I Won't Give Up (Teacher/Student)

Chapter 5

Five

"Romance or horror?" Mr. Livingston asked. He was standing in front of the TV, scrolling through the options.

"Actually, I hate horror. It's boring, the characters are stupid, and the cute guys always die so there's no point in watching." I reached for a bowl of chips and laid back on the couch, extending my legs across it. "I prefer a comedy."

"Yeah, you don't look like you get much romance in your life."

"You get enough for both of us."

"Well, I think I want horror."

"You're just doing that because I said I hate it!"

He chose some random horror movie and walked back to the couch. He lifted my bare legs and sat down. Before I could pull my legs back, he placed them in his lap. His hand settled on my ankle and his thumb lightly traced circles across my skin. Despite him only touching a small part of me, I felt it everywhere. It crawled up my legs, to my stomach, and finally settled as a lump in my throat, making it difficult to breathe or swallow.

He briefly looked over at me and smiled. "Don't be mad, Diem. We'll watch a comedy, too."

I wasn't mad. How could I be mad when I could barely concentrate on anything with his hands on my legs? Forcing myself to look at the screen, I watched as a girl got out of her car and approached a not-so-friendly noise.

"You see what I mean? Any normal person would lock themselves in the car and wait for help, but being an idiot, she decides to go to the noise! Who does that? I can't even do laundry in my basement without getting scar-"

"If I wanted to listen to you all night, I wouldn't have put a movie on."

I squinted my eyes at Mr. Livingston. He clearly didn't understand that I was the one in a position of power here. All I needed to do was slightly jerk my legs downward and hit him in an unpleasant area. Deciding to be nice instead, I reached for the pillow underneath me and chucked it at him. His hold on my ankle tightened and his fingers slid across my calf as he ducked. I pulled my legs back quickly, feeling the lump in my throat grow larger and my heart race against my chest.

I stayed that way for the rest of the movie, only sparing Mr. Livingston a glance occasionally. There were times when the movie actually scared me, but I didn't want to show it, so I went on my phone, or went to refill my water. When it finished, I grabbed the remote before he could and scrolled through the other movies.

"Did you ever watch 21 Jump Street?" He shook his head and my eyes widened. "What! You haven't lived life!"

"Wait, why are you picking a movie you've already watched?"

"Because you haven't watched it, and it's worth it."

Mr. Livingston laughed throughout the movie. His laugh was one of those loud and deep ones that came from your belly and filled the entire room. I looked over at him and smiled, feeling myself laugh too. His eyes bounced from the screen and his hands were resting on his stomach, rubbing it whenever he found something funny. He looked over at me and smiled briefly before turning back to the TV.

"I love this part," I whispered, cringing a little as I watched the characters shove their fingers down each other's throat to throw up. By the end of the movie, we were both tired and yawning. I stood up from the couch and extended my hand to him.

"Let's go to bed, not-so-slim shady."

He laughed and pulled himself up. I wasn't sure if Jackson was coming to spend the night tonight, but I was already accustomed to sleeping with Mr. Livingston. It still felt weird at times for me to share his bed and feared that I would do something stupid in my sleep or cross over onto his side.