Nineteen-year-old Namora Mursings has fallen in love with her married teacher, Mr. Vincent Williams. Knowing the consequences of her infatuation, she still decides to pursue him.
Vincent takes her for a troubled girl still on an identity quest and w...
HEAVILY UNEDITED. Sorry for making you guys wait!!😭😭
SHOULD I DO IT?
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Summer brings rain, and heat.
But summer also brings lies, and guilt.
Mr. Williams' blue eyes peer into my mahogany honeypots, as if trying to decipher me; trying to unlock the secrets of my soul. As we sit there in his car, the sound of the rain hammering in the background, calming my nerves, my breaths get lighter.
Breaking eye contact, I look out of the window, letting my bottom lip wobble. The way I can use my feelings to convey something else entirely, to create such an obvious parallel he can't even sense — may God forgive my soul.
"I... please don't look at me like that..." I blanche, furrowing my eyebrows, "I knew it, I should have kept it to myself... you're probably thinking of me as this stupid, troubled, weak girl who can't..."
At this point I realize I'm pouring out my real feelings, though cloaked by the big lie I'd just affirmed seconds earlier.
He doesn't need to know.
"Namora, please stop," he begins, his voice soft as he turns the key and brings the car to life.
Finally.
"You're not stupid, nor weak. Yes, you're troubled, but..." He looks at me as he switches gear, his blue eyes sparkling, "it's okay."
"It's okay, not to be okay. It's okay to feel things too much. It's okay to be emotional," he continues, and I find my heart clenching in pain and yearning.
Pain, for the way I'm leading him on, and yearning, for the way he's reacting.
Because how, how can I just let him go when he's finally showing concern? Showing that he somewhat cares? How can I?
"I'm not exactly the best at this, but..." He inhales, "—where's your house, by the way?"
"Turn left and keep going," I say softly, unable to say any more. He has me tongue-tied and I'd die if this moment ceases to exist.
"As I was saying, I'm not the best at this but... you can count on me for anything. If it ever becomes too much..."
He casts me an uncertain glance, and I can't help my heart swelling with happiness.
"...I'm here. I'll always be here— well, until you graduate, that is... I think you should go into therapy, too, it might help—"
I shake my head, "you're enough."
He sighs, "you can't—," hands clenching onto the steering wheel as he shakes his head, "—continue going straight?"
