Teaching Willow: Session Three (3 page)

FOUR- EBON

I’m restless.  I feel like everything is in a flux and there’s little I can do about any of it. 

Although I haven’t heard from her again, I find that I’m constantly wondering when my mother will show up.  And how.  That’s a big pain in my ass.

Sage is a source of consternation, too.   I’ve called her several times and left messages, all to no avail.  I haven’t heard back from her. 

If something were wrong, surely I’d know.  Surely Willow would’ve said something.  Plus, she said Sage would “be back tomorrow,” which was yesterday.  Wednesday.  But it’s Thursday now and still no word.  I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what happens there.

And then there’s Willow. I can’t really risk going by to see Sage after what happened.  Willow’s kiss has set me back quite a bit.  I’d done a pretty good job of not thinking about her so much, of not focusing on how much I want her.  I owe a lot of that progress to Sage.  But now…with Sage being elusive and Willow having kissed me…hell if I’m not finding my way right back to square one.

I think above and beyond any of those things, however, is the niggling sensation that something is wrong.  Or that I’m missing something. 

Willow wasn’t in class yesterday, although considering her accident, I’m not entirely surprised.  I haven’t heard from Sage since we got back from the beach on Sunday.  Although those aren’t reasons to be suspicious of anything, still
, I am
.  The more I relive kissing Willow, the more suspicious I become.

Every time I replay it, I feel differently about it.  At the time, I was so taken aback by her actions that I just dove into it like a starving man. I felt as desperate and frantic as she seemed to feel.  But now, with each time I think back on it, I discover something else.  Something I missed before.  Like the fact that she smelled a little like Sage. I guess that’s nothing to write home about. I mean, they
are
sisters who live together.  Who’s to say they don’t share perfumes and bath products?  But that wasn’t the only thing.

Her lips, they felt…familiar.  One could argue that
that, too,
could be a product of her being Sage’s twin.  The feel of her body against mine…same thing.  They are identical. 

But the overall
feel
of the kiss was so easy, so
acquainted
that I find myself going back to it over and over and over again.  If I hadn’t known somehow (the glasses, maybe?) that it was Willow, would I have thought it was Sage?

The way she was dressed, the way she melted into me, the way she seemed to know my mouth, my body, my touch…yes!  I would’ve.

And that knowledge has been continually bringing me back to the moment when Sage quoted
Lady Chatterly’s Lover
after we had sex that last night at the beach.  It was so unlike her.  So very
like
Willow.  Is it enough to make me rethink everything?  By itself, probably not.  But when coupled with all these other oddities, I can’t help wondering.

Wondering…

But that’s ridiculous.  To think that they could…that they would…that I could
not have known…

No way.

Surely not.

Right? 

I run my fingers through my hair and pace the living room floor for the millionth time.

What the fuck is going on here?  Am I losing my mind or am I the victim of the second greatest con of my life?

FIVE- WILLOW

I stare down at the silent phone.  I resist the urge to listen to Ebon’s last message for the fourteenth or fifteenth time.  It came in Saturday night. I muted it, just like all the others.  Sage was here. I had no choice.  But even if she hadn’t been, I’m not sure I’d have done any differently.

I’m still no closer to figuring out what to do. I can’t bring myself to talk to him.  To talk to him would mean I’d have to end things with him.  I’m just not ready to do that yet.  Besides, with Sage around so much, it would be nearly impossible to tackle that kind of conversation anyway.

I suppose I could’ve gone to school today and tried to catch him after class.  I mean it
is
Monday, almost a week after my accident.  I feel fine.  In fact, I took off my shoulder brace this morning and very gently moved my arm.  It’s a little sore, but I don’t think I need to wear it for a whole other week.  Still, I didn’t go to class.  I just don’t think I can face him yet.  I need a plan first.

So I’m waiting.  Waiting for inspiration.  Waiting for some magical…
thing
to come along and tell me that it’s not over.  That I don’t have to give him up yet.  That there’s a way.

The jingle of a phone jars me from my thoughts.  My heart skips a beat, but only one.  It only takes that long for me to realize that it’s
my
phone ringing, not my “Sage” phone.

I sigh dejectedly.  Ebon hasn’t called in two days.  The situation may take care of itself without the need for intervention on my part.

I reach for my phone and check the screen. It’s Tiffany.  Probably checking on me. I haven’t talked to her in a while either.

“Hello?”

“Okay, whatever mysterious things are going on with you, please tell me that they’re not going to interfere with you coming to play practice tonight. It’s the next to last one before they start the shows at the end of the month.”

I swallow my second sigh. 

Shit.

“Of course I’m coming.  I wouldn’t do that to you.”  Although I would.  Because I’m as selfish as my sister sometimes. And I suck.

Tiffany doesn’t bother to hide
her
sigh.  “Good.  Phew.”

“I won’t be able to do dinner, though. I had a car accident last week and I’m still a little sore. I didn’t even go to class today.”

“Ohmigod, Willow!  Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just sore.  It’s no big deal.  I can still come to practice tonight. I just won’t be able to lift a lot, but I can help with the costumes and stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

I smile.  Poor Tiffany.  She deserves better than me.  “I’m sure.  I wouldn’t miss it.”

“You’re the best, Willow.”

“I wish you were right,” I say vaguely before we hang up.

It only takes about twenty minutes of the guilt of Tiffany’s call—a call that reminded me that I have a choice to make, that I
can choose
to be a better person than the one I’ve been portraying lately—to give me some much-needed resolve.  Even though it’s not what I really want to do, I know that I
have to
do something about Ebon.  At least talk to him.  I can’t keep doing this to either of us.  I owe him more than that.

So I make up my mind.  The next time he calls, I’ll answer.  I have no clue what the hell I’m going to say, but at least I’ll answer.

SIX- EBON

My restlessness has only gotten worse.  I couldn’t pace around my living room one more time without losing my goddamn mind, so I came out.  To go where, I don’t know. I just had to get out of the house.

I cruise the streets of Gainesville, stopping at the red lights and staring, unseeing, at the world as it goes on around me.  The hustle and bustle is evidence that the universe is uninterested in my thoughts and my cares.  This is my burden to bear. Mine alone. 

It’s when I’m sitting at one such stop light that I see her. 

The setting sun turns her coal-black hair to a waterfall of wet ink framing the heart shape of her face.  She’s standing with a group of people.  They’re preparing to take their seats along the sidewalk outside a quaint bistro near the college.  I know the place. It’s a hip little joint that the younger crowd likes to go to, a place that I have no interest in and the Sage that I’ve come to know probably wouldn’t either.  The Sage I
used to know
would.  But now? After really getting to know her?  No. I don’t think she would.

Unless the person I’ve been getting to know isn’t Sage.

Once more, my outlandish suspicions rise to the surface.  And once more, I question whether they’re really
that
outlandish.  With identical twins it would be possible.  If someone were unscrupulous enough to try it.

When the light turns green, I pull ahead through the intersection and then hit my blinker.  Impulsively, I ease into a diagonal parking spot in front of a framing shop a few doors down from the bistro.  When I look in my rear view mirror, I can see Sage perfectly.  She’s facing me, but talking to her friends, her expression animated as she talks and laughs.

I take out my phone and I scroll through my contacts until I see her number. My thumb hovers over the send button for a few undecided seconds before I press it.

As I listen to it ring, I watch Sage where she sits behind me.  She gives no indication that she hears her phone, which she may very well not if it’s in her purse or if the ringer is turned down low or shut off. 

Patiently, I listen expectantly.  I assume the voice mail will pick up.  Only it doesn’t.  I hear a click followed by a few seconds of silence before a softly familiar voice answers.

“Hello?”

The Sage behind me is laughing with her friends, yet here is the Sage that I know, the
voice
that I know on the other end of this call.

My pulse thuds and my mind races as I digest what’s happening, as I digest what
has been
happening.  All right under my nose.  All without me having a motherfucking clue.

Maybe it was simply a good con.  Or maybe it was simply that I
wanted
to believe I could love Sage.  Either way…

Holy.  Fucking.  Shit.

“Sage?” I nearly choke on the words.

“Hey, Ebon,” she responds calmly, naturally.

“You sound tired.”

“I am. It’s been a long few days.”

I bet it has.  Deception can be a bitch that way.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.  But we can talk later.  When you’re not so tired.”

I read a million different things into the next pause, things I never would’ve imagined having a place there before.  But now…

I realize I gave her the perfect out, but I have no intention of letting her off the hook so easily.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.  We can talk later.”  Already I’m thinking of how to handle busting this situation wide open.

“Okay,” she says in a small voice.  Something’s up.  Before I hang up, I hear her say my name.  “Ebon?”

“Yeah?”

Another long pause.  Another opportunity for me to see things differently. 

“I-I love you.  I always have.”

I feel the frown pucker my brow. 
This
I wasn’t expecting.  If the jig is up, then what the hell?

Considering that this is one big game, I find that my response is much different as well.  “What if I told you that I love you, too?”

I hear her gasp.

“D-do you?”

For the blink of an eye, I consider toying with her like she’s been toying with me.  But the thing is, I can’t bring myself to do it.  I’m not the heartless bastard that I thought I was.  No matter who it is she’s pretending to be, there’s a reason that Willow went to all this trouble to be with me, to get close to me.  And I believed her when she told me she was in love with me.  I still do.  And no matter how angry and betrayed I feel, no matter how much I hate a liar, I’m still not capable of saying something like that if I’m anything less than sincere.

It’s my turn to sigh.  “I don’t know, Sage.  I just…I don’t know.  Listen, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

I hang up, feeling no better than I did before I talked to her.  I need to see her.  I need to know without a doubt that this is what it appears to be.  There are still possible, albeit ridiculous, excuses for her answering the phone.  Maybe Sage asked her to. Who the hell knows?  Either way, I need to know for sure. I need to see Willow. 
As Willow. 

And I may know the perfect place to catch her. 

Even though she didn’t come to class, I’m betting that Willow will go to play practice.  If I’m right, she was avoiding
me
more than anything, but she will have no fear of seeing me at practice. 

Until she does.

For the first time in a few days, I find myself smiling.  It is entirely possible that I’m relishing the thought of this confrontation more than I should.  But damn if I can help it!

********

Although now I don’t know how I missed it, in some ways my mind is still struggling to wrap around the enormity of what I’m in the middle of.  All this time, the thing I’ve wanted most, the thing I’ve tried so hard to stay away from is the very thing I’ve been experiencing deeper and deeper feelings for.  Only I thought it was something else.  Some
one
else. 

I realize that the only thing that has kept me from
really
falling for Sage is Willow. But now, there’s nothing to keep me from falling, nothing to keep me from putting the mind and the soul that fascinate me together with the body that I can’t get enough of.  It’s actually quite perfect.

And quite the disaster.

Willow is my student.  Still.  And she has lied to me.  And not just a little lie.  This is a big fucking deal. She has gone to extreme lengths to deceive me, to trick me into being with her.  I know I’ll be furious when the shock wears off.  And when this need to confirm what I am 99% certain of is satisfied.  But right now,
that need
is consuming me more than anything.  Right now, all I can think about is having Willow
as Willow
. 

When I park outside the Arts Center and make my way inside to the Romeo and Juliet practice, I notice that there’s a slight tremor in my hands.  Anticipation.  I’m like a starving animal that has caught the scent of blood.  I’m a predator who has spotted his prey.  Nothing can keep me from it.  I’m determined.  My vision, my focus, my
drive
is singular.

Willow.  Tonight, I’m going to devour Willow.  And she’s going to let me. 
This
I know.  All roads have led here.  To her.  As much as I’ve tried to fight it, this was inevitable. 
She
was inevitable.

I yank open the door and walk inside.  I glance briefly at the stage as I make my way to Greg Hildenbrand, an old college friend/acquaintance as well as the play director for this production of Romeo and Juliet. 

I’m glad when I see two students approach him and the three of them bend their heads together and fall into a deep discussion.  He’s not the person I’m here to see.  Now I don’t have to pretend otherwise. 

I hook my thumbs into my front pockets and walk casually by, heading for the stage.  I nod and smile as I pass a few familiar faces, but I don’t linger.  My attention is still squarely concentrated on finding Willow.  And I’m almost certain I will.  The more I think about it, the more convinced I become that the only reason she wasn’t in class was because of our kiss last week and my subsequent rejection of her. 

My suspicion is confirmed when I spot Willow.  She’s handing a hat to another student.  Her arm isn’t immobilized anymore and she seems fine.

My pulse speeds up.  If I were truly a predator, I would be salivating.  Actually, I am.  Just thinking about tasting her this way—with no disguises, no apologies, no tricks or lies or misdirection—causes warm liquid to pool on my tongue.

I wait for her to finish speaking to the young girl to whom she was handing off the hat.  As she turns to go back to wherever she was going, her eyes sweep past me and then zoom back, clicking to a stop on my face. I see her cheeks bloom with color which does nothing to calm the raging beast inside me.

She looks left and right before she approaches me.  She moves slowly. I doubt it’s related to her accident. I think it’s related to me.  Just me.

“Willow,” I say with a nod when she stops in front of me.

“Mr. Daniels,” she replies meekly.  “What are you doing here?”

“I had a question for Mr. Hildenbrand, but now that I’ve run into you, I’d like to get your opinion on something.  Would you mind stopping by the classroom before you leave tonight?”

“
Your
classroom?”

“Yes.”

I see a mixture of panic, suspicion and curiosity shining from within her gaze.  I hold back a smile.  I want her to feel the pressure, feel the fear of being found out.  At least for a little while. It’s only fair after what she’s done.

“Su-sure,” she bumbles.  “Just give me a few minutes to finish up here and I’ll come right over.”

“Take your time,” I tell her, wondering what will be going through her mind during the minutes before she comes to meet me.  I seriously doubt it will be anything close to what will be going through mine.

With a polite smile, I turn and walk away. I can feel her eyes boring into my back.  Maybe even feel them drift down to my ass.  I hope she’s remembering what I look like naked, even though she’s not supposed to know.  Only her sister is. 

“But you’re one and the same, aren’t, wicked little Willow?” I say to the dark, empty hallway as I make my way out of the building and back to my car.  I can’t stop the delighted curl of my lips—a gesture of both anticipation and satisfaction—as I drive around to the other side of the campus where the Language building (and my classroom) is located.

I swing by my office to drop of some paperwork before I head to my Mod Lit classroom to await Willow.  At first I thought she might take her time, that she might be nervous.  But now, the more that I think about how anxious she must be carrying a secret like this and constantly fearing discovery, I think she’ll be along quickly.

I’ve only just entered the dark, stadium-style room when she arrives.  I left the door propped open, so it’s not the noise of the latch that alerts me to her presence.  And I’m facing away, so it’s not like I can see her.  No, it’s merely a sense of her presence that tells me she’s here.  Like every molecule in my entire body is attuned to her.  It has been for quite some time now.  And tonight, I’m practically humming with delicious expectancy.

“You wanted to see me?” comes her slightly husky voice from the doorway. 

I don’t turn.  “Shut the door please.”

I allow myself this one last smile before I compose my features. I can imagine her reaching for the door.  I bet she’s so unnerved that her hands are shaking.

I don’t look to see if she’s complying.  I simply wait to hear the click of the latch bolt slipping into place.  When it does, I still don’t turn.  I wait.

I don’t hear her shoes on the thin carpeting, but I feel her presence at my back when she comes to me.  I feel her and I smell her, the scent of her perfume wafting up to tease my nose.  It’s a mixture of whatever Sage wears and something that’s purely Willow.  Now,
now that I know
, I recognize it for what it is.  The best of both sisters, all in the package that I was never truly able to resist.

I say nothing. Neither does she. I simply wait.  Longer and longer, I wait. 

Finally when I can practically hear her tension reverberating through the room, I turn and smile my disinterested, professional smile.  “Your writing,” I begin casually, facing her fully and sliding my hands into my pockets.  I don’t want to touch her too soon.

“Yes?”  Her eyes are wide yet guarded, her lips trembling ever so slightly.

“You never mentioned school at all, presumably because the story was about Sage.  And Sage doesn’t go to school here, does she?”

Willow’s forehead wrinkles into a frown and she shakes her head.  However, she makes no audible response.

I step around her, moving close enough that my shoulder brushes hers.  She recoils as though I burned her.  I don’t smile, even though I want to.  I move to the desk that sits in the center of the open floor at the front of the classroom.  I glance back at Willow who has turned to watch me.