Eighteen (18)(36)

But I don’t say them. I know he wants me to admit that I like this. But I’m just not sure I do. He’s confusing me. He mixing up the school work with the sex, even though the other day he said they are not related. He’s making them related. He’s tying my need to finish this class in with his desire to control me.

So I keep quiet and he turns some music on—Cage the Elephant, by some stupid twist of fate—and I just stare out at the other cars on the freeway. It takes a good half hour to get to Laguna and the town is bustling with people out for the evening. We park the car and get out, Mateo grabbing a backpack stuffed with things and slinging it over his shoulder as he takes my hand.

Takes. My. Hand.

I look down at it.

“You don’t like the hand-holding?” he asks, as we walk through the small grassy area towards the steps that will take us down to the beach.

“I just don’t understand the hand-holding.”

“It’s a pretty basic display of affection, Shannon. Not real complicated.”

“Ummm. It’s very complicated when you’re f*cking your teacher who is ten years older than you.”

He lets go of my hand. “OK.”

I sigh. Jesus Christ. Why did I even come out with him tonight? Why the hell am I even talking to this creep? He’s probably a serial killer. He probably likes weird sex with butt plugs and whips.

“Do you know what the new moon is?”

I roll my eyes. “I might only be eighteen but I’m not an idiot.”

“I have never thought you were an idiot, Shannon Drake. Ever. So do you know what it is?” he repeats.

“There’s no moon on the new moon.”

“But you probably don’t know why, right? Most people don’t understand the movement of the moon, and that’s cool, because it’s sorta complicated. That’s all I’m asking, Shannon. Why do you get so defensive?”

“Why do you make me feel so stupid?”

“Do I?” he asks. “It’s not one of my goals with you, so take that any way you want.”

I say nothing after that. I’m too busy noticing how f*cking dark and empty of people it is down here on the beach. It’s winter, for one. And cold in a SoCal kind of way. Regardless of what people think, the beach isn’t somewhere people go on winter nights.

We walk out to the middle of the beach and he unpacks a blanket and throws it down on the sand. “Come on,” he says, lowering himself down. I just stand there as he takes his shoes off.

“Are you going to f*ck me out here?”

He laughs. “I wasn’t planning on it, but hey, I won’t turn you down if you insist.”

I lower myself to my knees and sit back on my butt.

“Take off your shoes, for f*ck’s sake. It’s the beach.”

I reposition myself and take off my Chucks, and then stretch out my legs next to his as he lies back and puts his hands behind his neck. I follow along, doing the same.

“So that orange star right there,” he says, pointing up at the sky, “is Aldebaran. It’s in the constellation Taurus.”

“Hmmm,” I say, trying to find which of the many points of light he’s talking about. “I can’t tell which one is which.”

“Look at that row of stars right there.” He points. “Those three that are bright and close together, that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“OK, I see those.”

“Go up and to the right, that bright orange one is Aldebaran.”

“Got it.”

“And if you drop down to the left again, right below Orion’s Belt, that’s Rigel. And if you go over to the left even more, that bright blue one is Sirius. Have you heard of any of these?” he asks.

“Sirius. And Orion’s Belt, of course. But I’ve never looked up and seen them in person before.”

“Aldebaran is sixty-five point two three light years away from Earth. Sirius is eight point six eleven. Sirius is the brightest star in the sky because it’s one of the closest stars to Earth. It would be easy to conclude that Sirius is the closest star to Earth, since it’s the brightest. But you can’t rely on brightness to prove distance, because not all stars are the same size, and of course, size does matter.”

I chuckle with him over the sex joke.

“The purpose of trig is to find distances by using the sides of a triangle, which are based on circles. So in astronomy we use a certain form of it to find distances between stars, or how far away a star is from the Sun or some other celestial object.”

“Are you really talking about math right now?”

“Why not? You seem to be fixated on my role as your teacher. I’m a good teacher, Shannon. You should give me a chance.”

“I totally give up, Mateo. You officially win. Because I just don’t understand you.” I look over at him and he’s smiling so big I have to shake my head and laugh. “What?”

“I wore you down?”

“Just—f*ck. You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before. You are seriously the strangest person ever.”

“Anyway,” he says with a chuckle. “Trig is about circles and triangles. And they are related by drawing lines that originate from the center.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” I say. “I don’t want to hear this.”