Chapter 27
EMMA
It’s been a week since I first felt his lips on mine and I can’t stop thinking about them, feeling ghosts of them on my skin every night as I drift off to sleep.
Rehearsals have been going well. Using extra clothing as a barrier seems to help with the touching problem.
I was nervous about sharing my issue with Professor A-hole, worried he would somehow use it against me, but he’s been very patient and understanding with me this past week.
I’m not sure how to feel about it. His shift in demeanor is throwing me.
Where he once was cold and distant, throwing up walls and challenging every word out of my mouth, he’s now become very encouraging, showering me with praise during rehearsal.
The teacher’s pet in me is desperate to prove myself to him. I earned this role, and I want him to believe it.
Jeremy has been very understanding as well, and I’m thankful for that.
It can’t be easy to work with an actor who recoils every time you touch them.
I’d worry for his ego, but he seems to take it in stride.
Nevertheless, I find myself complimenting him and his acting whenever I can.
I don’t want him to think my issue is any reflection on him.
Just as we’re wrapping up rehearsal, Jeremy pulls me aside in the wing. “I was thinking, maybe you and I should spend some time together outside of the theatre.”
“Like a date?” I ask nervously.
“Kinda?” He gauges my reaction. When I don’t jump at his words, he continues. “It doesn’t have to be a date, but we can treat it like one if that helps.”
“What do you mean?” I cross my arms over my chest as my heart rate picks up.
“I’m fucking this up, I’m sorry.” He rubs his forehead.
“I just meant that maybe if you got more comfortable being around me outside of the show, you wouldn’t freak out when I try to hold your hand on stage.
It was one thing when we did a scene in class, but a lot more people will see this.
People are paying money to watch us fall in love on stage, and I want it to be believable. ”
“Oh.” My nerves relax.
“If you wanted it to be a date, I’m cool with that too. You’re hot, and I would definitely enjoy spending more time with you. But at the very least, if we hung out more, maybe you would be more at ease with me on stage.”
I want to tell him how this has never worked for me in the past. So many guys in high school tried exactly what he was suggesting, but the difference was they all wanted to get in my pants, and I think my body knew that.
I’m not sure what Jeremy’s true motive is, but as long as I’m suspicious, I’ll never fully trust him and this issue will persist.
“Okay, I guess we could try,” I offer.
He smiles at me, pushing his hair out of his face. “Great! It’s a date.”
“What’s a date?” a deep voice asks from behind me.
Professor Ali stands there, hands on his hips, a scowl on his face.
I look between the two men, sweetly smiling at Jeremy, and then turning to match my professors' scowl. “Not a date,” I assure Jeremy gently, then turn to the professor and use a more assertive tone. “We’re just hanging out.”
“Outside of here?” Professor Ali clarifies, waving a hand around to indicate the stage.
“Yes, outside of here. Otherwise it would just be considered rehearsing,” I say, my tone biting. His emotional flip-flopping is messing with me, and I can’t keep up with how he feels about me on any given day.
“I’m going to grab my stuff. Meet you outside?” Jeremy places a hand on my shoulder.
My eyes lock in on where he’s touching me and I wait for a reaction that never comes. His eyes meet mine and he smiles. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
I watch as he goes when a throat clearing pulls me back into the present.
“Is this what you want?” he asks tentatively. I can see the worry on his face in the way his forehead wrinkles. Is he concerned about me?
“It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” His face hardens, his eyes narrowing on me.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I admit. I’m not interested in Jeremy like that, but if there is another person who can help me with this problem, I’m open to exploring it. I can’t wait around for my mystery man to step up and admit he wants something more with me.
“I don’t like that guy.” He takes a small step closer to me.
His presence fills the space between us, and even though we are a few feet apart, it feels like he’s inches from me.
“I’m pretty sure he’s harmless. He’s just trying to help me, which is more than I can say for anyone else in my life right now.
” My eyes lock on his, and I cringe at my confession.
Why do I feel the need to share every thought in my head when I’m around this man?
“I don’t like it.”
“You don’t like what?” Now I’m starting to get annoyed. How dare he try to tell me what to do?
“I don’t like you spending time with him.”
“Well, you don’t really have a say in that.” I cross my arms, fully prepared to tell him off. If he wants to know how I really feel about him, I’ll tell him.
“Just be careful.” It feels like a plea, and I tilt my head in confusion. “There’s more snow moving in tonight. Call me if you need anything,” he says before hurrying off.
I’m left standing there in total shock and confusion. Why would I call him? I don’t even have his number. But why does he care?
——————
“I think he likes you,” Jeremy says to me, leaning over the table conspiratorially.
A laugh bursts out of me as I quickly swallow my drink. “Warn a girl before you launch into a comedy routine. I almost covered you in iced tea.”
The cafeteria is mostly empty since it’s a Friday night and everyone has better plans than being here. Except for me. And Jeremy, apparently.
“Seriously. It makes sense when you think about it.”
“Are you delusional? How does it make sense? That man has been mean to me since the day I met him. He picks on me in class constantly, eviscerates my papers with his red pen, and trades insults with me, sometimes in Shakespeare.”
“Are you hearing yourself?” He smiles, taking a sip of his soda.
“Yeah, he hates me. What am I missing?”
“Did you ever have a boy pull on your pigtails in kindergarten?”
I laugh incredulously. “This is not that.”
“It’s exactly that, except now he’s a grown-up. Same feelings, different behaviors. He can’t pull your pigtail so he’s doing everything else you listed.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I scoff, but the seeds of doubt start taking root in my head. Is that what he’s doing? It could explain his recent change in behavior. I’m not his student anymore, and suddenly he’s nice to me.
“So about your little problem,” he says, changing the subject. “Have you found anything that helps?”
I blow out a breath, unsure of how much to share with him. It’s not like I’m giving him the cheat code to get into my pants, but it kind of feels that way. “It helps if you tell me before you touch me, so I know it’s coming.”
“Okay. I’m going to play footsie with you now.” He grins as he taps his foot against mine under the table.
His teasing is unexpected, and I laugh at his words. “Not exactly what I meant, but that works.” I push my foot back against his in jest.
“This won’t work in the show, though. I can’t be like ‘Prepare for thy touch, gentle lady.’ That would totally kill the vibes.”
“The Bard would roll over in his grave at an improv like that. We have time to practice those parts, though. I was able to hold your hand for our scene in class.”
“But we never had to kiss in class. I have a feeling that one might be harder. And I would prefer not to be slapped every time I try to plant one on you.”
“Who says I’m going to slap you?”
“Just a hunch.” He grins.
His words sound innocent, but there’s a look on his face that tells me he’s not telling me something.
“I’ll try my best to keep my hands to myself,” I say. “Besides, we could always do a stage kiss.”
“That still requires touching, even if it’s not on the lips.”
“True.”
“We could practice the kiss tonight if you want?” he says a little too eagerly.
“Actually, I need to study,” I say, deflecting.
“How about this? We finish eating and I walk you to the library, but you have to hold my hand or link arms the whole way. We can even recite our lines on the walk over if it helps.”
Relieved that he’s willing to let it go, I nod my agreement.
The trip to the library is brief but cold as the snow picks up, crunching under our boots.
I loop my hand under his elbow, resting my palm on his forearm as we walk to the library.
It’s not terrible and I don’t have the urge to cause him bodily harm, so I’m calling it a win.
When we arrive at the steps to the building, he releases me, dropping into an exaggerated bow.
“I must bid you adieu, m’lady.”
His goofiness makes me laugh, and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this could work. If I think of him like Ethan or Alyx, I could get through most of the touching. I’m just not sure how to navigate the kissing part.
——————
Nearly two hours later, I’m standing on the library steps, the snow really coming down.
Student apartments are a ten-minute walk from here, and I pull my scarf tighter to protect myself from the cold.
As I walk, I replay Jeremy’s words in my head.
Is Professor Ali into me, or does he just find me attractive? Maybe it’s all in my head?
There is one way to find out. I pull off my glove and swipe open my phone, pulling up the syllabus in the class portal.
This is crazy. I should just walk home and go to bed. But the thought gnaws at me. Could Jeremy be on to something?
Before I can change my mind, I dial his office number. It rings once before he answers it.
“Miss Black?”
“Um, how did you know it was me?”
“Lucky guess,” he says, and I swear I can hear the hint of the smile in his voice.
“This is really embarrassing.”
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his mood shifting quickly.
“I was walking home from the library, and it looks like the path to student apartments hasn’t been shoveled yet, and I think I twisted my ankle walking in the snow. I know there are some crutches in the prop closet, could you maybe—”
“Where are you?” he asks, cutting me off.
“At the beginning of the path behind the stadium, close to the theatre parking lot.”
“I’ll be right there,” he says and then the call ends.
Minutes later and much faster than I expect, I hear footsteps approaching quickly, and I turn my head to see him running toward me, no crutches in sight.
“You couldn’t find them?” I ask.
“What?” He pants, out of breath.
“The crutches.”
“Didn’t have time. I came straight here from my office. That would have taken too long.”
“How am I going to get home?”
“Shit.” He puts his hands on his hips. “It’s really coming down. It’s probably not safe to use them anyway.”
He stares down at me as the snow falls around us. It’s unusually silent, making my racing heart sound louder in my ears.
With all the snow and the few lights on campus, it’s surprisingly bright enough to make out all his features.
His amber-brown eyes are intense as they search mine.
Is this real? Is he interested? I’ve only had this rush of feelings for one other person.
I momentarily wish I wasn’t wearing a hat so he could tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
I can feel my cheeks heat at that thought, and I drop my head in embarrassment.
He reaches out his hand, gently crooking a finger under my chin to tilt my head up to look at him. “Are you hurt?”
I absentmindedly rub at the ache in my chest at his words.
“Wh–what?” I stutter, refusing to look away.
“Your ankle.” He breaks eye contact to look down at my boot.
“A little,” I lie.
“I’ll carry you, if that’s okay?” he asks cautiously.
I nod, feeling like this must be a dream.
“I’d feel better if I could get your verbal agreement,” he says, smirking.
“Yes, you can carry me.”
Then he slides his big arms under my back and knees, picking me up bridal-style as I wrap my arms around his neck. He moves slowly along the path, and my body jostles with each step he takes.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he continues staring ahead.
I look up at him. “Better now.” My voice is a whisper.
He tilts his head toward mine as he slows his pace. Our faces are inches apart as he speaks. “I’m glad you called.”
Not sure how to respond, I place my head against his neck and focus on my breathing. In and out. Each inhale smelling of woods, falling snow, and something else familiar that I can’t place.
“I’ve got you,” his voice soothes as he pulls me tighter against him. The path back to my apartment isn’t long, and I don’t want this to end.
There’s something about the way he’s carrying me. Something comforting about the way his arms feel holding me. And for once I don’t think about my hang-ups, instead focusing on the way I feel cradled safely in his arms.
——————
When I leave for class the next morning, I open the door to my bedroom and a piece of paper flaps from the motion. Was someone in the apartment?
“Hello?” I call out, but there’s no answer.
I can see that my roommate’s door is open, which only happens when she’s gone.
Looking around my room for a weapon, I grab a dictionary and hold it in two hands like it’s a bat, swinging it wildly each time I turn a corner in the apartment.
When I’m satisfied that I’m alone, I walk back to my room, drop the book, and tear the paper off the door.
Emma,
I better not see you touch that fucker again. No one touches you but me. You belong to me.
Yours
I drop the letter like it’s on fire. This one is nothing like the others.
Even the handwriting looks off, the pen strokes hard and angry.
Whoever is leaving these is getting bolder, breaking into my apartment to make sure I see them.
I should call campus security, but I don’t know what this person is capable of.
Up until now the letters had been sweet, but this one makes it clear I have no idea who I’m dealing with.