Not all about You

Jace Parker

CLASS TRANSFER REQUEST FORM

I stare at it as if I hope it just disappears. She must have left this here before I got back to my class, in the brief period I went to the restroom.

She must have waited specifically for when I was out, and then came in so she could run away from me again.

Maya. My Maya.

She’s still as beautiful as I remember, although she seems incredibly different after only two years.

Of course she was younger back then, and adored me, but she just seems…mature now.

I can’t even imagine being a student and remaining that calm if my ex just showed up out of the blue and claimed to be my professor.

But those big brown doe eyes she gave me, the ones I’ll never forget, they were the same, they were my Maya.

But, not that the makeup and hair styling changes how beautiful she is, she seems to not do any of that anymore, even though she used to be one of those girls who spent an hour getting ready in the morning.

There were a few times I would watch her and it would consist of intricate hair placement and, although not too much makeup, still ages spent doing it. But I liked watching her.

Now, she wears no makeup, it looks like she doesn’t sleep at all with the dark circles under her eyes, and she wears baggy sweaters with jeans instead of her fitted shorts or skirts and crop tops.

She loved showing off her gorgeous figure, which is why she caught my attention. She wasn’t slutty, no, never slutty. And she was never desperate. She just looked at me like I was some divine god.

And I didn’t deserve it. I dumped her by text like the cowardly asshole I was, and still am. I can’t say I’ve changed too much, although my mom’s ill health has put my life into perspective.

Seeing Maya again brought back all that guilt I felt. I’d buried it deep inside, but I knew what I had done. I didn’t mean to make her feel like she didn’t matter to me, like what we had didn’t matter.

Because it did. Even though she was four years younger than me, she was the only girlfriend I actually committed to fully.

I know that makes me the bad guy, the player, the typical frat boy who couldn’t help but cheat on the girls he claimed to like, but I never did that with Maya. Maya and I were real.

But four years is a lot. Especially since we were so young, we’re still so young.

And with the changes in my life, graduating in a year, my dad marrying another woman and having a new stepbrother, I thought I needed to end it with Maya.

The way I did it was about as cowardly as you can get. And I expected if I ever saw Maya again, she would yell at me like I were the real devil.

But she didn’t. She just…talked.

And now I’m sitting here with her transfer request form. She wants me to sign it. I could see the pleading in her eyes, that she really despised being in a class with me.

And then I kissed her, hoping that all of it would go away, that everything else wouldn’t matter and I had never hurt her and we could just be there for that minute.

I wanted it to be longer, to hold her longer. Her plump pink lips on mine, just the way I remember them.

I watched her throughout my lesson, and then discreetly for the rest of the day. She’s right. She gets distracted by me being here, and I get distracted by her too.

She affects me too, more than she can ever know. Maybe it’s part guilt, about how I left things with her, but it’s partly my love for her. I was never lying when I told her I loved her.

I never lied to her. But I just thought that we wouldn’t work out, and I wanted to move on. I wanted to move away from my dad and his new family after college. And Maya was a part of that life.

I should have asked Maya about her life, her family. After her mom died, her dad was very distant and worked all the time, and was very strict.

And because she partied with me, and stayed at my place overnight many times, they got into heated arguments. I wonder if they’re better now.

There’s so much I want to say to her, to ask her, but I feel as though it’s no longer my place to ask anything about her personal life.

She made it pretty clear that after our conversation, she just wants to be professor and student.

When I was watching her today, she didn’t talk to anyone at all. Not the social butterfly I remember. At her old school, she was rich with friends.

Now, I watch people attempt to converse with her and she ignores them entirely. She just reads, in her little corner outside on a bench. So peacefully. So beautifully.

I was her stalker for the day, and most probably for weeks to come.

Some guys were even flirting with her, which she completely brushed off. Either she’s now struggling with social cues or she simply doesn’t care about guys and dating and love anymore.

Or maybe she’s still hung up on me. I secretly hope she is, even though she’s my student.

But I should sign it. That’s what she wants. Although, I always have been selfish. I want her. Just seeing her brings everything back, everything that we had, everything that I felt with her.

Sure, I’ve been with other girls since Maya, but I’ve never felt the way I felt with Maya.

I think it was how outgoing she was. She would sneak out of her house to party with me, and she loved to dance on the tables. She loved stripteasing me, loved skinny-dipping, loved to have fun.

She grew up, I guess, much more than me. I want fun with her, and she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore.

Call me a dick or a piece of shit, but I miss the girl she was. I miss the excitement she gave me. I thought I would leave that at college, however, those were the best years of my life.

And I want her to enjoy life again.

So, sign it or not? I don’t really have a choice though, do I? It’s not like they’ll grant it anyway. They rarely do, unless there’s a valid reason. And she’s not about to tell anyone the reason.

She wouldn’t do that, not to me. And she’s not leaving with only a year left here.

“Mr. Parker,” a female voice declares, snapping me out of my daze. I didn’t even hear her come into my classroom, and yet here she is, leaning back on the desk in front of mine with a flirtatious smile.

How I wish it was Maya there. But I’m Mr. Parker, I’m a professor, I’m an adult, and this professor is hot.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I haven’t seen you around much all day, and the other professors have all welcomed you. I’m Bridget, Miss Wexler.”

She exaggerates the “’miss” to tell me she’s unmarried and most probably single.

“Jace,” I greet back with one of my signature smirks.

Her smile widens, and she adjusts her shirt casually to show me more of her cleavage. Her blonde hair is flicked behind her, her hazelnut eyes.

“Would you like to get a drink with me? First days can be the hardest, especially at a college,” she says.

“I’d love a drink,” I reply.

I need one too. Maya doesn’t want me anymore. She may still be affected by me, but she won’t forgive me. I can see it in her eyes. She’s… changed, and not up for fun, and I need something, someone, now.

I follow Bridget out and trail behind her in our cars. I don’t plan to drink too much, just… go back to her place, fuck her, then leave. It’s been my motto since Maya.

I’m not going to have any more emotional attachments.

And it took one drink before she invited me to her place.

“Oh… fuck, Jace…ah…,” she moans while riding me, jerking her hips every which way. And my hands lift her hips up and down mercilessly, in… rage.

I signed it. I signed what she wanted to be signed. I’m angry that she’s so cold to me, that she wants nothing to do with me after all we had together.

Every pound into Bridget’s pussy is another piece of my irritation toward Maya. Every bit of our conversation today fired me up, and this is how I’m letting it loose.

Not the best way, as Bridget is a professor at the school where I’m working, and I’ll see her every day. I’ll see Maya every day.

Fuck me.