Teach Me (22 page)

I
want to throw her off of him, tear those arms off, go feral. But
that’s not fair.
It’s obvious from
the shock on her face that she didn’t
know about me, either. Jack hid me from everyone in his life, just
like he hid Hannah Butler’s
existence from me. He could have
mentioned
he had a past with someone else at the university. He could have
prepped me before he let me walk into this fucking soap opera of a
situation, and at his father’s
funeral, no less.

Hannah
and Jack break apart (
finally
),
and then his mother descends, followed hard on her heels by an array
of aunts. Jack introduces me to each of them in turn, while I offer
whatever condolences I can.

I
notice he doesn’t
introduce me to Hannah. Is he aware that I know her already?

Her
eyes keep flicking to mine, which I notice because mine are doing the
same to her. I wonder if she suspected. I wonder if he’s
done this kind of thing with other students before. I wonder if I’m
just some sort of weird revenge he’s
trying to get on her, or if I’m
a bargaining chip in their rocky relationship.

Whatever
it is, I’m clearly
not what I thought. I’m
not an exception to the rule. I’m
not his girlfriend. I’m
not the woman he’s
falling in love with.

I’m
the side candy.

I
should have stormed out that instant, except that people had started
to trickle in behind us, enough that it would look weird to leave
right now, but not so many people that I can blend into the crowd and
slip away. I decide to pay my respects, stay for the service, and
then escape out a side door before they start in on hors d’oeuvres
or whatever British families do at wakes.

Except
they haven’t even
started on any kind of service before Hannah draws Jack to the side,
away from his family, who are greeting attendees and accepting a lot
of condolences with sad nods. I trail after the two of them while
keeping my eyes fixed on the nearest flower arrangement. Hannah
doesn’t seem to mind
being overheard, though. Almost the moment they’ve
broken away from the receiving line of family members, she grips his
arm hard.

“What
the hell is
she
doing here?” Hannah
says.

“Keep
your voice down, would you?”
Jack mutters, as a couple of people who I heard talk about living in
the neighborhood glance in their direction.

“I
will not keep my voice down while you’re
dragging around one of my
students
as if she’s your new
bloody date. And at your father’s
funeral? What the hell is wrong with you? She’s
a child, Jack. I know you’re
pissed at me, but don’t
use her as some kind of pawn for revenge.”

I
don’t stick around
to hear his response. I whirl on my heels, ducking through the
oncoming crowd of people. Screw this. Screw propriety. I can’t
stay here now, not after hearing that.

Out
of the corner of my eye, I spot Kat looking at me, trying to wave me
over, mouthing something. I just shake my head at her, tears already
springing up to blur my vision. Then I burst through the doors of the
funeral home and out into the cold night air of northern England.

#

Of
course, the moment I step outside, it dawns on me that I have no
bloody clue where I am, let alone how to make it home. There’s
probably a bus from Newcastle to Oxford, or a train if I could afford
a ticket, but first I’d
have to figure out a way from this neighborhood back into town
itself. Maybe the bus runs both directions. Maybe I can find the
other stop somewhere on this side of the road.

I
pace away from the door, staring at the signs, when the funeral home
doors burst open again.

“Harper?”
Jack stands framed by the glow from the windows. His hair is tousled,
the same way it looks when he wakes up first thing in the morning and
squints at me. The same way it looked earlier this afternoon when he
lifted me up in the dressing room, his hands tight around my thighs.

It
breaks my heart to gaze into his eyes and think about not ever
looking at him again. To think about him not seeing me the same way,
either.

“Kat
said she saw you running out here, and you looked upset. Is
everything okay?” He
takes a step closer to me.

I
have to laugh at that, sharp and cold. “Is
everything
okay
?”

“What’s
wrong?” He says it
like he honestly has no idea. Like I’m
totally crazy for trying to choke back the tears burning through my
skull right now.

“You’ve
got to be kidding me. You bring me to your own father’s
funeral to try to make your ex or whatever jealous in front of
your
entire family,
and you
want to know what’s
wrong?”

His
jaw clenches, all the warmth melting from his expression. “I
just got finished defended your maturity and now you’re
being even more immature than your age suggests.”

“Immature?
Coming from you that’s
rich. This has all been a game to you, hasn’t
it?” I manage to say
this without my voice catching, even though my head throbs at the
very thought. It’s
something I’ve been
wondering for a while now, though. The way he constantly pushes me
away, the way he hides everything.

“Just
come back inside and stop acting insane, Harper. The jealous kid act
isn’t attractive.”

I
set my jaw hard. “You
know what, Jack? No. I’m
sorry about your father, I really truly am, and I hope that this
whole mess doesn’t
affect you or your family’s
chance to say goodbye. But I’m
done. Acting like I’m
crazy for being upset that you never mentioned your ex-girlfriend or
whatever, aka
my
professor
, would be
here, is not okay. Writing me off as a
kid
is not okay. None of this is okay, and if you don’t
see how fucked up this situation has become, Jack, then I’m
sorry, but you’re
the one who’s got
maturity issues to work on.”

“You’re
right,” he says,
staring straight into my eyes. “I
must have a problem, thinking I could date someone ten years younger
than me seriously.”

In
that moment, I don’t
even recognize him anymore. I whip around and storm up the street.
Screw the bus. I’ll
walk
back to Newcastle if I need to.

Behind
me, I can hear the funeral doors swinging, raised voices. Maybe
Hannah’s come out to
berate Jack some more for his treatment of her. Whatever. I probably
agree with her at this point.

But
then heels clack on pavement behind me, and I freeze in place. She’s
not trying to talk to
me
,
is she? She wouldn’t.
It’s obvious she’s
won by now. I’m
leaving. Bad evil side candy girl is gone. Now Hannah and Jack can
live happily ever after.

But
it’s not Hannah who
catches up to me, puffing out steam as she catches her breath. “Hey,”
says Jack’s sister
Kat. “I’m
sorry about him. Listen, here. Raul!”
she shouts over her shoulder.

A
handsome guy in a suit—the
one who’d been
texting in the corner, I realize—paces
toward us.

“I
can’t leave right
now,” Kat says, “or
I’d take you myself.
But Raul will drive you into Newcastle. Drop her at the train
station, love. There’s
trains to Oxford pretty frequently, if that’s
what you want. Or it’s
close to your hotel, I think.”

I’m
so stunned that for a moment I can only blink. I wish I could manage
a smile, because it’s
unbearably sweet of her to ask her boyfriend to drive me into town
while she’s powering
through her own father’s
funeral. I shake my head. “You
need him here, with you. I’ll
find my own way back.”
I force a smile at her.

Kat
frowns at me for a few more seconds, before she finally nods. “Okay,
but here.” She
extends a hand, and it takes me a moment to realize she wants my
phone. She plugs in a number. “That’s
the taxi company in this area. They won’t
overcharge you
too
much.” She manages a
smile.

All
I can offer in return is a weak nod. “Thank
you.”

Kat
swoops in to plant a kiss on my cheek. “No
problem. Thank you, for putting up with my big brother. I have a
feeling we’ll meet
again,” she says
before she jogs away.

I
only wish I could believe that.

“She’s
a child, Jack. I know you’re
pissed at me, but don’t
use her as some kind of pawn for revenge.”
Hannah shakes her head at me, the way I’ve
seen her do with students who failed to pass her exams.

My
blood boils red. Literally, I see red at the corners of my vision,
and it takes me a few breaths to calm down enough to even reply.
How
dare she
. After
everything I’ve put
up with from her, to assume that this whole thing is still about
her
?

“If
that’s all you think
she is to me, then you’re
even more delusional than I thought, Hannah,”
I reply, my voice low and dangerous. I grasp her elbow, direct her
toward a far corner, because whatever else she manages to accomplish
today, she is
not
going to fuck up this funeral for my family. They deserve better than
that. And even if they can’t
see how manipulative she’s
become, I see it now.

I
finally see it all.

“What
the hell are you doing here, Hannah?”
I hiss by the time we’ve
backed far enough away from the crowd that the only person who can
likely hear us is my Uncle Ralph, who seems to be absorbed in the
dirty magazine he’s
sneaking behind a Bible he borrowed from a pew, anyway.

“Your
father just died, Jack. You’re
not thinking straight.”
She lifts a hand, tries to touch my face.

I
step out of reach, my face hard. “On
the contrary. For the first time in a long time, I am finally
thinking straight. All this time, I thought I could never settle
down, never be happy with someone, because it didn’t
work with you. Everyone said you were perfect for me; if we didn’t
click, I must be the defective one. But now I finally see it, Hannah.
It’s not me. It’s
us.
This
.”
I wave a hand between us. “This
is all wrong. And this has been over for years. Hell, it was doomed
before we even started. Move on, Hannah. Stop telling my friends
we’re getting back
together, stop following me around. Stop talking to my family like
they’re yours. Stop
showing up at events like this uninvited.”

Hurt
blooms across her face and I almost want to take it back. Almost.
Except that I remember the hurt she made grow on Harper’s
face, the moment she crossed the room toward us, so I make myself
keep talking. For Harper’s
sake. And for Hannah’s,
too. If she’s ever
going to be happy, she needs to move the fuck on, because it’s
never going to be with me.

“Harper
is the one.”

“She’s
a
student
,
Jack. You can’t
possibly—”

“She’s
the one,” I repeat
stubbornly. “I
wasn’t sure of it
before, but I am now. Age is a number—maturity
comes in more forms than just being old. Hell, Harper’s
far more mature than I am. She is the person that I want to be with,
right now, and who knows? Maybe for good. Hopefully for good. All I
know is that I want to give what she and I have a real chance, and
for that to work, I need to be straight with you. We’re
done, Hannah. I wish you all the best, but it’s
over.”

Her
eyes fill with tears now. Real, big tears that slide down her cheeks
unchecked. She stands there for a minute, as if waiting for me to
recant. To say oops, my mistake, actually all of your lying to our
friends and emotionally manipulating me have worked after all.

I
just watch her, and I wish it didn’t
have to come to this, but it did.

Finally,
the message must sink in. She spins on her heel and flees the room,
hands over her face. Luckily, my mother doesn’t
catch this, and the only aunt who notices doesn’t
tell her. She only glowers at me before joining the conversation
Mum’s having with an
old neighbor.

I
lean against the pew and let out an exhausted sigh. That has been a
long, long time coming. It feels good to have finally gotten it off
my chest.

That’s
when a soft laugh interrupts me. In surprise, I glance down at Uncle
Ralph, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Well
it’s about time you
saw through her, son,”
he says. His hand dips into his pocket and produces a narrow flask,
which he offers to me over the pew. “Shot
of courage before you chase down the other one?”

I
straighten my shoulders. “What
do you mean?”

He
jerks a thumb toward the door, where Kat is gesturing at me, and
panicked, wide-eyed expression on her face. Only then do I scan the
room and realize, my heart sinking in my chest: No Harper.

Shit.

“I’ll
be back,” I mutter,
ignoring the proffered whiskey and heading straight for the doors.

#

I’m
not sure what happened. One moment there was me and her, ready to
move forward with our lives, ready to try and be something real. The
next, Hannah shows up and—
No
.

I
can’t blame her. I
have to take responsibility for the fucking idiotic things that I
said to Harper. This is my fault.

I’m
the one that needs to fix it.

I
hit redial again, for the third time in as many hours. More than I’ve
called anyone in . . . possibly
ever, to be honest. I’ve
never been the kind of person who chases someone.

Until
now.

Straight
to voicemail, just like all the other times. “Harper,”
I say, and I hope my voice doesn’t
sound as slurred as it does in my head. I grip the whiskey I’m
drinking tighter—Uncle
Ralph left me with the full bottle after the funeral finished. Kat
dropped me off at the hotel where I was supposed to be spending the
night with Harper—her
suitcase still stands in the corner of the room, her pajamas laid out
on top of it, her toothbrush in the bathroom. She didn’t
come back for any of her things.