Make Me Bad: Private Lessons (21 page)

What? Is he crazy? What the hell
has just happened in the past five minutes?

“Luc,” I say and this time my voice
is shaking. “I don’t understand what is happening here. I thought I was coming
over to spend time with you. I thought you missed me. And now – I don’t really
understand what is happening now.”

“I’m sorry, Maddie. This is my
fault. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I
should have controlled myself. I could lose my job and I could ruin your
career. Those just aren’t chances I’m willing to take, not to mention my
fragile emotional state. I think it’s better if we just stop seeing each
other.”

“Luc, you can’t be serious.”

He won’t look at me. “I am serious.
This is wrong. I would still like to continue your private lessons though. I
mean, if you want to, of course.”

“Luc! Stop. You don’t mean this!”

“I do.”

“Look at me.”

He looks at me, his gaze steady,
but I can see the pain in his eyes. He doesn’t want this.

“I don’t believe you,” I say
stubbornly.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is flat. He
turns away from me again.

I jump up off the couch. I’m too
angry and I have too much pride for this. “You are full of shit,” I hiss,
unable to hide my anger. “And no, I do not want to continue lessons with you!”
I hastily grab my coat, not bothering to put it on. I’m about to burst into
tears and I can’t stay inside his apartment for one more minute.

I turn and watch Maddie grab for
her coat, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from calling out to her. Maddie
is no fool, and she sees right through my lame excuses, but I can’t back down.
I can’t ruin her career before it starts – she’s too talented. And she
certainly deserves better than being burdened by my bipolar disorder. She’s too
young for that.

I hang my head with shame, feeling
worse than if I had actually only been interested in just fucking her.

“You’re a liar,” she accuses, and
her voice breaks. I can tell that she is near tears, which only makes me feel
lousier. “And a coward. I know this isn’t what you want, but it’s easier this
way for you.” Her gaze burns through me. “Who is the immature one now?” she
demands. “I was willing to work on this, I was willing-’’ her voice cracks, “to
try – to try to find a way. But you won’t even do that.” She lets out a sob,
and mortified, her hand flies to her mouth to cover the sound.

I cave. “Maddie, please,” I go to
her, but she backs up against the door as if I might burn her.

“Don’t touch me!”

“Please, let’s just talk some
more.” Why, oh why can’t I stick with what I intended to do?

“No!” she sobs, and then she
wrenches open the door and flies down the hallway.

“Fuck!” I go out into the hallway,
but she’s already running down the stairwell. “Maddie! Please!”

But it’s too late. I should go down
and chase her, but I don’t. I remind myself that this is what I have to do,
whether I want to or not. I don’t go to the window, but instead go into the
kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. I drink the contents in two gulps and
pour myself another.

This time, I take my glass of wine
and head back into the small living room, sinking back down onto the couch. But
I can’t stay still, and I take another large swig before scrambling back to my
feet and pacing the room.

I keep telling myself that this is
what I had to do. I didn’t want to give up Maddie, but seeing her at my door,
looking so posh and sophisticated, and so completely what? In love with me?
Yes, I think that’s what it was.

It scared the shit out of me.

I am not the kind of person that
girls like Madison Evans should be falling in love with. I’m so decidedly wrong
for her. She deserves someone young and outgoing. Not some loser professor who
can’t get his shit together. Of course, I’ve had success with my career, but
that doesn’t mean anything. That doesn’t change who I am inside.

I think back on my relationship
with Vera and remember how thoroughly fucked up it was. If I let myself imagine
the future, I know a relationship with Maddie would be different. Hell, the
little time Maddie and I spent together
was
different. It was like
getting this glimpse into a world that I hadn’t considered before.

I’m tempted to call Maddie and beg
her to come back, to assure her that we can try, that we can find a way. That even
though I lied and said that I hadn’t thought about the future, I had. I know
that Maddie’s career could only flourish in New York, and I wasn’t planning on
going anywhere. We could have continued our relationship in New York, albeit
carefully, if not secretly.

But I have to remember why I’m
doing this. How would a secret relationship be fair to Maddie? Didn’t she
deserve better than that? Of course she did!

I let my thoughts race for a while,
but as I finish the bottle of wine and start a second, my mind slowly becomes
hazy and sluggish. French wine: the perfect numbing agent. Again, just what
Maddie wants – a bi-polar divorcé and drunk to boot.

She doesn’t text me that night, and
I manage not to text her either. I feel like a complete ass for leading her on.
Just one more reason I don’t deserve her.

I don’t remember falling asleep on
Monday night, and I awake Tuesday with a killer headache, a bad taste in my
mouth and a stiff neck. I’m not in my bed and after a few seconds, I realize
that I fell asleep on the shoddy armchair in the corner of my living room.

Groaning, I stretch out my legs and
feel the tension in my calves. I sit up and roll my neck, running my hand
through my messy hair. The sun is up but I’m not sure of the time. I reach for
my phone, but it’s not around and I wonder where I stuck it. Everything from
the night before seems hazy and then I remember Maddie.

Fuck.

How I made her leave, how I told
her I hadn’t cared. I jump from the chair and cursing as my stomach lurches. I
drank nearly two bottles of wine and didn’t bother eating anything.

I stumble into the kitchen and find
my phone wedged under an empty wine bottle. Classy.

The clock tells me that it’s nearly
eight in the morning, which means I need to haul ass if I’m going to make it to
campus for my first class.

“Shit,” I croak, staggering toward
my room so I can take a shower.

I let the warm water run over my
sore body. This is exactly why Maddie deserves better. It doesn’t go unnoticed
that I haven’t heard from her, but I know I’ll see her today in class.
If
she shows up for class.

Maddie is a good student, and I
can’t imagine her not showing. Though I do remember her telling me she had no
interest in continuing her private lessons. Which is foolish because she would
really benefit from our time together. I suppose I could blame myself for that,
too. If I hadn’t gotten involved with Maddie, I could have continued to help
her with her music. Now she’s hurting herself, stumping her own potential to
avoid me.

I want to stay in the shower
longer, but I have to hustle, so I jump out after five minutes and quickly
dress in dark pants and a dark shirt. I run a brush through my wet hair and
grab my briefcase.  I stop quickly in the kitchen and tear off a hunk of bread
and get a bottle of water. I also grab four Tylenol to help with my hangover.
I’m so damn irresponsible.

I don’t have time for a real
breakfast, so the bread and water will have to do. If I get to campus a few
minutes early, maybe I can grab a coffee from the terrible coffee shop outside
the music building. Terrible coffee is better than no coffee.

As it turns out, I don’t have time
for crappy coffee, and when I make it to the classroom, most of the students
are already there. Some of their faces drop and I can tell they were hoping
that I wouldn’t show so they could have the morning off.

“Sorry, but I’m here,” I grumble,
putting my briefcase down and fishing out some papers. I jump right into the
lesson, having the students transcribe some pieces and calling on volunteers to
come to the board. I end up dismissing them ten minutes early, just so I can
get myself organized before the next two classes.

The next class passes without
incident and soon it’s time for Maddie’s class to begin. I’m not sure what to
expect. I busy myself with papers on my desk while the students start filing
in. I don’t want to look, but I can’t help glancing up each time a group of
students enter the room. Cleo and Maddie are two of the last students to enter.
I look up anxiously, but Maddie doesn’t even glance towards the front of the
room; she makes a beeline for the back row of seats.

Cleo, on the other hand, gives me a
nasty look, making sure that she holds my gaze so that I know her anger is
directed at me, and then she follows Maddie to the back of the room.

Great. Just what I need, now the
best friend is pissed off at me too.

I can’t worry about Cleo – that’s
to be expected. And of course Maddie would confide in Cleo, she was the only
one who knew about us.

I try not to think of Maddie, and
it is somewhat easier with her being hidden away in the back of the room.
Though I still know she’s there. I can feel her presence. And I can feel the
anger radiating off her.

I manage to teach the class, and
Maddie, not surprisingly doesn’t volunteer to participate. I don’t make things
worse by calling on her, even though she is by far the most gifted student in
the class.

I dismiss the class, and force
myself not to watch the students leave. I don’t have the heart to watch Maddie
ignore me again and I certainly don’t need any petty glances from Cleo. The
class has just about left, and when I look up I notice that Cleo and Maddie are
lingering. They’re whispering and giving each other meaningful looks and they
seem to be having a heated conversation.

“Fine,” Cleo finally huffs, loud
enough for me to hear. “I’ll be waiting in the hallway.” She blows past me, but
not before giving me another dirty look.

Like I have time for this bullshit.

Maddie bites the inside of her lip
and makes her way towards the front of the room. She’s the last one in the
class. I notice that she doesn’t have her guitar, so she’s obviously not
planning on our lesson.

“Can I speak with you?” she asks
quietly, finally looking up at me. She’s dressed in slim jeans with boots, and
a simple black sweater. Her hair is pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun
and her face is makeup free. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and it’s clear that she
has been crying.

I feel like an asshole all over
again.

“I’m not sure if this is really the
place,” I say slowly, though I do want to talk to her.

“Right,” she says, her voice
bitter. “Forget it. I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. You made it clear
that there was nothing to talk about.”

“Maddie – wait.” I sigh. Talking to
her for five minutes here wasn’t going to ruin either one of us. And as long as
no one walked in or overheard, we would be fine. And Cleo was just outside in
the hallway.

“I just – I just need to know why
you’re doing this,” she says, struggling with the words. “Please don’t tell me
again it’s because you don’t care for me, or whatever other lame excuses you
can come up with. Please just be honest,” she pleads, and I want desperately to
take her in my arms and kiss her and promise that everything will be okay.

But I can’t take her in my arms
because we’re on campus, and I can’t promise that things will be okay.

I don’t know why I tried to tell
Maddie that I didn’t care yesterday. She obviously didn’t buy it. I need to
just be honest and give her my real reasons. Again. We have talked about them
before.

“Maddie, I think you know why,” I
say softly, running a hand through my hair and feeling bone tired. I’m still
aching from sleeping in the chair and my head is still throbbing regardless of
my meager breakfast and Tylenol.

Maddie folds her arms across her
chest, waiting expectantly for my answer.

I continue. “I can’t ruin your
career before it’s begun. It’s not fair to ask you to have a relationship in
secret. And regardless of your career, this relationship would have to be
secret until you graduated. I could lose my position and I don’t need to
explain to you the reputation
you
would acquire by sleeping with a
professor.”

She keeps her gaze stony, but I
know she’s listening.

“At the very least, we’d have to
keep this quiet until May. That much is obvious. But even if we waited until
then, I can’t do that to your career. Going public with our relationship would
tarnish your reputation and destroy you.  No one would take you seriously. Do
you understand that? They would see you and think you were sleeping your way to
success. We’ve talked about this. And then, factor in your famous parents.
Think about the press it would bring them? Think about the scandal. You don’t
think the media wouldn’t have a field day with that? You would be a laughing
stock.”