I'm sitting in my shitty car wishing I had brought my grandfather Vader's old flask. A peculiar name, I know, but one I've become accustomed to as a man who I never knew, who my mom never knew, who's name is engraved on my favorite way to escape. Well, besides art.

He was some war veteran, went nuts during the war, killed many, and then retired to solitude and a slow death. It wasn't until right before he died that my mother discovered him. The whiskey and war had done their number by that time and he was gone within two months. I didn't want to meet him. Another let down for my mother.

Some whiskey would maybe help me forgot how nervous I am, how many times I've checked my rearview mirror to see if she is there. Rey.

But never in my world would I operate any machinery in a manner threatening that girl's life, so I tuck the thought away, and the urge with it.

Admittedly, I love her. It's been mere months and I've come to love her more than I love myself. It didn't take much to be sure.

I hate myself for it and it's still the best thing that's ever happened to me. She is the best thing.

I consider going to check on her for the umpteenth time when she swings around the block into the street we agreed to meet on. Picking her up in the teachers' parking lot is not the best idea, and she agreed easily to meet me elsewhere.

She's dressed in her black dress and some high heels. No. Not a dress. A jumper or whatever she would call it.

The garment gives the appearance of a flowy dress but it instead has pant legs. It cinches at the waist and reminds me of a genie or sultan, but instead of rich colors, Rey is doused in black. It's both so Rey and so unlike Rey that I nearly believe it's someone else.

More to my dismay and delicious satisfaction, her gown dips down almost to her belly button, exposing the wide valley between her budding breasts.

I'm mesmerized as she struts down the sidewalk toward my vehicle, wishing the moment could never end, wishing I had all the time to grab the sketchbook I always keep on my person to capture her elegance.

Even though she seems to be hating her heels, she walks with such strength and confidence, such purpose, as if the earth were made for her. It's breathtaking.

She's wearing a little makeup, just enough to accentuate her features. Her eyebrows are in full force tonight.

I gulp and decide it's best to get out of the car before I implode in my seat.

I exit the car and round the front to open her door for her. She carries nothing on her person but an old Nokia in her hand which she immediately hands me.

"Please, hold this for me. Plutt's not gonna call but he likes to be able to reach me at all times."

"Of course." I take the phone, and immediately enter my own number, saving it under Kylo. She raises an eyebrow at me. "Just in case," I say with a smile and she simply shrugs and brushes past me to sit in the car.

I keep my eyes from wandering, successfully, and instead scan for unwanted witnesses. She gets in and I get back to my seat promptly, taking us to destination one: a restaurant called The Iron Gate.

It's been a long time since I've been here, since my mother last brought me. Rey orders escargot out of plain curiosity and I stick with a grilled tenderloin steak with potatoes au gratin and asparagus.

It's quiet but the looks between us speak a thousand words. I watch her amused as she plays around with the snails. I expect her to like them as I had, able to get past the fact that they are indeed fancy snails.

To my delight, she is gobbling within seconds of trying her first one, the only thing slowing her is the slippery nature of her meal. One pops out of her hand and flies towards a nearby wait staff member, barely missing her. Rey covers her mouth and throws her head back, roaring in laughter.

I love her.

And. I'm not sure. I'm not sure if it's like an apprentice, a girl I love to care for. Or.

More.

I know the truth but the truth goes back and forth. It's harder to admit to yourself when things are like that. I shake the vague idea that I will never know love like this, instead focusing on Rey. The way she talks, the small things that giver her thoughts away. The things only I pick up on.

I can tell she's nervous about the gallery opening. She pretends not to be but everything she does, everything she says points otherwise. I've seen the way she moves through the halls of school and remember the way she shied away from crowds at the mall. She shouldn't be concerned.

I allow myself two Glen McKenna Scotches throughout the dinner, needing them, and when it comes time to pay, I swig the last of it, knowing it did very little to help. With my tolerance and size, it was bound to do nothing but slightly blur the edge that had taken over my being. Allows me to blur some other lines as well, as horrible as it sounds.

This is the most horrifyingly nervous night of my life. Rey serves me a platter of firsts.

Outside, the valet hands me my keys we make our exit. I know it's colder than before so I drape my jacket over Rey's bare shoulders. She's so small, and all I can hope is she feels safe in my larger jacket.

I love her.

It's not late at all but the drive will take a little bit. I tell her to play her music on my Spotify. Some of it is very odd, concentrated instruments making mobius after algorithm, but I follow it as I follow her gaze out the window as I can.

I love her.

I can't stop thinking it. I'm afraid I might say it, I'm thinking it so often, spontaneously.

I can't emphasize more how painfully nervous I am. But this is her night, not mine.

We pull up to the next valet at the gallery. The young chap grabs my keys disappointedly, clearly wishing he could continue to drive the Audi's and Ferrari's common this evening. I could technically afford to own one but I've always shied away from extravagance. I leave that all to my mother.

Inside, Rey is all eyes, gazing deeply into every piece of art. It's difficult for me to concentrate on any of the paintings when she is there. Her eyes rove about until she reaches something truly spectacular, and I'm the luckiest man alive to bear witness to the scene.

On the wall located furthest into the gallery is Rey's work on display, surrounded by the largest crowd yet. It's the piece she has worked on everyday for most of the semester, the product of a deal struck between us.

It's the most mesmerizing piece here if you don't count the look on her face when she sees it.

Her hands fly up to cover her mouth in a flash, but not before I hear the air escape her parted lips. I've never seen her face allow so much emotion, but the shock of seeing her painting on display betrays her, and tears well in her eyes

"Kylo…" Rey's eyes flick over to meet mine, and then she takes in the people around us, who are noticing our touching scene. How I wish they weren't here.

However ,I can't blame them. It's difficult not to notice something as bright as Rey. "I can't believe this is real. I've never. My work doesn't belong here," she hisses. She ducks her head, knowing she said that louder than intended.

"Oh, how mistaken you are, Rey. They loved it so much, they placed it as the back centerpiece. Look how many have come to see it." I let my eyes rove over the crowd for show.

She knows I'm right because she tears up even more. It's the sight I live for.

An older fellow cuts in our conversation. I've seen him before at events like these. Biggs, they call him. An impressionist. "Overwhelmed, young lady? It truly is something else," he muses. He gives her no time to answer, as is the trend with a crowd like this one. I can't help the clenching of my teeth.

"Well, yes, I'm very overwhelmed. This is the first time someone besides Kylo has seen my artwork."

She's right. A shame, really. One I have successfully done something about. For once.

The gentleman breaks into a huge smile. "It is a pleasure Miss Niima, an absolute pleasure." He offers a hand to her, which she takes tentatively.

And that right there is how she should always be treated. With reverence.

Rey regains herself quickly enough and dives into conversation, and like that I watch the cocoon crack and out emerges a butterfly.

The one conversation snowballs into several, and soon Rey is simply answering questions as if it was interview for the press. It disgusts me how much they want to know about her personal life, but Rey is poised and well spoken. She handles the interrogation well.

They quickly discover she hasn't gone to college and is in fact a freshman in high school. After one man rudely asks if Rey is serious, I step in.

"Ms. Niima is speaking truthfully. She's my student at Bail High." I'm a familiar enough face around these parts, and my word seems to end any discussion on that topic. I still am dragged into the rest of the questionnaire. How I've influenced Rey. How I discovered her. So on and so forth.

After so long, I am finally in the spotlight for some art achievement, my mentorship, and I want nothing to do with it.

I'm happy to just stand here handing out the business cards I made for Rey. It Includes the website I spent all week perfecting and a new email for inquiries, as well as the painting itself.

This is her doing, her talent. I'm just the lucky fool who found her first. That thought leaves me on edge considering the crowd of fiendish fanatics surrounding her at the moment.

The room is putty in her hands. She works the room like a First Lady. It starts to make me anxious, but every time I feel like she isn't mine anymore, she looks to me and smiles, like she can read my thoughts and feelings. After a while she starts to make a game of winking at me or keeping her eyes following me without the person she's talking to noticing. Eventually I, unable to play along any longer, join her side again. I'd waited long enough, and she was too tempting not to be around.

"Excuse me," she cuts in. "I would like a chance to grab a refreshment and admire the works of others. Thank you for all your kind comments. Enjoy the gallery." With that she elegantly turns on her heel and weaves her arm through mine.

I should be more careful, I've just admitted she is my student. In high school. But I can't care.

Instead, I smile down at her. Her neck is long and her eyes are more brown than green this evening, but just as bottomless as ever.

I love her.

"Happy birthday, Rey."

"Kylo, it's the best thing I've ever received. Thank you. But- do you mind if we go soon? That was overwhelming."

"Of course, Rey. Shall we skip refreshments?"

She bites her lip. "Well, I don't want the night to end, but I do want to get out of here."

That throws me off. I didn't have anything for after planned but I should've realized before how the crowd would make her feel. She did wonderfully, but it must've been unpleasant all the same.

I didn't know she would want to spend additional time with me.

"How about we visit my personal studio? It's close by and it's been neglected for some time."

Her eyes brighten at that, and I take that as another victory. "Perfect."

The coat check takes longer than I'd like but I manage to remain patient and when the time comes, gracefully drape my coat over Rey's shoulders before heading to the valet.

They are quicker than the coat check, and that's a relief. I drive away in the direction of my studio several blocks away.

I fiddle with the locks that I chose for their peculiarities that only I know. Once inside, I flick on the lights and step aside to let the true light in. She takes a few a slow steps inside before smiling up at me. I can't help the grin I return, one she so genuinely pulls from my psyche.

Rey takes in the room slowly. She maneuvers the room carefully, running her finger over the surfaces she passes. It's nearly tantalizing to watch her touch my things at such a torturous pace. The only sound is our breaths and my own heartbeat ringing in my ears.

She reaches the portrait I did of her. Much like her painting in the gallery, I've reserved this portrait for the best spot on display, the back wall in the center.

She stops there and takes it in for some long moments.

That's when she turns to me and my world tilts. She's biting her lip and giving me this look. The moonlight hits her just right, framing her face like an angel, but this look conveys something else. Something devilish. I'm enraptured.

Rey pulls one of the straps down from her shoulder. Then the other, revealing bare breasts, her eyes trained on mine all the while. She's breathtakingly confident. Slow, and sensuous. Maddening.

"I want you to draw me again, Kylo. Like you did before. Like you love."

"I…" I'm at a loss for words. I can't help the tenting of my pants, and the guilt I feel when Rey drags her gaze down and hums in approval. And the pleasure too.

"I know how you feel, Kylo. I've known since the beginning and you all but screamed it when you drew that portrait of me." My heart sinks a little. So she did notice the attention I gave her, just how much it was gratifying to be that close to her, to draw her, those eyes. "And now, I want you to do it again."

"Rey-"

"I said now, Kylo. Don't make me say it again."

I gulp. It's so fucking unlike Rey that I have to listen and watch. The girl can be confident, but this is altogether different. She slips off the rest of her jumper and steps out of it. Then she struts over to my desk and grabs a pencil and a sketchbook, which she throws at my feet.

"Kneel," she orders. "I want the perspective to be from the ground."

She has placed some sort of hex on me and I am bound to her word because I do as she says.

I get on my knees and scramble to turn to a blank page, pencil at the ready. She struts over in her heels over to my desk and shoves everything off in one swoop. My possessions, that once seemed so important, clatter to the floor unceremoniously, and I could care less, but that would take too much focus from the perfect display in front of me.

Rey sprawls out on my desk, creating gorgeous perspective and compelling white space for me to study. Her muscles contort and splay wondrous shadows across her chest, stomach and thighs.

"Draw now," she barks, and just like that I am.

"Yes," is all I can manage to say.

It's like an answer to all my prayers, complete white bliss to draw Rey, like a never ending orgasm.

It elicits in me an arousal I've never known before, and each sweet line drawn does me in even more.

I'm floating I believe, scribbling furiously as to not drown. There is a binary sunset that I focus on above me, two golden irises I draw my strength from, and use them as a beacon to stay at the surface.

But I must fail because I see the surface above me now, a current muddling the sunset.

The suns descend on me, then it goes black.

I feel Rey's small hand wiping away the tears streaming down my face. I open my eyes to see she's standing before me, radiant.

"What am I going to do with you?" Her voice is barely above a whisper and it send shivers down my spine. "Kylo, you will stop crying." It's a command, not a request.

I gulp and blink a few times. She grins and nods in approval. "We have to go." She gets up and moves to put her clothes back on but pauses and turns around. She presses her heel against my chest and pushes until I'm flat on my back. I put up no resistance and she adds more and more weight until I can't breathe. I don't care. Breathing stopped being a necessity the moment she came into my life.

"You drew yourself, not me. Don't disappoint me again." She presses her heel down, but I take it, almost desire it. Then she turns, twisting the heel in, and goes to her clothes. "Get up."

I do, and immediately see what she is talking about. The portrait is chaotic as if a million men had drawn it, instead of one. Scratches and jagged lines make up her figure but it's muddled, and what's more is that my tears have added a new layer of distortion. The portrait is of her but the style, the feeling, the overlay is a reflection of my inner-self.

It etches itself into my brain, my psyche, an unforgettable sight in the mirror. Rey, dressed now, snatches the drawing up. "Let's go."

The car ride to her home is something out of a dream. I've forgotten what's reality and what's not, the line between the two just as muddled as my portrait of Rey.

Her home is as I expected- in the bad side of town, and beaten down. Admittedly, it's huge but it looks unoccupied and unloved from the outside.

I come to a stop in front of the driveway where that infamous van resides. I keep the car running even though I don't want this night to end. I also don't want to turn over the engine and wake anyone inside.

I wait for Rey to make the first move. I always will.

She turns to me and plants a chaste kiss on my lips. Her kiss is soft and intoxicating, and gone all too soon. "Goodnight, Kylo. Dream of me."

I love you. Why can't I get the words out?

"I know, I feel it too," she whispers, then gets out abruptly and makes her way around the side of the house. I watch her figure disappear behind a gate.

It's the last time for a while; Rey stops coming to school after that.

Notes: Rey's painting is "The Broken Bridge and the Dream" by Salvador Dali. Feel free to check it out if you want a feel for Rey's style.