TEETERING THE LINE
ANTHONY
Aria leaves the room like a little, lost child. She’s defeated, as if her ego has been deflated and I’m the one responsible. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I don’t know why these things overtake my rational mind, but I feel as if I should be the one to build her up and protect her from heartache. It’s ridiculous. Before today, I couldn’t put a face to her name. Now, the very thought of disappointing her makes me feel like someone’s crushing my windpipe.
The halls have emptied out and I lock the outer office door before leaving for the day. I can sense a long workout, a stiff drink, and a cold shower in the near future, and hope that this combination will take my mind off of Aria Kane. As I approach the parking lot, I notice a group of kids milling around beside the ball field. We don’t schedule games or practices mid-week so I cross the lot and head in their direction to see what they’re up to.
Four boys have their backs turned to me and don’t see me approaching, so they continue their banter. Finally, within earshot, I hear one of the boys boast, “That’s right. She was walking down the hall with her tits hanging right out. She knew she was gonna pass me. That’s why she did it.”
“Bullshit!” another boy cries.
“Oh, yeah. If it wasn’t for me, then why did she button up as soon as I told her how horny she was making me? She smiled the whole time. I’m telling you, I’m gonna hit that hard. Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to do her and her MILF model mother.”
“Keep dreaming, idiot,” another boy says and they all laugh.
“We’ll see. I’ll invite you guys over to her mansion for a pool party. If I’m done with her by then, you can pass her around,” the grinning little shit adds.
I can hear the beast whispering in my ear, “Wipe that smile right off his fat, fucking face. He can’t talk about your girl that way. He needs to be taught a lesson,” but I clench my fists until my fingernails draw blood from my palms to push him back down.
“What’s your name?” the sound of my own voice alarms me.
The boys all turn to me with stunned expressions on their faces.
“We’re just talking, Sir. We aren’t doing anything wrong,” the fat-faced jock retorts.
“I didn’t ask what you were doing. I asked for your name,” I snarl.
“Why? What do you need my name for?”
“You know what, it doesn’t matter. You can’t hide from me. I’ll find out who you are tomorrow. Then, I’ll have you benched for two games for your insubordination.”
“I’m Lanz, Lanz Lazarro,” he spits.
“Well, Lanz Lazarro, spreading inappropriate lies about your female classmates is pretty low. That’s not the type of behavior I expect from our athletes. We trust you to represent our academy to other institutions and the public.”
“It’s just locker room talk, Sir. I didn’t mean anything.”
“I get it. I do, but you see, locker room talk is supposed to be true. Now, why don’t you admit to your friends that you lied? Tell them Aria Kane would never flash her breasts at you. Let them know she has never expressed any interest in you at all.”
“I mean no disrespect, Sir, but how would you know?”
That’s a good question. So good, in fact, that all of his friends stare at me, awaiting my answer.
“School’s out boys. You’re now loitering. It’s time for you all to clear out of here,” I answer and turn on my heels.
I should have kept my mouth shut. What was I thinking? Lanz is a big kid who might just be able to hold his own in a fight with me but that doesn’t excuse the thoughts that were going through my head.
He’s my student and so is Aria Kane. Getting physical with either of them is unethical. I tell myself this. Yet as I drive home to change into my gym clothes, I replay the sensation of slipping my fingers inside her in my head. What is it? I’m not some love-struck school boy like Lanz Lazarro but this girl has a spell on me just the same.
True, her beauty demands appreciation, but it’s more than that. Way more than that. She has me in a chokehold, and that thought rattles me. Shakes me to my core. My body goes haywire when she’s around, but I can feel my obsession with her take root. She’s too young for me and I’m trying to fight off this primal desire to have her all to myself. Make her my wife. Fill her with my babies.
Shit. I must be going crazy.
Two sweat-filled hours in the gym, a cold shower, and some vodka later, I still can’t get this girl off my mind going so far as to scour last year’s yearbook for photos of her. I find a candid shot of her standing outside clutching her books to her chest, and I can’t tell if she’s pensive or sad.
I trace her profile with my finger like a psycho, and I begin to wonder if she knows how perfect she is. Does she look in the mirror and see what I see or has she convinced herself that she belongs hidden in the shadow of her famous mother? The possibility of the latter being true stirs my frustration so I close the book and go to bed. I lie awake for a while, wondering if I did the right thing.
There are a thousand reasons to keep my distance from this girl and only one reason to get close to her. I know that pushing her away was the responsible thing. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to live up to that responsibility.
