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Professor taught him more than academics.

You were looking sharp. We talked about everything, and not once did you say anything out of the way to me. You can carry a conversation, and, you were interesting to boot. Even after we parted ways relationship wise, I always thought that our date was the best first date I ever had." She smiled halfway. "What happened to us?"

"You know what happened. You left because you... wait. I'm not getting into this." I started to walk towards the bedroom. "You know where the pillows and blanket are, use them."

"I left because I was stupid," she answered.

I stopped walking. My back was to her.

"I left because I thought I could one-up you, find someone who was just like you, but not so... so..." She trailed off. I turned to her, and stared.

"So, what?" I asked.

"You have a penchant for being sarcastic. You're so good at it, at times, I couldn't tell if you were for real, or just joking. If you were showing your true feelings, or just being nice to me. I needed to know and instead of saying that, I just left. After we separated, I knew how to tell the difference, I knew that you cared for me. I only wish I could've known that sooner, instead of walking out on you."

My nostrils flared, my jaw tightened. I proclaimed, "Yes, YOU walked out on ME. And now, I'm about to do the same. Good night."

As I turned to walk away, she came from behind me. She gently placed her hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said, "Please forgive me."

I sneered. "Forgive you? What we had... I would've given anything to keep you around. You acted as if I offended you, or hit you, or cheated on you. And now, after all this time, after I finally swallowed what feelings I did have for you, just to salvage a friendship YOU wanted, here you go, 6 months later, in my home, asking me what went wrong, as if our relationship just fell apart of it's own will. Sure, I'll forgive you, in due time. But tonight, sweetheart, isn't that time. And tomorrow isn't looking too good either. Good night."

Before I could go into the bedroom, she grabs my hand. I turn to say something else, but before I could, she kisses me. I grab her arms gently and pull her away. I lick my lips, and the taste of the wine mixed with the gum she had earlier danced on my tongue. I look at her, and I see the pool of tears start to form in her eyes. My heart races, I can't stand to see her cry. I wipe the two tears that start to fall away. She shudders at my touch. I move her hair from her right eye to catch a good look at her whole face. I missed her, more than she knew, simply because I didn't have the guts to tell her. She looks down at the floor. I pick her chin up, and before she could turn away, I kiss her. It was a soft kiss, one meant to let her know that I still care. She pulls her head back, almost unsure what the kiss meant. She then comes in for another kiss. I tried to not kiss her again, tried not to pick at this old wound that I have on my heart, but it was too late. We start kissing slowly. Her mouth opened partly, and her tongue was on mine in an instant.

I backed her slowly to the wall, kissing along the way. She moaned softly, rubbing her hands across my back and head. The kissing was getting more intense, and I placed my hands on the small of her back. She started kissing me harder. I took my left hand and pulled her right leg up on my hip. She responds by moving her left leg on my hip as well, making me support her medium frame by putting my hands on her backside. We continue to kiss, and as I do so, I start moving my hands up her dress. She stops kissing me, breathing heavily. She looks into my eyes.

"Tell me," she pleaded.

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me you still want me. Better yet, show me."

I shifted my weight, put her down on her feet.

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