Chapter 12
Twelve
Lucas
“ R ise and shine, Miss Green.”
Standing over Sadie’s bed in the guest room, I cross my arms over my chest and wait for her to show signs of life. It’s past nine and I know she worked late. She’s lying on her side, curled up in the fetal position, hugging a pillow to her front with her long red hair braided over her shoulder.
Her lips are parted, and her cheeks are red. She looks so at peace, and part of me hates having to wake her up.
“Miss Green,” I say again, nudging her on the leg. She stirs but doesn’t wake up.
I let out a disgruntled sigh as I glance around the room. Her dirty clothes are piled in the corner, and there’s a pile of empty water bottles on the nightstand. She really is like Isaac.
It’s infuriating.
She’s been here for two weeks now, and for the most part, it’s been uneventful. She spends a lot of time at work or studying, but when she is here, I notice quirky little habits that drive me insane. Like how she is constantly singing something, even when there’s no music playing. She dances in her seat when she eats, and she leaves her shoes all over the house instead of in their place by the door like I’ve told her.
But even with all of that, we haven’t had another incident like we did in the classroom. I still don’t understand what came over me that day. I’ve never done anything like that in my life, and I still worry that it was wrong. Even if she said she liked it.
It’s one thing to assume Sadie wants that and another to think she’s just saying that to please me. Communication isn’t my strong suit, and having conversations like that isn’t easy for me.
And it’s pretty obvious how much communication is required for something like this.
“Sadie!” I bark, and finally, she jumps, her eyes popping open as she stares up at me in shock.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
When she rolls onto her back, the thin tank top of her pajamas shifts, and her breast slips out of the top. Quickly, I turn away and rid the image of her pretty pink nipple from my memory.
“It’s past nine, and your appointment is in an hour,” I say, keeping my tone steady.
“Oh shit,” she replies with a groan.
I leave the room as she crawls out of bed, but before I leave, I think about making a remark about the mess in her room or the fact that she should really set an alarm on her phone, but when I glance back, I notice just how defeated she appears, so I decide to save it for another time.
Going into the kitchen, I keep myself busy by fixing some breakfast. I ate mine two hours ago, but I don’t have a class on my schedule today so I have nothing better to do.
When Sadie comes out a few moments later, her hair brushed in long waves and hints of makeup on her face, I place a bowl of granola with fruit and yogurt on the table next to a glass of juice.
“Eat,” I say as I turn away and head back to the kitchen for another cup of coffee.
“I’m not hungry,” she replies, sitting on the couch and slipping on her shoes.
I pause with my back to her and grind my molars together. “I fixed you breakfast, and you shouldn’t be skipping meals. You have time before your appointment. So eat.”
When she gets up from the couch, she doesn’t head toward the dining room like I expect her to. Instead, she fumbles with her hair, clearly frustrated with it, as she stares in the mirror by the front door.
“Miss Green,” I say in a warning. “Did you hear me?”
“Don’t start with me today, Dr. Goode. I’m not in the mood.”
My coffee cup lands loudly on the counter as I stare at her across the house. “I don’t care if you’re in the mood. You will eat breakfast,” I say.
“Ugh!” She grunts in frustration as she starts fidgeting with her shirt, pulling it down to reach the waistband of her skirt, but it’s clearly not to her satisfaction. “Only nine weeks and nothing fits me already! I hate this stupid shirt! And I hate my hair.”
“Miss Green…” I call when I notice her starting to fly off the handle.
She finally rips off her shirt before tearing off her shoes, and I notice her lip starting to tremble.
“Come sit down,” I say again as I make my way into the living room. But it does nothing to stave her breakdown.
“I can’t do this!” she screams. Her face is red, and tears are brimming in her eyes. “I can’t go to this stupid appointment, and I can’t have this baby!”
“Sadie, sit down!” I shout, thinking it will snap her out of her fit.
It doesn’t.
She gapes at me in shock before picking up one of her shoes and sending it hurling toward my head. I manage to dodge it just in time. “Stop yelling at me!” she shouts.
I turn to find the shoe lying on my kitchen counter, and I’m too stunned to move. Turning back toward her, my jaw still hangs open like a fish.
For what feels like minutes, I stand in the middle of the room at a loss for words. Finally, Sadie drops to the floor, her back to the wall as she sobs into her folded arms.
Clenching my jaw and forcing myself to swallow, I make my way slowly toward her. Standing over her, I watch her cry without knowing what I’m supposed to say in this moment. She wanted me to be firm with her and to tell her what to do, but that clearly didn’t work today.
And finally I see what it is she’s feeling. She’s not angry or defiant—she’s scared.
She once said my confidence brings her comfort.
Kneeling down next to her, I run a hand softly over her head. At first, she flinches, trying to push me away. But then, as I do it again, she leans into my touch.
Once her tears have subsided, I stand back up and rest my hands on my hips.
“Get up.”
She sniffles before glancing up at me. “I can’t do this,” she cries.
“Yes, you can. Now, get…up.”
When she doesn’t move after a moment, a look of defeat washing over her, I reach down and pet my hand softly over her head again, this time touching her as if I’m admiring her.
“One thing at a time,” I say as our eyes meet. “And first, I want you to show me you can get up.”
Her hand reaches up and takes mine. Then, slowly and with a shaky breath, she rises from the floor. When she’s on her feet, she stares at me as if waiting for the next step.
“Good girl,” I say. “Now, go sit at the table.”
“But—”
“No buts. Go sit at the table. Now.”
She subtly nods before moving around me to the dining room table. I pick up her shirt from the floor and bring it to her as she sits down in front of her breakfast. Draping the shirt on the back of her chair, I stroke her head again.
As I stand next to her, I feel her lean toward me, and I let her. Her head rests against my side, and she breathes loudly as if trying to keep the tears from returning.
“I want you to eat,” I say. “I know you can do that for me.”
Again, she nods. With a sniffle, she takes the spoon and picks at the fruit first. She doesn’t eat much, but it’s something, and it’s enough for me. I’ve never gained such satisfaction from watching someone eat before, but I swear I could sit here and feed Sadie all day. I want to watch her fill her belly. I want to see her full and sated.
This is inappropriate. I realize that now. This relationship between us is not the way a professor should be acting with his student, but as long as we’re not having sex, then I’m innocent. I just have to resist any sort of sexual temptation, and I’m fine.
When Sadie sets down her spoon and takes a sip of juice, she places her hands in her lap and lets out a sigh.
“Good job,” I say.
It’s quiet for a moment, and I start to anticipate what she’ll say even before the words leave her lips.
“Will you…” She swallows. “Will you come with me?”
Inappropriate .
That word rings so many times in my head that it starts to lose its meaning. I mean, we’ve already crossed into this forbidden territory with living together and the spanking, so what harm is me driving her to her doctor’s appointment?
If anyone were to see me accompanying my student outside of campus—especially when she starts to look pregnant—I’d lose my job.
Oh well. I never liked this job much anyway.
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry for freaking out. These mood swings are… ”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I say, clearing my throat and picking up her dishes. “Just get your shoes on.”
“Yes, sir,” she replies with a hint of humor.
But I don’t laugh because it doesn’t feel like a joke, not anymore. I don’t know what’s happening between Sadie and me, but we are falling into roles I don’t entirely understand. Roles that feel natural and wrong at the same time. And it’s something I don’t know if I’d stop, even if I could.