"Be a good student, baby, and open your mouth for me."
. . .
In which 20-year-old Alyssa Silvestro decides to seduce her professor, who happens to be the older brother of her cheating ex-boyfriend.
Revenge is best served cold, is what they say.
"How am I supposed to tell you, I don't wanna see you with anyone but me? Nobody gets me like you. How am I supposed to let you go? Only like myself when I'm with you."
. . .
He won't look at me.
I have never known desperation like this.
I have never known hurt like this, even though I'm the one behind the cause of the pain.
I did this to myself.
And now, I have to watch Roman take all of this in and I watch the realization settle on his face, and the way his features smooth out into indifference.
Don't slip away from me.
For the past two minutes I've been begging him to look at me, but my words fall on deaf ears.
"I'm sorry," I choke out and blink my tears away.
Apologies are all I can offer because there's no excuse for my actions or plan. I can't come up with something that'll lessen what went down.
All I can do is express my feelings and hope he knows that they're genuine.
Dark eyes meet mine, and I'm momentarily paralyzed by the vacancy in them. When I take a step toward him, it pains me to see him take a step back.
As if he doesn't want my presence anywhere near him.
"Get the fuck out."
Those words feel like a slap to the face, and I don't process them for a second.
"W-what?" I ask, stumped. "Roman, please just let me explain..."
"Get the fuck out, Alyssa. I don't want to see you."
In order for me not to lose my mind, I tell myself that he just needs some time. That he'll listen to me later today or tomorrow or any other day.
That he'll let me explain and show him how much I love him.
My view gets blurry because of the tears, and I'm desperately trying to hold them back even though my cheeks are stained already.
My fingers wrap around the straps of my bag and I take it, the feeling of it so heavy I nearly let it drop.
My heart is in my throat with panic and my legs are nearly shaking. It's like my shoes are filled with lead with each drag toward the door, yet I manage to make it.
I glance over my shoulder once last time and see Roman looking out of the window, not acknowledging me whatsoever.
"I'm sorry," I choke out, and then the door falls into its lock and it feels so final.
Did I just lose the only man I truly loved?
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