“But I also kind of want to say it to your face,” I say, emboldened enough that I could shout it from the top of my lungs.
“I accept that.”
“So understanding. What did you do to my demanding man?” I ask in a teasing tone.
“He’s still there, itching to prove something to his brat of a woman,” he groans, his voice betraying he’s on edge, losing patience.
“Sure, you can try.”
“Fuck, I’m mad about you.”
Good, because if I were alone in this beautiful mess, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself except go insane.
I giggle in reply, and he says, “Four more hours, three minutes, and twenty seconds.”
Feeling delighted he is even more desperate, I end the call, and my entire day brightens as I finish today’s classes.
I return to my dorm to change and pack when there’s a knock on my door.
Hmm, maybe Evie forgot her key. It wouldn’t be the first time.
I rush to open it, coming face to face with Dario, his poker face on, not revealing if he found out and is about to berate me, forcing me to end my relationship with Tristan.
Nerves wreak havoc in my belly, turning me into a jittery mess. But then I remember my superpower—acting. I school my features while my pulse spikes; the trepidation makes my knees go weak. He has the worst possible timing.
I force a smile, hoping I don’t look as guilty as I am.
“I feel ignored. I thought we were friends,” he says good-naturedly, the genuine smile erasing my worry.
A tiny breath of air escapes my mouth, calming down. “You lead a busy life.”
“I’ll always make time for you,” he assures me, saying, “Let’s go grab dinner.”
I can’t refuse him, or he’ll suspect something.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, my voice cracking at the end.
His eyes narrow into an earnest expression. “Are you sure you’re okay? You can tell me anything, you know that, right?”
I wave him off. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
We go to our go-to diner on campus, and as stealthily as I can, I type Tristan a text.
Something came up. I need one more hour.
My palms turn clammy with every second he doesn’t reply while I try my best to participate in the conversation with Dario.
Usually, I am all for hearing about his escapades.
“What is it with you and taken women?” I shake my head at him, worried that he’ll meet the wrong man at some point.
He shrugs. “They can’t demand more.”
I pin him with a hard glare, and he brushes my concern away. “Don’t worry.”
“Of course I worry.”
I find his hand on the table, and he eyes me with a sad look as if he could only feel something more. I know because I’ve been looking at him the same way until recently.
The hour passes as slowly as a snail crossing the street, unaware that a car could crush it any second now.
His time is limited, and I should appreciate his effort more. Besides Evie, he’s my only other friend. On top of guilt, I now feel bad as well.
He walks me back to the dorm, and I hug him. “Thank you for finding time for me.”
“Always,” he says and kisses my cheek.
He climbs into his car, and I wave at him, just in time to notice whose car is parked a few feet away.
Fuck.