Sadie

They ate in silence. When he looked across to her, he found her picking at her food, looking painfully young once more. Her eyes flicked up after a few seconds and she noticed his gaze. Blushing, she set the plate of partially eaten rice back onto the table.

"I'm sorry. I thought I was hungry."

"It's fine." He smiled at her, and she crossed the distance between them then, sliding along the couch and leaning her head against him. He put an arm around her in comfort and continued his meal.

"I hate it," she said suddenly, taking a deep breath, and it took him a few seconds to react to her sudden outburst.

"Hate what, Sadie?"

"Everything!" She sat up, her cheeks colored. "I hate that I don't fit in with anyone at school, and I hate that everyone keeps telling me that's normal for someone like me. I hate it at home! I know that sounds juvenile, but I just hate it! The only time I feel understood is when I'm with you, and you're... you're afraid of touching me."

Her eyes filled with tears, and he hastily sat his plate down, taking her into his arms and holding her. She smelled incredibly good, and he tried to focus even as she shook, crying. His hand tangled itself in her smooth, soft hair and he tried to calm her by stroking it.

"I had sex," she told him suddenly, hiccuping, and he thought he had misheard. But she repeated it, sounding distraught, while he felt her tears drip down her cheek and onto his wrist.

"I had sex. It was awful. I never go to the parties, you know, but I went to that one. I've been trying to fit in with people for so long now, and I'm so sick of it all. I thought maybe it would help to talk to people there, to show them I'm more than just studious, and I shouldn't have started drinking, but I did, and I know it was stupid." She sobbed, and hiccupped again. He closed his eyes, trying to think of something to say, but there was nothing that would comfort her.

"It was so horrible," she whispered. "I was so ashamed. And all I could think of, after, was that I didn't want my first time to be like this. I wanted it to be you. I've wanted that for so long."

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest when he heard that. He couldn't stand seeing her like this, falling apart, and he would have given anything to make her forget her pain.

Sadie lifted her head, her hair clinging to his shoulder and falling bit by bit as she moved away. Her cheeks were wet. Her eyelashes were clumping together from the moisture, and her dark eyes were slightly red-rimmed, which somehow made them look even more beautiful. He reached for her face, and without thinking kissed her trembling lips, over and over again.

She responded with a passion that surprised him, pressing herself against him, still sobbing. She climbed onto his lap and straddled him, making him nervous. They never broke the kiss as her hands started wandering, tenderly touching his hair, his cheek, his neck, then fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He was too preoccupied to care. Her feather-light, lovely body was distracting to the point where he was afraid of her pressing too close, and he attempted to shift her into a slightly more secure position.

"Don't... please," Sadie whispered, making him gasp when she moved her hips. "I want this."

He squeezed his eyes shut, summoning all the inner strength he had left, and found that there was none. Sadie was simply turning him to jelly. Her hands were busy wandering down his chest, her mouth now kissing along his neck and collar. He hadn't felt this ridiculously excited since he'd been a teenager.

She let go of him for just a second, to pull her t-shirt over her head and drop it next to him on the couch. He moved his hands up her slender body while she kissed him again, feeling soft skin and the edge of her simple cotton bra. He could feel Sadie's hands shaking as she unbuckled his belt, and he lifted his hand further to stroke her hair, stopping when he felt new wetness rolling down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," she immediately apologized when he held her wrists, pushing her away slightly so he could look at her. "I can do this. Let me... please... ." She was looking distraught.

He shook his head mutely. The tears continued to drip off her face, flowing silently while her lips shook and she seemed to be searching for something to say. He finally just took her into his arms again, holding her tightly while she cried. They sat like this for a long time, while he considered how to handle this.

"Do you want to go to bed?" he finally asked her gently. "I think some sleep might be a good idea right now."

She nodded slowly. He grasped her tighter, lifting her with him as he stood up and carried her out of the living room and through the hallway to his bedroom. When he sat her down on the bed, he was reluctant to let her go. She seemed so fragile.

"Do you want some tea?" he offered, kissing her forehead. She had calmed a bit by now, but the tears hadn't quite stopped yet. She nodded, and, resolving that it might be good to give Sadie a few minutes alone, he went to boil water.

She was under the covers when he finally returned, carrying two steaming cups of peppermint tea. She had used a few of his Kleenex to wipe her face and blow her nose, and she had shed the rest of her clothes, so that he could now see the unbroken curve of her slender neck and shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but she managed a shaky smile when he sat down next to her and offered her a cup.

"Thanks." She opened her eyes and sat up, blanket covering her front. The sight still filled him with warmth. When she accepted the cup and blew softly on the liquid, he couldn't resist stretching out his hand for the skin of her arm, and touching it softly.

"Feeling better?" he asked when she had taken a sip. She nodded, reluctantly, as she set the cup down.

"You must find me pretty silly."

She made him smile, and he leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"Sadie, there are so many words to describe you, but silly isn't one I'd pick."

She smiled back and stretched out her arms for him, and he leaned forward and embraced her.

"I'm sorry this happened, Sadie," he told her. "I'm so sorry, and I wish I could change the fact that it happened. I wish I could make you forget it."

She was silent for a little while, and all he felt was his own heartbeat, her arms squeezing him slightly, and her hair tickling his chin.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" she asked then. "Of touching me, I mean. I wish you weren't."

"I can't help that it feels wrong," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "You were my student, Sadie. You were thirteen."

"And now I'm eighteen, and I'm still a silly girl sometimes, but I'm also a woman." She looked up at him, pleading. "I'm grown. I need you to see that."

She was much too tempting, and he couldn't ignore that temptation any longer. His resolve was melting away like snow in the summer. He had to leave her. He sighed, kissing her lips, and then reluctantly got up from his sitting position.

"There are a few things I have to get done before I go to bed," he told her, keeping his face carefully blank. "Can you go to sleep without me, or do you want me to keep sitting with you?"

Sadie simply smiled and fell back into the pillow, closing her eyes. "Just be back soon," she whispered, and the look of her serene face alone made his heart jump.

He didn't come back.

He couldn't. He spent the night sitting in his chair, staring out the window and waiting for the churning feeling inside him to go away. That didn't happen, either.

He felt guilty, so damn guilty about leaving her alone, because there was nothing more that he wanted than to comfort her.

Well, there was one thing he wanted more. He wanted her to be alright. He wanted her to grow up into the woman he knew she would be one day, but she wasn't there yet. He had no way of knowing what would happen if he slept with her now, but he had made the decision, heavy-hearted, that he couldn't risk finding out.

His hands shook as he drained his mug of tea. He felt helpless, though in a different way than before. Instead of helping her get through this rough spot in her life, he would have to break her heart. He would make her breakfast tomorrow morning, carefully refraining from touching her. Then he would drive her home. He would try to ask her, as gently as possible, not to come back to see him at school. And she wouldn't understand until much, much later why he had done it.

He walked to the hallway closet in search for a blanket, then returned to the living room, preparing to go to sleep in his chair.

She would heal. She would recognize the crush for what it was, move on, and find someone who was better for her. He knew she felt alone, but surely there was someone out there for her, someone she would feel comfortable with. Someone she could trust.

But maybe he was mistaken, maybe she did love him.

He closed his eyes, imagining how things might be, twelve years down the road. He'd be in his fifties, and she would have reached thirty. Maybe she would have found herself by then. He would still be teaching, likely, and he also knew he would still be thinking of her. He wondered what she might be doing at this point. If fate had already bound her to someone else, he would be happy for her.

If not, maybe they would find each other then.