I knew this would happen. Well maybe not this. Definitely not my professor showing up. Andrew was supposed to be in Greece for the remainder of the summer, up until start of term. I was supposed to have two more weeks with Justin. I mean, two more weeks on tour. But I knew this would happen. I knew we would get caught. This entire affair had been leading up to that moment. When everything fell apart.

My brain is so twisted and turned around that I just can’t think straight anymore which is not where I need to be right now. I need to get my head on straight so I can explain this. I need to shove my emotions down and find a rational way to explain my irrational behavior. And under no circumstances can I let on that I love him.

This and about a thousand other things are racing through my mind as I make my way down the hallway toward Andrew’s room. Once we’d gotten past the initial shock of the situation, an awkward introduction was initiated by Justin, whose hand stuck to Andrew’s when they shook and Justin had given a sheepish grin, muttering “ice cream” which made me want to bang my fucking head into the wall.

Andrew had given me a look like none other I’d ever seen. It was a mixture of anger, disbelief, and disappointment that left me unable to look him in the face. He had told me to get cleaned up and to meet him in his room; that we needed to talk. God only knows what it was we would say but he told me to come so it’s what I have to do.

The second the door closed on him, the silence in the room was deafening. Justin reached out to touch me and I jerked back as if I’d been burned. This is my life. That was my mentor, the man who decides if I get my masters degree, decides if I get into the PH.D program after that, and he had just caught me, covered in chocolate in a hotel room with my underage student.

 I was silent and staring, trying my damndest not to break down and cry or freak out and scream. I staggered back into the bedroom as if in a daze. I needed a shower. I had to come up with an explanation, something to tell Andrew, to salvage what was left of my academic career, to make him not be disappointed in me anymore. Justin had followed me silently, his face uncertain and concerned. He didn’t know what to do. There was nothing he could do. The selfish, irrational part of me was convinced he’d done enough.

The shower was running, steam billowing out into the bedroom and I’d walked into the bathroom, letting my robe fall and just stepped right into the shower without a word. The water burned and stung but I didn’t turn it down. I should get used to the heat; this would be a nice precursor to hell. He had waited by the entrance to the shower, hesitating. I didn’t look at him, everything in me silently begging him to just go. I didn’t have it in me to yell at him anymore, whether it was because of the way I feel about him now or just because I couldn’t handle that right then.  But I had snapped at him when he slid in behind me, turning to the other set of shower heads.

“I’m just showering,” he had said, his voice soft and careful and I silently cursed myself for being a bitch. Of course he is. He can’t very well go back down to his room covered in chocolate.

We stood under the water, silent, our backs to each other, watching as rivers of brown water swirled down the drain eventually turning clear. He had stepped out before me, telling me to call him when I came back, pausing for a moment but I didn’t respond and then he was gone. I had slid down curling into myself and sobbed like a child, letting the water pound into me, hating him and then hating myself for blaming this on him when the only person I could possibly blame was myself.

I knew what I was getting into when I started this mess with him. I knew what was at stake and the consequences. I knew better. Sure, he wasn’t any help, being so damn persistent and adorable and loving but I’m the adult. I should have told him no. I shouldn’t have given in. I should have been stronger. I was always the one that held us together anyway; the one that made sure he didn’t go too far or give away too much. Why couldn’t I have just been a little stronger and told him no?

So after pulling myself together and agonizing over what to wear – something that didn’t scream I just fucked my underage student – I made my way down to Andrew’s room on the fourth floor. I briefly wonder if Justin is on this floor but I push the thought from my mind. I can’t think about him during what I’m about to do.

And as I stand here in front of room 438, the number Andrew gave me, I force myself not to think of Justin. I force myself to remain neutral. I rehearse my story over and over and over again in my mind. We had sex. It was purely physical. No, I didn’t just happen once. Yes, I knew it was wrong. No, I do not love him.

My chest is tight as I bring my hand up and let my knuckles fall softly against the door. It opens and Andrew stands there for a moment, regarding me coolly before stepping aside and allowing me entry. I hang my head, very much the contrite child, his disapproval weighing on me like a ton of bricks as I step past him and into his small suite.

“Sit down,” he says, his voice somewhat strained and I do as I’m told, sitting at the small table, my eyes on the floor, flitting to him every now and then.

Andrew Isbel is not a tall man but he isn’t exactly short either. He’s stocky and tan in all the places that see sun on a regular basis. He has a tendency to dress like the guy that hosts Survivor, button down safari style shirts and cargo shorts, always wearing flip flops. He has a warm smile and is quick with a joke, but he doesn’t play around when it comes to art and his grading reflects that. He likes me because I’m focused and dedicated to my work, or so I thought until he tried to feel me up in his office three months ago. But I’m still convinced he sees something in me. Something like potential, or perhaps even greatness, something that proves that I can be successful. Something that makes me worthy.

He’s pacing now, like he does when I’ve missed the mark on an assignment and he’s trying to figure out how to tell me so. He pauses and looks at me and my eyes fall to the floor, guilty and ashamed.

“Skylar,” he says his voice soft and with a hint of a laugh, as he rubs his hand over his face, “what…on EARTH…were you THINKING?”

“I-”

“Were you thinking at all?” he asks, his tone becoming harsh and I cringe slightly, curling my shoulders in, ready to take the brunt of his disappointment. “I mean for god sake Skylar he’s seventeen years old. Do you know what this can do to your reputation…to my reputation?”

“Andrew, I-”

“Just DON’T!” he yells and I curl into myself more, silencing instantly. “Just don’t say anything right now.”

He sighs, running his hand over his face again. He looks at me, his eyes angry and confused and I have look down at my sandals because I can’t stand the disappointment in his eyes. The only thing I’ve longed for since the moment I met him was his approval. I can’t stand that I’ve failed him.

“Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath and sitting across from me. I swallow hard. “Explain this to me.”

“Well, I-”

“Was this a one time thing?” he asks, his blue eyes slightly hard, his hands flat on the table top.

“Um,” I pause, picking at my fingernails, waiting for him to interrupt again, somewhat hoping he does. “Not…not exactly.”

“Not exactly,” he says, nodding slowly. “and exactly how many times? Twice, three times? Too many times to count?”

I blush. “It’s…it’s kind of hard to explain…”

“It doesn’t seem that hard to me,” he spats, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve been sleeping with him, obviously for a long time because you’re starting to get a little on the kinky side am I right?”

I stare back at him bewildered and my face heats up. “Well, he and I we…um… it started… um…about two and a half months ago.”

“Where?” he asks flatly.

“Um…Columbus, Ohio…I think,” I pause trying to remember the place over the way Justin slammed me up against the door.

“No,” he grinds out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Where do you usually…do it?”

I look at him confused. “W-what does that matter?” I ask shifting uncomfortably.

“It doesn’t,” he responds coldly and I swallow hard, “But I’m asking you anyway.”

“Um, usually in our hotel rooms,” I say, shifting uncomfortably in my chair, tucking a strand if hair behind my ear.

“Skylar, I don’t know what to say,” he sighs, leaning back in his chair, looking at me sadly, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. In his eyes there’s something else that I can’t quite place. “I mean obviously his mother needs to be informed, his manager…”

My heart stops. “What? No!” I exclaim.

“You haven’t left me much of a choice Skylar,” he sighs, shaking his head. “What you’ve done-”

“What good would it do to tell them?” I ask frantically, thinking of anyway to spare Justin, to spare myself. “We’ll stop…I’ll…” I grit my teeth. “I’ll go…I’ll quit.”

“Like that would make it better?” Andrew asks, narrowing his eyes. “No, I think they need to know exactly what you’ve done. What you both have done.”

There’s a vindictive edge in his voice that I don’t quite understand. I understand his anger, his disappointment but this spiteful rage isn’t something I was expecting. There’s an antagonistic lilt in his voice that I don’t understand but what he says next makes everything crystal clear.

“You know, maybe there’s something we can work out.”

He reaches across the table and takes my hand in his, his thumb rubbing over the backs of my knuckles and I pull back from him, my brows knitting in confusion, my stomach turning. He’s looking at me in such a way, the way that Justin looks at me and I feel as if I could be sick.

“Andrew, stop,” I say shaking my head at him and his brow furrows in anger.

“You know maybe the press would like to know about this little tryst? I’m sure America would love to know that it’s Virgin Prince was fucking his art tutor.”

My breath catches in my throat and a paralyzing fear grips me, stronger than the one before when it was just me in trouble. Now we’re talking about Justin. And his career and the careers of his four bandmates. It’s so hard to believe that this is Andrew, that this is the same Andrew that taught me Survey One, the same class I’m teaching Justin, that I looked up to, that I still look up to. I guess he doesn’t see anything in me after all…

“Andrew, you can’t do that,” I practically sob, my throat tight with anguish. “You can’t do that to him.”

Andrew sighs, his face a mask of pity and concern as he slides from his chair and comes to kneel in front of me. I feel revulsion and grief as he places his hands on my denim clad thighs, the heat of his skin searing me through my clothes.

“Something needs to be done, Skylar,” he says, his hand reaching to cup my chin and I swallow hard as I let him do it.

Maybe this is the price you pay for the horrible things you do. Maybe this is the price you pay to protect someone you love. You do things you would never do. You sacrifice a little of yourself so someone else won’t have to.

“I mean sex with a minor? With a student?” Andrew says, his thumb smudging over my bottom lip, “that’s a pretty serious offense.”

My brain jams and anger flairs inside me. His mouth is inching closer to mine and I jerk my head to the side, breaking his hold on me. He pulls back slightly, bewildered by the anger in my eyes.

“You’re one to talk, Professor,” I spat and he narrows his eyes at me.

“This is an entirely different matter,” he blusters, clearing his throat and I laugh in his face.

“Really? Because last time I checked I was still on your roster.” He opens his mouth to speak but I don’t let him.

All the anger at him over my thesis, over him coming on to me…at the knowledge that I am nothing more to him than a conquest to be won. All the anger at myself for not being strong enough…all the hatred and self loathing. Everything just boils over into this one moment and the only thing I can think of is protecting him, forget myself. I won’t let anything hurt him. Not now. Not ever.

“You breathe one word of this to anyone and I swear to you that I will use every fiber of my being to find every single girl you ever did this to. I’m not the first right? The way you came onto me in your office before…so smooth, so practiced…the way you did it just now, cupping my face all tenderly, backing me into a corner and making me think it was my only option… there’s no way I’m the first one.”

“Skylar,” he chuckles nervously, but I stand and he nearly topples backward from my sudden movement, but regains his composure standing so that we are face to face.

“I’ll find them and I will have them tell their story to the dean, to the college board, and to every single company and organization that has sponsored your digs.” His face blanches and he swallows hard. I grit my teeth. “And I will ruin you.”

My chest is heaving and he is stares at me dumbfounded. This man, he’s my mentor. He’s like a father to me, often times I’ve thought he was more of a father than my own. I hate him. I hate him for not being someone I can trust and confide in. Just another man trying to get in my pants. Just another man who has let me down.

“I’m surprised at you Skylar,” he says, his voice chiding but strained and I know I’ve won.

“What?” I ask, the hurt making me bitter. “You didn’t think I’d have it in me to tell you no? Well, guess again.”

“And what do you propose I do about you and the boy?” he grits out, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes hard and I know everything has changed. I’m no longer his prized student, his crown jewel. I’m just another girl in one of his classes. Even though it shouldn’t, it stings to know this.

“Keep your mouth shut if you want to save your career,” I spat back and he narrows his eyes at me.

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to abuse-”

“ABUSE!” I screech, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. “I would never hurt Justin!”

“Oh, I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s hurting him,” Andrew replies, smiling condescendingly and I clench my fists at my sides. “You must know this can’t go on, Skylar.”

I release a shaky breath and look away, my insides clenching and knotting. No, this can’t go on. Because the next time this happens I may not have a way of keeping the other person from going to the press. It can’t go on. This is what I’ve said from the beginning, isn’t it? It’s what I have known in my heart to be true and now it seems I will finally have to put it into motion.

“If you leave…” Andrew says softly, his eyes boring into mine and I swallow hard, “…immediately – as in first thing in the morning – I won’t tell a soul.” He smirks. “It will be our little secret.”

One of many

“Tomorrow morning?” I ask, glancing at the clock and find it to already be eleven o’clock. Its too soon. “Wh-what about Justin’s lessons?”

What about Justin? How can I explain all this to him? He won’t understand. He’ll beg me to stay. He’ll give me a million scenarios in which we could be together. He’ll yell and stomp around and pout. What do I say to him then? What do I say to ease the pain of him knowing there’s nothing he can say to make me stay. What do I do without him?

“He shouldn’t be your concern right now Skylar!” Andrew scolds and I look down contritely. “In fact I think it best you have no further contact with him.”

“What?” I ask, looking up at him astonished. “I…I can’t even say goodbye?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth I realize how absurd they sound. Andrew does me a favor by merely smirking and not laughing directly in my face.

“I’d think it best you didn’t. I’ll take over from where you left off in the lessons. You should be moving into the Pre-Renaissance period correct?”

“Um,” I say swallowing hard, my mind spinning. “We’re a little behind…”

“I’m sure you are,” he smirks and I close my eyes, clenching my jaw, willing the tears to go away.

“It’s so…so sudden,” I say, my breath coming in short gasps, “shouldn’t I-”

“First thing tomorrow morning,” he says sternly and my mouth shuts, giving him a silent nod of concession.

“You did this to yourself, Sky,” Andrew says softly, almost gently and my chest constricts as tears threaten to spill over my lids.

“Is there anything else, Professor?” I ask sniffing and clenching my jaw, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

“No, Miss McKibbons,” he says, “that will be all.”

And with that I walk to the door and rip it open, throwing myself out of the room before the tears begin streaming down my cheeks. Six years of school where that man was my mentor, my yoda, my fucking father and I slam the door and it shatters. Everything just fucking shatters. I tear down the hallway, staggering blindly as sobs wrack my body and as I reach the door to the stairwell I push through, my knees give way. I stumble a little, falling against the cold cement wall and sliding down, hugging my knees to my chest, just trying to hold myself together.

Tomorrow. I’ll leave tomorrow. Where will I go? What will I do? I can’t leave. I can’t leave him. And yet I knew it would come to this. What do I say? How can I tell him I’m leaving? I can’t…I can’t tell him because I can’t leave. I can’t leave him.

“Sky?”

A gruff yet familiar voice echoes my name in the stairwell and I look up to find Tiny making his way down the stairs. I wipe at my face, whimpering slightly and then sighing in what must be a truly pitiful way because Tiny is crouching down next to me, a look of genuine concern painting his features.

“Justin told me about what happened,” he says softly and I’m somewhat shocked at the gentleness of his voice.

I’m a blubbering mess in my response. “I-I-I have t-t-to leave t-t-tomorrow…f-f-first thing,” I cough. “I can’t even s-s-say g-g-good-bye.”

And with that I dissolve into heavy sobs again, my heart wrenching and pulling in my chest and I can’t bear it. I fear I may die right here in this stairwell, Tiny’s meaty hand heavy on my shoulder.

“What?” Tiny asks, disbelief evident in his voice. “No…no you can’t not tell him what’s going on.”

“I-I-I have t-t-to,” I sniff, swallowing the snot that’s running down my throat. “My p-p-professor s-s-said.”

“Fuck him,” Tiny says indignantly and I laugh because I almost did, which sends a wave of revulsion through my stomach and a new wave of tears down my face. “You can’t just leave him, Skylar. He loves you.”

“YOU DON’T THINK I KNOW THAT!” I scream, wiping at my face angrily. “You think that this is easy for me? Fuck LOOK at me, Tiny! Does it look like I’m having a good fucking time here?!”

“I think you’re feeling damn sorry for yourself is what I think!” Tiny spits and look up at him hurt. “You did this to yourself, Skylar. I warned you. JC fucking warned you. Yes, he knows,” he adds when my eyes widen. “He wasn’t sure but after the mess with Khefren and Britney in Detroit it was pretty fucking obvious. You had every opportunity to end this-”

“How Tiny?!” I exclaim, opening my palms to him. “How the fuck was I supposed to quit him? You tell me that,” I choke on a sob. “You fucking tell me!”

Tiny heaves a sigh, eyeing me sadly. “You fell for him didn’t you?”

I laugh but it turns into a sobbing cough as it passes my lips. “No.”

I need to get used to saying no to this. I need to push this fact down and away because there’s no way I can leave him if I love him like I do right now. I need to tell myself that I don’t, that I can’t. I need to not love him anymore. It’s the only way that I will survive this.

“Uh huh,” Tiny says eying me and he doesn’t believe me. “So you’re just gonna leave? Break the boy’s heart and go?”

I glare at him. “I was gonna leave a note,” I lie and as the words pass my lips they become truth. I’ll leave him a note.

“A note?” Tiny scoffs and shakes his head. “Three months boiled down to a piece of paper? This is what you’re gonna do to him?”

“Tiny, what the fuck do you want me to do?!?!?” I ask throwing my hands in the air.

“I want you to step the fuck up and take responsibility for what you’ve done!” Tiny bellows and I cower under the gruffness of his voice and the sheer size of him. Tiny really has found his calling in security. “He loves you, Skylar. He loves you. This kid is like my little brother…” Tiny purses his lips and turns his head to the side. His voice is soft as he continues. “He deserves better than a note, Sky.”

“I know that,” I heave shakily. “But I can’t do it any other way.”

“Yes, you can,” Tiny nods slowly and tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as my lids close.

“No,” I whimper, shaking my head. “No, I can’t. I’m not strong enough.”

And it’s true. I’m not. I wish I was but I’m just not. I wasn’t strong enough to tell him no and I’m not strong enough to tell him goodbye. This is who I am as a person. And I hate myself.

“You owe him this, Skylar,” Tiny says softly, struggling to stand and I look up at him sniffling feebly. “He deserves better.”

And with that he trudges up the stairs and out of sight, leaving me a crumpled mess in the stairwell.