Click, click. I take some pictures of what’s left of the building. Nature has a way of destroying beautiful things. I wonder if that’s what happened to Ryan. If he was ruined or if he himself corrupts others. Or maybe both.
“You let your imagination run wild,” Pierce comments, tucking his hands inside his pockets. He is athletic. I can see it now. Bulging biceps and a broad back. He’s wearing khaki pants and a black V-neck shirt I would love to rip off of him. That means that he has some clothes on the boat, I realize, since he was wearing something else last night. My mind does run wild.
What if he stays the night again?
What if this time we sleep together?
“Where I come from, dreaming is what saves you.” I kick a little rock. We’re not really going anywhere, but we keep walking.
“And where I come from, too many dreams destroy you,” he says bitterly. I perk up. He’s never said anything about his past, present, or future to me before. “How so?”
“Well, you know the term helicopter parents? In Orange County, they are pretty much F-16 parents. They will push you to be better than the neighbor’s kid, no matter the price. Even if the price is the sanity of your child.”
“Am I supposed to feel bad for you?” I snort and immediately regret it. I don’t know his story. All I know is that something went wrong along the way. Pierce James is not a happy man. He is gorgeous, feared, and well-liked, and smiles so rarely.
“Giving you the pros and cons of every situation,” he says, undeterred by my attitude.
“Forever the debate teacher,” I say, which is again, dumb. I shouldn’t be reminding him that he is my teacher. I should be making him forget.
“Bad things happen in neighborhoods like mine,” I tell him, changing the subject.
“Bad things happen in families like mine,” he retorts, sighing.
We stop in the middle of nowhere, nothing but dust and dirt for miles. His stare makes me feel uncomfortable, and I shrug it off by smiling, but that just makes his brooding expression grow even madder.
“Are you having sex with your stepbrother?” he asks.
“What the fuck!” I push him away, my palms slapping against his chest. I spin on my heels and power-walk toward the car. What a prick. Who asks that kind of question, anyway? I race back to where we came from, but Pierce is taller and faster than me. He grabs my shoulder and spins me around. I lose it. Every ounce of self-control that’s left in me.
“Get the hell away from me!” I growl. His eyes are blank. He doesn’t give a damn about my little hissy fit.
“It’s a yes or no question, Remington.”
“Why do you care? You’re just my teacher, right?”
“We both know that’s not true.”
“Then what are we?” I put one hand over my jutted hip, my body language seductive, but my tone betrays me. I’m annoyed and embarrassed, but most of all, ashamed.
“You don’t get to ask me questions before you answer mine.”
“Why, because you’re my teacher?”
“No, because I’m a lot more than your teacher.”
That shuts me up. The nerve he has takes me by surprise. I want to laugh in his face. To tell him that he’s tripping, but he is right. He is a lot more than my teacher, and we haven’t even touched each other yet.
I wet my lips and huff. “I’m not sleeping with my stepbrother.”
“Have you ever?”
“No.”
“Have you done anything else inappropriate with him?”
“No.”
“At all?”