The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 13 | Lover's Lane

Summary: Spencer and Bunny have a heart to heart (and a little bit more on Lover's Lane).

A/N: Reminder that I regularly post sneak peeks, answer questions, and update y'all on any posting irregularities on my Tumblr!

Content Warning: Yelling, verbal argument, pushing, kissing, heavy petting, brief allusion to a handjob, embarrassment, security officers

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"Can you come in early tomorrow? We need to talk."

The text had been unanswered for over 12 hours, but I couldn't stop staring at it like it would change. I kept my hope in the young girl; foolishly told myself that she'd want to see me enough to make it happen sooner than necessary. That she might sacrifice a couple hours of sleep if it meant things would be okay between us again.

I had been wrong. That was clear to me when the clock slowly trekked, ticking ever so torturously slow, creeping closer and closer to class time. Some part of me still clung to the possibility of her bursting through the door in a clumsy, panicked way. She would tell me that she'd planned to come, really, and had just overslept.

I let myself believe that it could be that easy. That I could turn back the hands of time until she was there again, laughing like nothing had ever happened.

Then again, I wouldn't have turned it back even if I could've. The events, however unfortunate and regretful, felt almost necessary to bring me to where I was.

Those couple of weeks without her felt so horribly dull; so lackluster and listless.  It felt like waiting for rain just to be drowned in the tides that followed. It felt like the way I used to stare up at the Nevada desert sky and wonder why we ever did anything to drown out the stars. Contemplated whether the skyscrapers were just a fool's attempt to outdo what had already been perfected. Nothing but unsubstantiated hubris.

It felt like most days before I met her. I never wanted to feel like that again. 

Truthfully, leaving my office hadn't been the hardest part of accepting that she wasn't coming. The hardest part was almost arriving late to my own class just to see that she was already there. She sat in her usual spot in the back of the classroom, chatting with the students who'd taken a liking to her the same way I had.

She didn't look up when she heard me announce myself, and she hadn't flinched or cringed as I'd expected her to. She almost looked like she did every other day I'd known her. But while I thanked her for the feigned normalcy, I was pained by the thought of how different it would be when we were stripped of an audience.

I tried not to think about it. When she began to pack her things without speaking to me, I accepted it as her silent way of saying that she wasn't interested in talking as I'd suggested. I accepted the answer, albeit reluctantly and with an ache in my everything.

I walked to my office alone, too afraid to turn around to know if she'd trail behind me. I kept my eyes and feet forward the entire way, but when I got to the door, I couldn't bring myself to close it just yet. I left it cracked just as I'd left the proverbial front porch light on in the darkness that followed Persephone's exit each year.

Taking my seat, I pondered on the inevitability of it all. The way that I'd predicted every single thing that had happened but was unable to stop it despite my best efforts. I didn't understand how, but I knew it to be true — that I was connected with that poor girl, whether I liked it or not.

But my Bunny still had a way of catching me by surprise. Of making me fall in love all over again with the utterance of just three words.

"Good morning, Professor."