Acting Out [Student/Teacher, GxG]

I Know How To Play This Game

"Mother, I have no idea what you're talking about." I held the microphone on my earphones close to my mouth as I dodged around the students flocking to the doors.

"Oh, don't you dare play dumb with me, Rowan. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Tell me, were you counting on your father and I not watching the press coverage, or were you just totally oblivious to the hundreds of cameras present while you were fawning over —" She huffed in disgust as if even saying the woman's name was beneath her. "You listen here, young lady, if you're under the impression we're just going to sit back and allow you to tarnish the good name of this company by associating with a woman that —" I ripped the earbuds out of my ears and marched indignantly to my car. My mother loved to hear herself talk, but that didn't mean I was going to put myself through the pain that came with listening to her.

I tried to collect my thoughts. It was safe to assume that the photos of Miss Lane and I from the premiere had been released. Fuck. Truthfully, however, I hadn't anticipated her getting this angry over them — if memory served, they were more-or-less innocent, and sure, I'd seen her in class, but as of thirty seconds before they were taken we were complete strangers. It made absolutely zero fucking sense that my mother would be this up-in-arms over a few paparazzi shots of Claire Lane and I looking like, at the very most, amicable acquaintances. What was I supposed to do, pull away and cause an even bigger fuss?

My eyes started to well with tears and I cursed myself for being so stupid. I was the daughter of two brilliant professionals; if genetics were anything to go by, I should've been a force to be reckoned with, but it seemed like every conversation with my mother was further proof that I didn't even deserve the family name. Nature versus nurture, I guess — I certainly didn't receive much nurturing as a child.

I transferred the call over to my car's bluetooth, making sure the volume was low enough that I could barely hear my mother's icy voice, and reached into my purse to grab the bottle of T3s. I knew there were way too many in the bottle when I dumped them unceremoniously into my palm and I was vaguely aware of the fact that I didn't even have a headache, but I could feel the tears spilling over the corners of my eyes and making pathetic little tracks down my cheeks and a breakdown was not something I could handle today. I tossed the pills back — yes, all of them — swallowed hard, and rammed the car into reverse, pulling out of the parking lot and trying to ignore the sounds coming from my speaker system.

"Rowan? Are you even listening to me?"

Well that was short-lived. "Yes, Mother." I replied, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Good, because I won't repeat myself."

"I'm sorry, Mother." I sighed, wiping my eyes with the back of my free hand. "She's teaching one of my classes at school. That's the reason that I was speaking with her in front of the paparazzi."

She laughed dryly, clearly not having believed a word I said. I always knew to be afraid when she got like this; the miles between us were inconsequential. Thank God for those little white pills. "Don't let me see you with that woman again."

"Well, unless the paparazzi follows her to the one class I have with her or you send me to another of your publicity events, you can rest assured you won't see me at all."

"Are you taking an attitude with me?" She practically seethed. Her 'questions' always felt more like statements.

"No, Mother."

"It would be prudent of you to consider what's on the line here, Rowan. Your father and I have gone above and beyond to accommodate your whims. Your rent, your tuition, your credit card — you're a smart girl; you know what you have to lose."