Beautiful Monster (Page 22)

Beautiful Monster (Beautiful Monster #1)(22)
Author: Bella Forrest

“Can I act?” I asked, even though I already knew his answer. He turned his head towards me; a smile playing off his lips.

“Amy, when you act I forget that anything else exists but the world you are creating. Somehow, untrained, you understand more than the students who’ve had twelve years here. You’re a diamond in the rough … an oasis in the desert. You’re a…” We were interrupted by his stomach growling. I laughed.

“I’m a good girlfriend who feeds you good food, and that’s the only reason you’re here,” I said, and he leant on his elbows.

“That’s part of it.”

I had prepared Oatmeal cookies last night when I went home to visit my father, and I brought out a plate of them now, placing them between us on the bed.

“How long can you stay?” I asked, and he stifled a yawn.

“A few hours of quality time, at least. I was wondering if you had given any thought to the dance class that was added to the semester.”

I shrugged.

“Only if it starts at a kindergarten level. I’m not a dancer. Who’s teaching it?”

“A dance teacher from Russia,” he said. “And a few guest instructors, like Porsche, when I can get them.”

“Forget that then,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ll look like an elephant in a tutu.”

“But a very cute one,” He said, poking at the cookies.

“How did you meet Porsche?” I asked, and he cocked his head.

“Why?”

“Just curious,” I said, with a casual shrug. He took my hand, squeezing it.

“Amy, I told you, there’s absolutely nothing to be jealous of.”

“I know,” I replied, looking out the window as a kite flew by. “I just…want to know. Since she’s your closest friend, right?”

“Right,” he thought for a moment, and then shrugged. “We met at a party years ago. She was the life of the party, and I fell into her. Literally tripped. She’s a fun girl, and there are things about us that click, like the fact that we’re both performers. But really, Amy, it’s not like that.” He pulled me closer, laying a light kiss on my lips. “Truly, you’re the only person I have eyes for.”

I nodded, savoring the kiss. There was something about Liam’s eyes that told me there was more to the story, but I didn’t question it. I felt, at least regards to me that he was telling the truth, and that was all that mattered.

When I had told Sarah the whole story, she had of course questioned everything; his friendship with Porsche, the legality of the fact that he was my teacher, the age gap, everything. Sometimes I think she wanted me to film every aspect of my life and play it back for her.

Of course, I had not told my father. I couldn’t imagine how severe his reaction would be. Dad also wanted me to account for my actions every moment of the day, and I knew he was starting to notice the huge gaps of time that went un-talked about – the times I snuck away to spend with Liam.

I wasn’t sure if any of the other students or faculty members had noticed either. I mean, before this, the girls knew I was Liam’s favorite, and I suffered for it. But nothing had changed in that respect, so perhaps they hadn’t noticed. As for the faculty, I was quite sure they’d bring it to his attention and not mine but he hadn’t said anything to me about needing to be more careful. The only one who I thought might be in on the secret was his secretary, who kept her face deliberately blank as I came and left his office day after day.

She must have heard the goings on, who couldn’t. Liam and I could entertain each other perfectly for days just cracking jokes, or rehearsing. But more often than not, when we had private time, that’s not what we were doing. I was sitting in his lap, my legs wrapped around him, as we made out, or running my hands up and down his chest as we sank to the floor. He was going to drive me crazy before the year was up, I could tell.

And although it was wonderful, it was the times we sat and talked that I enjoyed the most.

Taking the remote, I turned on the television, flipping through the channels.

“What are we watching?” asked Liam, his mouth full of cookies.

“We…are…watching…this,” I finally landed on Shakespeare in Love, the opening credits just rolling. He shrugged and I settled back into his arms, munching on a cookie myself. As the movie began to play, I closed my eyes, feeling warm, comfortable and safe against Liam. He gave me a squeeze, wrapping his strong arms around me, and we settled further into the pillows. Soon the cookie tray was empty. We put it aside and sprawled out on the bed. Cuddling close to him as the movie went on, I fell asleep.

My cell phone ringing woke me up with a jolt. The room was a lot darker than the last time my eyes were open and the TV was now playing an endless infomercial. I leapt up to grab it.

“Hello?” I asked, frantic and still groggy with sleep.

“Can I speak to Amy?” said a female voice. I recognized the drone of a call center in the background, and rolled my eyes.

“No, she’s out right now,” I said and hung up, turning back to Liam who sat up abruptly, also startled by the noise.

“What time is it?” he asked, running a hand over his face.

“Uh…6” I said, and he jumped up immediately. “Everything ok? Liam?” I grabbed his arm as he shot past me, taking his coat from the hanger. “Are you ok? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine, but I have to go,” he said, not looking at me. He laid a quick kiss on my cheek and hurried towards the door, not even pausing for a cautious minute to make sure the hall was empty. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Amy,” he said, and practically slammed the door behind him. I stood in the middle of the floor confused, and wondering how a telemarketer cell phone call had possibly offended him.

Mind you, we had never fallen asleep together. While comfortable for me, I realized it may have made him feel uncomfortable – especially this early on. With a shrug, I switched off the TV and pulled my hair into a bun. I had homework to finish anyway.

Around 10pm, I closed my books, sighing. I was well into the work I needed to do, and I could have kept going, had it not been for that sound again. Every evening, around this time, I could hear someone crying as if their soul was breaking through the walls. At first I assumed it was a homesick student, or maybe a student who had a bad day – something that would be temporary and go away. But this was continuous as if they were on a timer. Every night at dark, it sounded like someone was being tortured.