--- All involved parties are over the age of 18 ---
On Monday morning, Jane called in sick. The entire weekend had been horrible and the more she thought about what she'd done the more disgusted and distressed she became.
Her emotions had finally boiled over on Sunday morning, when James became growingly concerned and finally asked her what was wrong. When she tried to assure him she was just feeling under the weather and he pressed her further, she finally snapped.
"Just leave me alone," she shouted, turning her back to him and curling up even tighter beneath the blankets.
James sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Jane, this isn't like you. I know something's wrong. Please, just talk to me."
Jane squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. She couldn't tell him. She just couldn't.
"There's nothing to talk about," she muttered.
"Bullshit," James snapped, his temper finally getting the best of him. "You've been moping around all weekend, barely talking to me. Just fucking tell me already!"
Jane's heart raced as she heard the anger in his voice. Although there was a part of her that desperately wanted to get it off her chest, there was no way she could tell him what happened. It would destroy everything they had built together and almost certainly cost her her job and their reputation in the community.
"I just need some time to myself," she whispered brokenly.
With that, James had muttered something under his breath and left the bedroom. Jane stayed in bed the rest of the day and evening, even pretending to be asleep when he finally came to bed that night.
Calling in sick the following morning had been a difficult decision for her. She felt like skiping school that day was giving Chris all of the power. That she had let him get into her head and she was afraid of facing him at school.
But in fact, that was exactly how she felt: she just didn't have it in her to face him. She was racked with guilt and shame and frankly, she was worried about what he may do the next time they met. She knew it was impossible, but she desperately hoped if she could just avoid him and bury her head in the sand, this would all eventually go away.
But as Monday progressed, and she agonized over the situation, her thinking began to shift. She needed to face this head on, she decided, find out exactly what Chris wanted from her. For starters, any further sexual encounters between them were completely out of the question, she told herself. There had to be something else he was willing to bargain for, something she could offer him that didn't involve crossing that unthinkable line again. She had to put an end to this, once and for all.
By Tuesday morning, Jane was feeling confident she would be able to come to some sort of truce with Chris. For crying out loud, she thought, he's an 18 year old kid. Surely someone with her intelligence and maturity could negotiate a resolution that would set her free.
She saw Chris during first period Tuesday but that was it for the day. However, as soon as the school bell rang to end the day, Jane gathered her things and quickly made her way to the parking lot. She got in her car and slowly drove around the school parking lot, searching for Chris' car. When she found it, she pulled into the parking spot beside it and waited.
She sat there for almost 20 minutes and was ready to just leave and try again tomorrow when Chris finally showed up. He didn't seem to notice Jane sitting in the car next to him. She took a deep breath and rolled down her window.
"We need to talk," Jane called out to him.
Chris turned and looked at her, looking genuinely surprised. He glanced around the parking lot as if nervous about who else may be watching him talking with his teacher.
"Ok," he hesitated. "Well, now isn't a good time. I have practice in an hour so we're going to grab a bite to eat first."
Jane saw one of Chris' friends walk up to his passenger side door. He looked over the hood of Chris' car and gave Jane a wide smile and a nod.
"Hey, Ms. Myers," Dylan greeted her.
Dylan was a tall and muscular African-American boy with blonde tips in his short hair. He had transferred to Hastings High mid-way through the year, and though Jane didn't know all of the details, she had heard that he'd had some drama at home that had kept him out of school just long enough for him to be held back his grad year. Like Chris, he was now one of the handful of 18 year olds at Charles Hastings that seemed out of place with the rest of the students.
He didn't appear to have made many close friends yet, but Chris was one of the few that Jane did see him around. She assumed it was because they were teammates on the football team, because he certainly seemed to be a quieter and friendlier kid than Chris.
"Hi, Dylan," Jane replied, trying her best to sound casual.
Dylan climbed into Chris' car and closed his door.
"Chris, we need to talk," Jane repeated, her voice an urgent whisper.
Chris stared at her for a long moment before finally nodding. "Alright, fine. But now isn't good. I will text you."
"Chris, you can't just text me whenever --" Jane hissed, before looking through his car window and giving Dylan a calm smile.
"I said," Chris interupted. "I will text you. Geez, relax would ya?"
Jane was surprised to hear the confidence in his firm tone. She had intended to control this conversation, to assert some sort of dominance over this insolent teenager. Instead, Chris seemed to once again be the one dictating the terms of their interaction.
Jane watched in shock as he opened his door and climbed into the driver's seat. He started the engine before giving her a cocky wink.
"I've got a busy week, Ms. Myers," Chris said with a smirk. "But I will be in touch. Keep your phone close."
With that, Chris slammed his car door, pulled out of the parking spot, and drove off, leaving Jane stunned. She sat there for several minutes, trying to process what had just happened. Chris had been so arrogant, so dismissive. He had completely turned the tables on her, making her feel like the submissive one in their twisted dynamic. It made her blood boil.
To make things worse, he did so right in front of Dylan. What had Chris told him? she wondered. Certainly he would find it odd that a teacher would be talking with a student like that in the parking lot. He would have sensed the strange dynamic between them during their brief interaction. What if Chris had told Dylan what happened between them?
"Shit," she muttered, laying her head on the steering wheel.
