Mr Blackwell: Teacher Student Romance (8 page)

33

I get up and walk along the path towards the main college buildings.

It’s beautiful here.

I love Ivy College at night. It’s so still.

The red-brick buildings are grey silver and the turrets are surrounded by stars.

I fell in love with this college as soon as I saw it. Londoners thought I was going to tear the place down, but nothing could be further from the truth.

I love old buildings. I love anything that stays in one place for a long time.

It was the ivy on these buildings that made me decide to buy. Another investor was competing over the college and wanted to rip it all off. Repair the brickwork underneath. But ivy protects, as well as destroys.

Ivy College with no ivy was a dreadful thought. So I bought the building, ivy and all.

Midnight.

I should go. It’s doing me no good being here. Knowing Sophia is sleeping nearby. She’s in the tall tower, an innocent princess with a beast lurking outside.

I wonder if she’s asleep. Or whether, like me, she’s obsessing over something that can never be.

As I head towards my car, I see the woods in the distance and remember Sophia walking through them on her first day of college.

In my mind, I see her standing at the edge of the trees, looking startled as I watched her from the car park.

I had to blink a few times to make sure she was real – a bare-footed angel under a pinky-white morning sky.

God, she was beautiful.

Leaves in her hair, feet damp from paddling in the lake.

When I think of the women I meet in Hollywood with their stiff hair and thousand-dollar gowns … to be so free. So natural.

Suddenly, I need to see the lake.

I walk quickly, a man who has lost all control, pushing past dark tree trunks.

The moon lights my way, and for a moment all I can hear is my own footsteps and an owl hooting. But as I get nearer the lake, I hear something else.

A gentle splash of water. And then another.

What is that? A water bird?

I creep closer.

God
.

My heart pounds.

It’s Sophia.

You’re halfway through!

Hope you’re liking the story so far, but hold on tight because there are about to be some explosions …

I’d love to give you a little window into my writer’s world and show you the Pinterest board I used whilst writing this book.

It’s here:

uk.pinterest.com/suzykquinn/ivy-lessons/

No more interruptions I promise.

See you at the end, lovely lady.

Suzy K Quinn xx

34

Sophia is in the lake. Actually
walking
in the lake at gone midnight.

She’s singing, smiling at the silvery water.

I stop dead.

What the hell is she doing, out here at night on her own? It’s dark. It’s dangerous.

My heart actually aches.
Aches
for her.

I want to protect her, love her and … and have her … all at once. The conflict is too much.

I feel like my body will be ripped in two.

How can I love someone like this? Knowing what I want to do to her? The two things can’t exist together. It’s impossible.

I’m about to call out her name, when the unthinkable happens.

Sophia slips and falls, tumbling into the water.

I don’t think I’ve ever moved so quickly.

In seconds, I’m waist deep in water, jabbing my hands into the icy cold.

I find Sophia’s wrist and pull her free.

She coughs and splutters, barely able to breathe at first.

Then she opens her eyes. Her breathing calms when she sees me.

At first I’m too angry to speak. Then I snap, ‘What on earth were you playing at?’

I’ve never known protectiveness like this. It’s primal. To have her in my arms … I never want to let her go.

‘I … nothing,’ she replies, her voice shaking with cold. ‘I didn’t mean to fall.’

I frown.

No – of course you didn’t mean to fall. You’d never mean to do anything so stupid. Because you’re perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

The way her skin gleams in the moonlight, how her frail body feels in my arms … it’s almost too much to bear. And to think of what could have happened to her. If I hadn’t been here …

My jaw goes hard.

‘What the hell were you doing out here at night?’ I say. ‘You could have drowned.’

She begins to tremble, and my jaw softens. Her pyjamas and dressing gown are soaking wet. Literally dripping a path on the forest floor. She must be freezing. I need to get her somewhere warm.

‘How did you know I was out there?’ she asks, her voice so light and young.

Why is this happening? It’s bad enough I fall for a student – why does it have to be this perfect,
perfect
girl?

‘I was in the theatre building,’ I tell her. And it’s true. I was. I don’t tell her why. I don’t tell her I was thinking of her. And that I came to the lake because I was thinking of her and needed to be close to her memory.

‘I heard someone prowling around out here,’ I say. Still the truth.

‘I didn’t mean to fall in.’

No. Of course she didn’t. Lovely, good Sophia. She just wanted to be in the woods. Somewhere natural. It didn’t occur to her that it could be dangerous. I doubt she even sees dark woodlands as dangerous.

I carry her to the car park and open the door of my Ford Mustang.

‘In here,’ I say, lowering her to the car seat. ‘You’ll warm up much quicker in the car.’

It’s true that I can warm the car faster than the old, draughty rooms at Ivy College. But a primal part of me wants her here. In my space. My territory. Alone with me.

I realise I am terrified that this beautiful, fragile young girl will become sick with cold. And I can’t stand the thought of her enduring one moment of pain.

That’s when I know for certain. There is no doubt now.

My stomach clenches tight.

I love her.

35

‘But I’m drenched,’ says Sophia, as I put her in the car. ‘I’ll ruin your seats.’

I almost want to laugh. She has no idea how I feel. How can she? To think I care about the car seats. I’d take a hammer to this car if it would make her more comfortable.

‘I don’t give a damn about the seats,’ I snap. ‘All I care about is stopping you from getting hypothermia. Christ, what were you thinking? If I hadn’t been there ...’

Blood pulses in my temples. I push thoughts away. Horrible thoughts. The idea of a world without her in it …

Christ.

I’m in trouble. I shouldn’t feel this way. It just can’t be.

‘I’m glad you found me,’ she whispers.

So am I.

Using every ounce of self-control, I lean over and slot my key into the ignition.

My breathing quickens as I feel her body under my arm. She’s soaked through and trembling, and it’s all I can do to stop myself tearing off her clothes and pulling her into my arms.

The dashboard lights up and I turn the heater dial to maximum. But it won’t be enough. Not when she’s sitting here in these wet things.

‘Take your clothes off,’ I bark, trying to make the words sound formal. A normal sort of instruction.

‘Wh … what?’ she stammers, and I feel a jab in my heart. She knows perfectly well what taking her clothes off for a man could mean.

I’ve embarrassed her and I feel actual pain in my chest.

Has she taken her clothes off for other men?

I feel a flash of anger at that thought. If anyone, any man, ever hurt her … humiliated her …

‘Your clothes,’ I say, my voice curt. Formal. The strict teacher dealing with a wayward pupil. ‘Now. Before you catch your death. I have running clothes in the trunk. You can put those on.’ I pause. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t watch.’

And she really has nothing to worry about. Because I have absolutely no desire to see her naked. Or to put it another way, I have far too much desire. Which means I know how dangerous it could be. Christ, what her naked body would do to me … my self-control is already hanging by a thread.

I fetch her my running gear from the trunk – a grey sweatshirt and jogging bottoms. I try not to think of her bare skin touching my clothes.

‘Put these on,’ I say, throwing the clothes at her and slamming the passenger door closed.

I turn around and fold my arms, frowning at the dark turrets of the college.

The ivy hangs in bulky shadows from the college walls. It looks soft, almost pillowy, in the moonlight.

I imagine laying Sophia down on a bed of thick ivy and …

No
.

I shake the thought away, uncomfortably aware that she could be completely naked by now. I can sense her movements, the car bobbing slightly against my back.

Then there is stillness.

I take a quick glance, and see she is dressed in my running gear, lost in folds of grey.

I walk around the car and jump in the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed.

There’s tension in the car. The air is heavy with unspoken words – mine and hers.

She feels something for me. I know that. But … it’s a different sort of something than I’m used to. She’s not looking at what she can get from me. She sees more than just Marc Blackwell the actor. The teacher. She sees
me
. Which is fucking terrifying.

So many women have come and gone. But none of them saw me. Not one. They said they loved me, and perhaps some of them did in a way. They certainly loved what I did for them. But what they really saw was an illusion. A character. A hero in a movie. They didn’t see the real me.

The silence is suddenly unbearable, and I feel I have to break it or else I’m going to do something stupid. Like pull Sophia onto my lap, grasp her hair at the nape of her neck and kiss her.

‘Better?’ I ask, feeling the heating ducts. They’re blasting out hot air, and I know she’ll be warm and dry soon. Which is a relief.

‘Yes thank you,’ she says, but she’s still shivering.

Every instinct in my body tells me to grab her. To pull her into my arms and chase away the cold. But I can’t.

I can’t
.

She is a student. I am her teacher. This cannot and will not ever be. I will not let it be. She is good and pure and innocent and I will not ruin her. She deserves better. A white knight. Not a monster.

That silence again. It presses on my heart.

‘Would you like to tell me what you were doing, paddling in the lake at gone midnight?’ I ask.

‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she says. ‘I ... was nervous about my audition result.’

I hate that. To think that I could have caused her a moment’s pain …

I want to tell her that her audition was perfectly fine. Better than most of the other students, in fact. And certainly good enough to progress. She has a lot to learn, but that’s what she’s here for.

Her fingers are shaking in her lap, and I can’t take my eyes off them. They’re so slim and delicate. Vulnerable.

I don’t mean to touch her, but I can’t help myself. Not when she’s cold like this. I grab her shivering fingers roughly, and hold them against the heating duct.

She flinches at my roughness, and I’m glad. She should see me for what I am – an angry, compassionless monster.

‘I just want to warm you up,’ I tell her. ‘Rub your fingers together.’

‘You must think I’m such an idiot,’ she says.

I put my hands on the steering wheel and grip it tightly, holding on for dear life.

‘No. I don’t think you’re an idiot,’ I tell her, my chest softening. ‘I understand why you love walking in those woods. I love them too. Just don’t go to the lake on your own again. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ she says, rubbing her fingers together. ‘I’m so sorry about your car.’

I frown. She really doesn’t get it. Good, pure, lovely Sophia. So naïve. So oblivious to the way she’s making me feel. I wonder how many men have fallen in love with her. It must be hundreds. Thousands.

I can’t imagine a man who wouldn’t be obsessed with her innocence. It’s mesmerising. But I can’t imagine other men would want to destroy that innocence the way I do.

Yes – I want to hold her. To protect her. Even be gentle. But I also want to tie her down. To totally dominate her. To have her submit to me. To make her explore parts of herself she’s never seen. And to experience pleasure in ways she’s never known.

As I sit beside her, our unspoken words thick in the air, I am certain – totally certain – that she would enjoy being dominated.