Chapter Five
MADISON
S tanding in the hall, I can hear the chatter from inside the faculty break room. Every inch of my body screams at me to turn and walk away. My feet bury themselves against the hard linoleum floor, my knees locked.
I don’t want to meet with teaching staff, and I especially don’t want to mingle with my fellow scholarship students. There is nothing worse than social events like these.
No. There is nothing worse than sitting in the front row of your first lecture for the year, only to discover that your professor is the insanely attractive man you had been fucking for the past week. That was definitely the worst.
But this faculty meet and greet is an easy second.
I cringe when footsteps make their way down the hall behind me. Not wanting to get stuck one on one with an overachieving creative type, I force myself to move.
Inside the tea room, the noise is overbearing. A hundred conversations float through the air and my brain muddles as it tries to focus on them all. I avoid taking pause to search the people around me. I don’t want to know if he is here.
He most likely is. I just don’t want to see him.
It was hard enough seeing Oliver this morning. Seeing Professor Fraser this morning.
We never discussed the possibility that I would be in his class. The signs were there. The copy of On Writing on his bedside table. The way his gaze lingered on the pile of textbooks on my desk. The fact he is an acclaimed non-fiction writer. But we chose to ignore them all.
I’m glad we did though. We might not have enjoyed ourselves as much if we knew the true size of the hole we were digging.
It certainly would have been nice to have a heads up before this morning though. Creative Non-Fiction was the unit I was most looking forward to in this course. The one that has potential to improve my writing and give me a chance at writing a best-selling book. I want to write what I love, a true blend between romance and travel writing. Fictional stories of people falling in love in real places. But with rejection after rejection, I need to work on the real places part of my writing skills.
Now, I dread the thought of sitting through another lecture. Not because of Oliver. Professor Fraser. But because of us. Because of what we shared. Because of how much more we could have been if the circumstances were only a little different.
The way I feel about him after only a week is stupid. I know that, but I feel it anyway. Sure, we connected on an incredibly physical level. But it was more than that. It was deeper. Like our souls were talking to one another all along.
I should have cut it off as soon as I felt myself falling, but I couldn’t. And so, I hit the bottom of the hole and then somehow fell even further. And I have no ladder to help me out of this mess.
A pit forms in my stomach, feeling somewhere between hunger and anxiety. I make my way to the refreshments, wishing I could down a shot to ease my nerves.
Soft drinks line one half of the table, the other loaded with various chips, dip and, oddly, what looks like cut up wedding cake. Pouring myself a drink, I wonder how long I need to stay. I suppose I need make my presence known to at least one faculty member before I leave.
“Hey.”
The deep, rusty voice is right by my ear, and I turn to find a young man standing far too close to me. I try to move back, but the table blocks my escape.
The man gestures to my drink with a smirk. “I have something you can add to that.”
“No, thank you.” I smile, not wanting to cause a scene as I edge my way around him.
My eyes are down as I move away through the crowd. I can’t be here anymore. The room is too crowded, too noisy. Too full of people who want to get to know me, and who I have no interest in getting to know right now. Screw finding a faculty member. I need to leave. My ears ring as I rush to the exit.
Reaching for the handle, a firm hand grasps my wrist. His touch spreads warmth up my arm, calming my racing pulse. His woody scent dazes me.
“Are you okay?” Oliver’s voice is soft, but even with the incessant noise around us, I hear it perfectly.
I nod. “I just need air.”
He doesn’t let go of my wrist as he guides me out. Walking down the hallway, he slips his hand down to mine. Our fingers intertwine as we wander. I don’t know where we are going, but Oliver does. He tugs me around corners, through doors, and eventually out of the building.
In the dim light, I can make out the basic shapes of the terrace. A tree in the far corner, a bench off to the side and an odd-shaped garden bed in the middle.
Lit only by the light shining through the window on the door, shadows hide most of its beauty.
“What is this place?”
Instead of answering, Oliver pulls me into a firm kiss. I collapse into his arms, allowing him to pull my body towards his.
His lips feel rough on mine, but when he drags his tongue along my lower lip, I open my mouth. Tilting our heads, we deepen the kiss. I savour his taste as our tongues dance together and I feel alive. My heart starts racing again, but not in the jittery, haphazard manner it was before. Now it’s sprinting.
Our foreheads rest together when we come up for air. His deep brown eyes see through mine, into my soul, and I want him to see it all.
My hands trail up his chest, toying at the buttons on his shirt. I reach around his shoulders, massaging the nape of his neck, tickling my fingers with the feeling of his buzzed hair.
“What are we going to do?” His voice drops and I catch the hint of sorrow.
Closing my eyes, I consider our options.
Today has made it very clear that we can’t stay away from each other. Neither one of us can stand being in the same room as the other without aching to reach out. But if we do, he’ll lose his job. I might lose my scholarship. Professor Dausset made that very clear when she nearly caught us earlier today. Strictly prohibited, those were the words she used.
“We hide,” I whisper. “We don’t get caught.”
I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.
Before he can, laughter erupts from the hallway. He pushes me back as the door opens.
Two girls stand, silhouetted in the doorway.
“Oh, sorry!” One of the girls calls out as she drags the other back inside.
“Sorry,” the other repeats with a laugh. She turns to her friend asking, “Where do we go now?”
The door starts to close behind them, and I release the air that had caught in my lungs.
“Do you think they saw?”
Oliver shakes his head. “It’s too dark out here, they couldn’t have seen who we are.”
Relief washes over me, and I shake my arms to release the tension.
“But it was close,” he adds. “Too close. We can’t do this Madison. No matter how much we might want to.”
I nod. My throat constricts my eyes start to sting.
Walking away, I get lost in the hall, but I refuse to turn back to him.
We had a week. And we knew it would only be that. I was foolish for even considering we could have more.