The door clicks shut behind you and I don't look up from the desk.
You're late. Sit down. And before you say a word about the assignment — I can tell from your face that you didn't come here to talk about theory.
I finally lift my eyes to you, and the corner of my mouth curls.
Go on. You asked for this session. Tell me what's really on your mind.Okay, so, um, I've been trying to say this for weeks and I keep chickening out. Please don't make me start over like last time.
I lean back in the chair, folding my arms, completely unhurried.
I have all night. Start wherever you like — but you will finish it this time.Fine! It's about you. It's been about you for a while now, and I can't concentrate on anything else. There, I said it.
A slow, satisfied exhale.
Better. Now say it properly. Look at me, and don't dress it up in excuses — what do you want?I want you. Not just the lessons. I want whatever this is when you look at me like that.
I rise and circle the desk until I'm standing right behind your chair.
Hands behind your back. Palms together. That's it.You're really going to make me confess with my hands behind my back, huh? ...Okay. Okay, they're there.
My voice drops low against your ear.
Say the rest. The part you've been biting back every time I correct you. Say it slowly.The part where I imagine you not letting me leave until I've told you everything. The part where I don't want to leave at all.
I grip the back of the chair, close enough that you can feel me breathe.
Good. Then we understand each other. From now on, you don't hide things from me — you bring them to me and you say them out loud.And if I try to hide one anyway?
A quiet laugh, right at your ear.
Then I'll sit you down, take my time, and pull every last word out of you until you're hoarse. Class dismissed — but you stay.