4. Vincent
Chapter 4
Vincent
“ A re you all right, Vincent?”
I blinked in surprise and glanced up, dragging myself out of my reverie. Dean Franklin Wilcox raised his eyebrows expectantly, awaiting my answer. He had been the Dean of East Regent University for thirty-five years, overseeing the school with a fair hand, sharp judgment, and very little tolerance for rule breaking.
The memory of that kiss with Elle burned like a beacon in my memory. Technically, I reasoned, I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.
Except for the pesky little detail that I’d kissed her back. And wanted more.
So much more.
Ever since I watched her ride away in the cab this morning, I’d been haunted by that moment between us. The electric shock of her lips meeting mine. The raw desperation and hunger as she swayed into me. Her sweet taste that lingered long after she was gone.
Pasting on a polite smile, I prodded at my dinner, though my appetite remained non-existent. The steak was thick and juicy, the wine was rich and deliciously tart, but it seemed bland to me.
Simpering fool , I thought.
Why was I so obsessed with that damned kiss and a girl twenty years younger than me? Why couldn’t I stop thinking about her? I knew it didn’t mean anything. Elle had been upset, hungover, and probably lonely as hell. It sounded like her relationship with her family was rocky.
She was desperate, looking for love in all the wrong places.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “I…didn’t sleep well.”
My stomach twisted at the lie. I could only hope it would be convincing enough that Wilcox wouldn’t dig any deeper. He had the uncanny ability to sniff out bullshit a mile away.
“Is there anything on your mind?” Wilcox asked. “Anything you might like to share with the class?” he added with a note of humor in his voice.
I gestured to the dinner spread between us. The French Pearl was one of the best upscale restaurants in Port Crowne, Massachusetts. This meal had to cost a small fortune, and Wilcox had insisted on buying, despite my protests that I would be happy to split the bill.
“Why did you bring me here, Franklin? I appreciate the invitation, of course, and we’ve always been amiable towards each other, but this seems…personal.”
Wilcox shrugged and sipped his wine.
“I’m getting older and whispers of my retirement are becoming more common. I’m turning seventy next year, if you can believe that. Overseeing East Regent is not for the faint of heart, and I would hope my successor loved the school as much as I did.”
“You’re still sharp as a tack,” I pointed out.
“True as that may be, I’ve developed a list of potential candidates to take my place as Dean when I step down. I’d like to put in a good word for you to the faculty council.”
My breath caught in my throat as the implication of what Wilcox was about to say sank in.
“Is my name on your list?”
“If you want it to be.”
I stared down at my plate, the food barely touched. I had only ever dreamed of becoming a professor. Sharing my love of literature with students who were eager to soak up knowledge the way I was. Taking on Wilcox’s role would be big shoes to fill.
And there was the matter of Elle Roche. If I became Dean of the university, I absolutely could not be thinking about kissing her anymore. No matter how much I might want to.
“I’ve known you since your student days, Vincent,” Wilcox continued. “It’s clear that you love this university, dedicating your life to the values of higher education. I don’t make this proposal lightly. If you’re not interested, tell me now and I’ll never speak of it again.”
Why did I hesitate? Shouldn’t I leap at this opportunity? It was an honor for Franklin Wilcox to personally recommend me for the position.
Deep down though, I knew why I faltered.
That kiss had tainted me.
I felt guilty for it. And I couldn’t stop myself from aching for more. Thoughts of Elle filled my head all day long until I couldn’t focus on a damn thing.
And here was Dean Franklin Wilcox—an esteemed and respected member of the university—with the promotion of a lifetime on a silver platter.
I didn’t deserve it. Not after kissing Elle. Not after fantasizing about her even though I knew it was wrong on every level. She was too young for me. She was my student. And she was hungover, vulnerable, lonely.
But if I didn’t accept Wilcox’s offer, I would likely never get this chance again.
“It would be an honor, Franklin,” I replied.
As we shook hands, I resolved to put all thoughts of Elle Roche firmly out of my mind. For good.
***
The first test of my resolution came with my next class. I knew Elle would be there. I knew seeing her would stir up the memory of that kiss all over again. As students began to file into the room, I blew out a breath to compose myself.
I was a grown man, nearly fifty years old and fully capable of self-control. If I wanted to keep my job—and potentially a shot at becoming the Dean of this school one day—I wouldn’t allow myself to fall to pieces over one little kiss that wasn’t supposed to happen in the first place.
The classroom was nearly full by now. I scanned the faces, cursing myself for hoping to catch a glimpse of her.
Nothing.
I glanced at the clock—time to get started.
Where was Elle?
I shook my head. It didn’t matter whether she was here or not. I couldn’t afford to care.
One week dragged into another. I still caught myself searching every class for signs of Elle and finding her absent.
I’ll be dropping your class after this. Won’t be able to look you in the eye.
“Damn it,” I sighed.
Elle was probably too embarrassed to attend my class now. Ultimately, it was her decision whether she dropped out or not, but it was a shame to think her education suffered because of it.
In my office after class, I pulled up my email, weighing whether or not it was appropriate to write to her. The cursor blinked on the blank email. One minute ticked by. Then another.
A professor of literature, at a loss for words. The irony was astounding.
I closed the email while defeat nagged at me. I wasn’t the type to give up so easily. But maybe it was better this way. Keeping distance between us would be in our best interests.
“With Fall break just around the corner,” I announced to my class. “I like to loosen the reins a bit for you. I want to hear about the poet or author who has inspired you this semester. Can I get a volunteer to read a passage for us?”
I scanned the room. At this point, I wasn’t looking for Elle anymore. Three weeks had passed with no sign of her. That seemed proof enough that she had moved on.
One student raised his hand. I settled into my desk and gestured for him to come down.
“The floor is yours, sir.”
He cleared his throat and brought a battered, leather bound copy of poetry to the front of the room. As he began to read, my gaze strayed over the students, watching how they reacted to the passage. I recognized the work of Keats almost right away.
But rather, if her eyes could brighter be,
With brighter eyes and slow amenity,
Put her new lips to his, and give afresh
The life she had so tangled in her mesh…
A figure emerged at the back of the room, swathed in a heavy burgundy coat as she slid into a vacant seat. A baseball cap was pulled low over her eyes, and she slouched in her chair so low that I almost missed her.
Happy in beauty, life, and love, and every thing,
A song of love, too sweet for earthly lyres,
While, like held breath, the stars drew in their panting fires.
When she lifted her head just enough to get a glimpse of her face, the words faded as familiarity washed over me.
Elle. She was here.
Fuck.
My throat went dry and my chest tightened. I clenched my fists, fighting to remain focused on the class. And this damned poetry wasn’t helping. Talking about bright eyes and kissing and the lives of lovers tangled together.
When the class was finally over, I fully expected Elle to fly out the door. Instead, she stayed in her seat until the last student filed out and we were alone.
Dangerously, wonderfully alone.
I leaned back against my desk and tucked my hands into my pockets.
“You dropped my class, didn’t you?”
Elle shrugged and propped her feet on the seat back in front of her.
“Wounded pride makes you do stupid things.”
“If every college student dropped out of their classes over wounded pride, these halls would be empty,” I countered.
She shifted in her seat and glanced down, studying the toes of her boots.
“Why do you do that?”
“What?”
“Give me the benefit of the doubt,” she replied. “I wish you would just…rip into me and tell me what a moron I was.”
I ran a hand through my hair and took a step forward, but I stopped at the stairs that led up into the rows of desks. She was not entirely to blame for the situation between us, since I had kissed her back. But had she noticed? And if I pointed it out, would that only encourage her to pursue me with the belief we had an intimate connection?
“Would you feel better if I scolded you for your actions when you are already perfectly well aware of how detrimental they were?” I offered.
Elle groaned and dropped her head back.
“See? You’re so…patient. And logical. It’s infuriating.”
“It’s not my job to punish you, Miss Roche,” I said.
She fiddled with her sleeves, shrinking into herself. Maybe a change of subject would help. That kiss was obviously eating her alive. She needed to focus on school again.
“What are you studying?” I asked.
“Business admin,” she muttered with all the enthusiasm of a wet blanket.
I frowned, confused.
“So, what are you doing in my class?”
She shrugged, plucking at a stray thread on her sleeve.
“I just…like it, that’s all. I get decent grades. It’s the only class that I’m not flunking.”
There it was again. Dropping hints that she was burdened with suffocating expectations.
“Why don’t you change your major?” I suggested.
She snorted a dry laugh.
“I would be branded an embarrassment to the family name if I did that.”
“No one can dictate what you do with your life, Miss Roche. Only you.”
Elle shook her head.
“You don’t get it.”
I spread my hands.
“Then help me understand.”
She stared at me like a cornered wild animal. A split second later, she ducked out the door and disappeared without a word. I released a breath of frustration and slumped back against my desk.
So close, and yet so far away.