Page 16 of Somewhere Between Falling

“Ah, I see.”

I thought about how it all came out and just how awful everything was for the months that followed. Even now it’s not easy. It was the Parkhurst holiday party two years ago. I was just finding my groove on campus when I started to hear the rumors of the professor and a student. The stories were wild, and ninety percent weren’t even true. They definitely didn’t get caught having sex on a table in the anatomy lab. But they did end up kissing under the mistletoe at a holiday party—and yes, my mom was in attendance. Things quickly changed after that. Mom filed for divorce the next day, and Dad moved in with Blair the following week.It’s not that they were very happy before. They didn’t fight, at least not in front of me, but they didn’t exactly talk to each other either. I didn’t realize until later that their marriage was a cold one. It still stung when my dad moved on at lightning speed.

“I couldn’t stand the whispers and the ridiculous stories that were going around. I never want to be put in that kind of situation ever again,” I explained.

“But it’s not the same. You know that, right? First, neither one of us is married—unless you have something you need to tell me?” he joked. I gently punched him in his arm. “And second, for the hundredth time: I. Am. Not. Your. Teacher.”

“Close enough.”

“Only for another couple of weeks.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh,” I said thoughtfully. “I’m actually relieved and a little disappointed at the same time.”

“Why is that?”

“You’re actually a pretty good teacher.” I offered a small smile. I wasn’t ready to jump into anything with him just yet, of course, but it was nice to know that soon he would no longer be in a teacher role. At least not really. I knew I was probably being stupid, but I had made it such a habit to just blend in—never do anything to attract attention to myself—and they do say old habits die hard. Would anybody really care if I dated him? Probably not. It wasn’t the same thing as my dad and Blair. Not even close.So what really was my hold up?

“Wonderwall” by Oasis began playing on the radio.

“I love this song,” I said at the same time Tobias turned up the volume. He turned his head toward me, with that smile I was beginning to think he saved just for me.

“Me too,” he said, leaning back in his seat. “Do you know what ‘wonderwall’ means?”

“No, I never really thought about it before,” I said, taking another bite of my ice cream.

“I looked it up once. A ‘wonderwall’ is the person you constantly find yourself thinking about.”

He’s my wonderwall. I giggled a little at the inadvertent thought.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I didn’t want to tell him what I was thinking, nor did I want to admit how adorable I found him when he was in teacher mode, so I just responded, “It’s just a fun word.”

“I think so.” He tucked a wayward strand of my hair behind my ear. If I was a spontaneous person, I would have leaned in and kissed him just then, but I was just not that kind of girl. Instead, I leaned back into his passenger seat and turned my attention back to my ice cream.

And as I sat there, eating the ice cream while listening to Tobias hum the familiar tune, I knew that this song would never mean the same thing to me again.

Chapter Nine

My days were starting to revolve around that hour and a half two times a week when I had to sit in his classroom and pretend that it was Russian literature that I found fascinating and not Tobias. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew my whole world was shifting around me. It was an odd feeling—disorienting, like being in dark water and having no idea which way was up. I found myself looking for any excuse to stay after class under the guise of needing help with understanding an assignment, when in reality I just enjoyed the quiet moments when we were alone. I didn’t want to admit that those were the only times I felt like I could breathe, and as much as I wanted to fight it, I realized the pull I felt toward him wasn’t anything that I could stop or make go away. Yet I still was worried about what people would say if they caught on to my growing crush, or worse if we ever did cross that careful line that I put into place to protect myself from being the next Parkhurst scandal. It was a constant battle between my head and my heart.

In a word, it was a bit torturous.

“Tamsin, are you listening to me?”

“What? Oh, sorry, no,” I admit. “What did you say?”

“Look!” Alex shoved a hot pink flyer in front of my face.

LEARN HOW TO COOK A HOMEMADE MEAL RIGHT IN YOUR DORM ROOM!

I didn’t even read the rest. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” She beamed.

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