Rewriting History Read online

  Rewriting History

  By

  Missy Johnson

  &

  Carly Grey

  Copyright© 2014 Missy Johnson and Carly Grey

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Printing: November 2014

  “History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme.” – Mark Twain

  Prologue

  She hasn’t been to school in days, which means it’s been just as long since I’ve seen her face. We might not be speaking, but at least having her there, I know she’s okay. I don’t need to worry about her, or wonder what she’s thinking. She makes that perfectly clear with every hate-filled look she throws my way.

  I pick up my phone and find her in my contacts. A message is pointless; she’ll just ignore it like the other dozen I’ve sent. I press call, not expecting her to actually answer. When she does, I’m shocked.

  “What do you want, Eli? It’s a bit inappropriate for my teacher to be calling me on my cell phone, don’t you think?” Her voice is cold.

  “You haven’t turned up to class for the last two days and I was worried about you,” I reply, rubbing my forehead. I close my eyes and picture her; that flowing silky, dark hair; those bright, emerald green eyes.

  Why am I calling her? To torture her a little bit more? She knows she fucked up, just like I know I’ve let her down. How am I possibly helping anyone by calling her?

  “Worried about your career is more like it,” she mumbles.

  “Jill,” I sigh.

  “Eli,” she deadpans.

  “Listen, can I come over? We need to talk.”

  “I thought you did enough talking yesterday,” she mumbles. She’s not making this easy for me—not that I blame her.

  “I’m coming over,” I say. “I know your mom is at work because I called her first.” I cringe, because I hate admitting to her that I actually did that.

  “You called my mother?” she yells. “And she’s not at work. It’s her day off.”

  “I told you, I was worried. I’m your teacher. She isn’t suspicious,” I argue. “And she is at work. Why would she lie about that to me?”

  “Fine,” she says, gritting her teeth. “Come over. Don’t come over. I really don’t care anymore.” Silence greets me.

  She hung up on me.

  I put the phone on my bed and rub my eyes. What am I doing, going over there to see her? I can’t handle being in the same fucking classroom as her, and suddenly I’m going to her house?

  I want to call her back up and cancel, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I need to see her. I need to explain to her that I’m angry at myself, not her. That this whole fucking mess is my fault, not hers.

  I’ll go over there, say what I need to say, and then that will be it.

  Because one thing is for sure: we can’t keep on going like this.

  I knock on her door, my hands deep in the confines of my pockets as I try and ignore the pounding of my heart. I glance down the street for the fiftieth time, to make sure nobody can see me. I stand a little closer to the door so the porch roof shields me from view.

  She opens the door and even offers me a smile. I take it.

  “Hey,” she says.

  “Hey,” I mumble back. I flush when I realize I’m staring at her chest. This is me trying to play it cool? What a joke. She smirks, obviously enjoying my embarrassment.

  “Can I come in?” I ask.

  She nods but doesn’t move, forcing my body dangerously close to hers as I move inside. God, I’m dying here. My cock twitches, reminding me how fucking amazing it felt to be buried between her legs.

  “Through there. Drink?”

  I come crashing back down to reality by the sound of her voice. I shake my head. I just need to get this over with. I watch her shrug and sit down, the short black skirt of her dress catching on the cushion of the sofa. My heart flutters at the sight of her milky white thigh and I swallow hard. Maybe coming inside was a bad idea…

  I glance around, trying to contain my thoughts before I face her again. She’s staring at me intently, just waiting for me to speak. I clear my throat and swallow again.

  “Jill,” I mumble.

  That’s all I have. Nothing I say right now is going to project how I feel. I sense her before it registers what she’s doing. Jill rises, swings her leg over and plants herself on top of me. I groan but don’t resist, my hands riding her shirt up over her breasts. Our heads collide and my mouth ravishes hers as my hands fumble to remove her dress.

  “God, Jill. You’re naked under this,” I growl, my cock growing harder by the second. I massage her breasts, trailing kisses down over the warm, soft skin of her stomach as she cries out, pressing herself against my hardness.

  There’s nothing I want more than to fuck her senseless. I want to plunge my cock so deep inside her that she screams my name, over and over again.

  But I can’t fucking do it.

  I can’t risk hurting her like that. She might think she’s ready for this, but the reality is she’s eight years younger than I am, and my student. No matter how much you dress it up and try to call it something it’s not, I’m taking advantage of her.

  I respect her too much to do that.

  I push her away, attempting to cover her up with her dress. Her eyes widen as she stares at me, and I can just imagine what she’s thinking. All I know is I have to get out of here before I do something really stupid.

  “Jill, we can’t do this.” I laugh suddenly, raking my hand through my hair. This is ridiculous. “My God, why is this so fucking hard? You make me so crazy. I want you and I can’t stay away, but I have to. I fucking have to,” I growl, turning away.

  I hear her behind me. I feel her arms snake around my shoulders as she rests herself against me. I feel everything, and I’m trying, but God she is hard to resist. Her hands wrap around my cock and I gasp, but I don’t push her away. I want to, I should, but I can’t fucking do it. I groan, hardening in her hand. The need to be with her is overwhelming me.

  I spin around and pick her up, carrying her over to the sofa and laying her on her back. I lift her dress so it sits around her waist, her naked clit on display, begging for my tongue. I long to spend time making her come over and over again. My lips press against hers. She whimpers, her arms circling my neck as she pulls me deeper into the kiss.

  Rifling in my pocket for a condom, I roll it on, my mouth not straying from hers. I brush my finger over her and she flinches at my touch. So wet…

  “Argh,” she gasps as I thrust my length inside her.

  My tongue finds her neck as she arches her back, pushing her body against mine. I hesitate, mindful of how tight she is and how much of me she can handle.

  “Please, harder,” she gasps as I kiss her neck. “I need to feel every last inch of you.”

  Her encouragement is all I need. I speed up, driving myself deeper inside of her. She feels so fucking good; her pussy grips my cock, milking me. She whimpers, her arms curving around my neck as she comes. She’s so fucking beautiful. I shouldn’t have come here, but staying away seems like an impossible feat.

  I can’t do this to her. She deserves more.

  “Fuck. Fuck, Jill, we shouldn’t have done that,” I s
wear, leaping off the sofa and running a hand through my hair. Fuck. I’m such an idiot.

  “Why did you come here?” she responds angrily.

  I quickly dress and then head for the front door. I refuse to look at her, because I know one look and my resistance will fail.

  You’ve already hurt her enough. Just leave before you do any more damage.

  I stop just before I leave, my hand tightening on the door handle.

  “I’m sorry, Jill, but we shouldn’t be doing this. I think you need to transfer out of my class.”

  Chapter One

  Eli

  Rolling over, my back screams as I finally change the position I’ve been lying in for the last two hours—on the sofa, staring blankly at the television. I’m tired, but I’m too tired to sleep. Hell, I’ve been watching the same damn infomercial for the last half hour. If I have to listen to this guy’s spiel on the Nature Juicer one more time, I’m going to throw the fucking television out of my apartment window.

  My phone beeps on the floor below me. I lean over and fumble for it among the empty beer bottles and takeout containers, already knowing it’s from her.

  Jill: You can’t ignore me forever.

  I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. I see her every fucking day and there is nothing I can do about it. I’m in over my head, and I have no idea how to handle this. Our last contact was last week, at her house.

  “I’m sorry, Jill, but we shouldn’t be doing this. I think you need to transfer out of my class.”

  The words play over and over in my mind, haunting me because more than anything I want to be with her; but it’s not an option because she is my student and I’m her teacher.

  I know what you’re thinking.

  Predator. Pervert. Scumbag.

  They’re names I call myself every single day. But the thing is, it’s not like that—and I know every guy in the same situation probably says the same thing—but in my case, it’s the truth. Technically, she’s only been my student for the last six weeks, and even that was by pure coincidence.

  Technically . . . nearly everything can be rationalized on a technicality, right?

  We met online. She’d told me she was twenty; that she worked in an office. We had six months of getting to know one another before we finally took the plunge and met. The weekend that followed was the best of my life.

  I had fallen for the girl who hid behind the safety of her computer screen, with her smart mouth and witty sense of humor. By the time we actually met, she knew more about me than some of my closest friends, and I was gone. When I saw her walk through the door of the bar we’d arranged to meet at, I couldn’t believe my luck. She was gorgeous, and for some insane reason she seemed into me too.

  Finding Jill reaffirmed everything I already knew but was too scared to admit: that even I am capable of falling in love.

  Things were perfect.

  Until I found out the truth.

  That she wasn’t twenty. She was just a kid, pretending to be something she wasn’t. But the shocks didn’t end there. My dad—who I have a very strained relationship with—is sick. I came to Denver to help him out by taking over his classes. He needed a break from teaching and I needed the experience. It was a win/win, and I got to be closer to Jill. It was perfect.

  Only I didn’t realize how close this was going to get me.

  She wasn’t expecting me to walk into that classroom, and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see her sitting there. I’ll never forget how I felt that day. I’d been pacing the hall, trying to get her out of my mind while I waited for Dad to introduce me to the class. I walked inside, and when my eyes fell on her my heart plummeted.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  I could hear Dad’s voice, but I wasn’t taking in any of what he was saying. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from her. Wasn’t it bad enough that she lied to me? Now she had to be in my fucking classroom? There was no way I was going be able to handle this. I was sure everyone could tell right then and there that there was something between us. I’m a guy who fell in love with the wrong girl. I can’t even begin to explain how I feel because nothing makes sense to me anymore.

  The anger and frustration that she’d lied to me went away, but the feelings I felt for her didn’t. She lied to me about her age, but the person I’d spent six months getting to know was still the same sweet, funny girl. When I found out she was my student, I knew I needed to end it before things spiraled even more out of control. Only it wasn’t as simple as saying it’s over.

  It never is.

  I’ve tried staying away from her, but when you crave somebody as much as I do her, it’s impossible. So I’ll avoid her for as long as I need to, until I can control how I feel, because I know I don’t have the strength to refuse her.

  I stare at the screen in front of me and rub my eyes. I know it’s time to go to bed because I’m one second away from ordering one of these fucking juicers.

  ***

  I wake early the next morning, my neck crunched into an unnatural position against the arm of the sofa. My head is killing me. I’m not sure if it’s due to my sleeping position, or the lack of sleep catching up to me. After a quick shower and a breakfast consisting of black coffee—because I haven’t shopped for milk—I leave for work.

  I’m barely able to concentrate on the road as I drive into the harsh morning glare. School is only a few miles from my place, but time is dragging. I just want this day to be over so I can resume my position on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself. I pull into the staff parking lot and reverse into the first available spot.

  Sighing, I slouch in my chair, waiting for nine a.m. to roll around. It feels like I’ve been working for hours, but the day hasn’t even begun. I just want this whole mess to be over with. A few more days of teaching her and then I’ll at least have some distance to be able to sort my head out.

  Here I am, preparing for another day of pretending I don’t care about her. I feel like shit, and I’m pretty sure I look worse. I haven’t shaved in days, and my mind is riddled with thoughts of her.

  “Mr. Anderson, can I speak to you about this assignment?”

  I look up, my expression pained as I see Jill walking toward me. Really? For fuck’s sake, cut me some slack. The bell for the first class hasn’t even rung yet and I need to deal with her?

  “What is it?” I ask tersely.

  My jaw clenches as I hold her gaze. A shiver races through me; there’s anger in her eyes, and for a moment I feel guilty about pushing her away. But then I remind myself that she is the one who lied to me, and we wouldn’t be in this damn mess if she hadn’t lied about her age.

  She could have been just another random student in my class. Would I have looked at her the same way? Would my mind have been constantly rolling with thoughts of myself between her legs or kissing those fucking lips if she was simply a student? No. Things would’ve been much easier for both of us if we’d never met before this.

  “We have class in five minutes, Jill. I really don’t have time for this.”

  “You’re going to make time,” she replies evenly, placing her palms down on my desk. Her green eyes level on mine and I’m powerless. When I can’t even bring myself to look away, what hope do I have? “I deserve to know what’s going on. You think you can end us after fucking me? Are you trying to mess with me, or is that just a bonus?”

  She pauses and shakes her head.

  “I get that I lied to you, and if I could change that, I would. Honestly, no I wouldn’t. I don’t want to change it. Because the fact is you’re an amazing guy who wouldn’t have looked twice at me if you knew I was seventeen.”

  “Because it’s fucking wrong,” I explode.

  I hush my voice immediately when I remember where we are. My heart is racing as I rack my mind for a way to make her see why we will never happen, because she just doesn’t seem to be getting it.

  “What I want, it doesn’t matter, Jill. This can’t happen.�
�� My eyes dart toward the open door. “And we can’t be having this conversation here. Or anywhere.”

  I take a deep breath, lowering my voice.

  “I’m sorry, but we can’t do this.”

  She starts to protest, but I cut her off.

  “No, listen to me, dammit! I will not risk everything I’ve worked for on some silly crush.”

  Hurt fills her eyes as she blinks back tears. I hate that I’ve made her cry, but being blunt is the only way I can think of to get through to her.

  “If that’s all this was to you, then I’m not the only one who misrepresented who they are,” she whispers before storming off.

  ***

  Thank God today is over.

  I swear every fucking person was just around today to piss me off—students, other staff, everyone. Maybe it has something to do with my lack of sleep, but today is the first day where I’ve regretted my decision to teach. I’m sure a big part of that is this situation with Jill. I have no idea how to handle it. After our talk, she went out of her way to ignore me for the rest of the day, which I thought was what I wanted. But now I don’t know.

  Shoving my swipe key over the pad, I push the front door open with a little too much force and it bounces off the wall, slamming shut behind me. I throw my keys on the table, anger radiating off me. I need to let go of some of this emotion; it’s draining. I could just have a wank in the shower, but then I’d resort to thinking about her. And that’s the last thing I want to do. I need to forget.

  Grabbing my phone, I text Danny, my old high school buddy. Danny and I go way back. We went to the same college and got up to more shit than I care to admit—mostly because of his bad influence on me.

  While I studied Education and History, Danny studied Law—when he could fit classes in between parties, that is. But that didn’t stop him from graduating top of his class and being head-hunted by several huge firms all over the U.S. In the end he chose one of the top criminal defense firms in N.Y.C.

  Me: Run? Meet me at the park across from the hotel in fifteen?