Chapter Fourteen
MADISON
I feel like a coward. I guess I am, hiding away in my corner of the library when I’m supposed to be in class. It puts my scholarship at risk, but the alternative was facing Professor Fraser. And I can’t bring myself to do that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
I want to forget about the week we spent together, and the short-lived dream that we could make our relationship work. I never want to remember how much it hurt when I realised it wouldn’t. Mostly, I want to forget about how he looked when his knees dropped, begging me not to leave.
It took everything I had not to give in. I’m proud of myself for holding my ground and walking away. I deserve to be more than someone’s secret. And although it hurts like a bitch now, I’m proud that I stood up for myself.
For the first time in my life, I was the one to walk away. I relied on myself.
I’m just going to hide and cry about it for a few days, that’s all.
The words I’m trying to read blur, but it’s not the start of a migraine this time. My eyes well up as I try to read On Writing . Knowing it’s Oliver’s favourite book makes it so much harder to read. I thought using this time to prepare for the next assignment would make me feel better about not being in class. It hasn’t.
If anything, it’s made me feel worse.
A wet splodge appears on the pages under me, and I give up. Closing the book, I allow the tears to fall.
Crying, alone in the library. It sucks. And I’ve done it twice now.
What a wonderful start to the year. To my degree.
I want my sister. Pulling out my phone and punching in her number, I hesitate before pressing call. Remembering that she left me to handle university alone is like another boot to the gut. My thumb hits the button before I can overthink calling her.
“Madison!” Her voice is robotic over the phone but comforting all the same.
“Hey.”
“Oh God Mads, it’s the professor, isn’t it?”
I love how she knows me so well. How I never have to tell her what’s going on or how I’m feeling. Being so close in age, our almost-twin status drew us closer than any other siblings I know.
“Did he—”
“No Cass, I did.” I gasp for air, holding back the sobs forming in my throat. “I walked away because I didn’t want to have to hide.”
“Oh Mads, I’m sorry.”
Her silence comforts me, lets me process a fraction of the aching I feel all over.
“I’m proud of you.”
“Me too.”
From towards the entrance, the sound of books falling jolts me out of my bubble.
“Cass, I love you. I’ll call you later?”
“I love you too.”
Hanging up the phone, I cast my gaze over my limited view of the library. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but librarians hush in vain at whoever caused the commotion. The library is no longer quiet. It hadn’t been busy, but there were enough students floating around that quiet, gossip-like chatter starts to spread.
“He is too hot for a professor.”
“Normally, sure, but why does he look so frantic?”
“What is he doing?”
The voices from the aisle adjacent to where I’m sitting catch my attention. Surely, they can’t be talking about Professor Fraser? He should be teaching. He should be running the class I’m intentionally skipping. He should not be in the library. Looking frantic.
A tiny bead of light sparks in my chest. I refuse to let it grow. Hope is unreliable. Unstable, never constant. Always disappointing. No matter how hard I try, I can’t turn off its light.
“Professor Fraser, are you okay?” Her piercing voice cuts through the chatter, putting the hushing of the librarians to shame. Silence spreads through the library.
“Not now.”
His voice fuels the spark I was trying to put out. The power surges through me, causing me to stand. He steps around the corner looking like he has been running. His hair is dishevelled and he pants as he skids to a stop.
“Oliver?”
“Madison.” My name is a mere whisper on his lips.
“How did you find me?”
He pulls his shoulders to his ears, holding his shrug before letting them drop.
“I had a hunch.”
This isn’t fair. I wanted to get away from him, not make him come find me. His eyes look bloodshot, a deep maroon instead of their usual chocolate brown. He looks how I feel. Heartbroken and worn down.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispers the words as he steps towards me. They melt into the flame in my chest.
“We can’t do this here.”
Arms folded, Professor Dausset watches us from the aisle. Her eyebrows reach her hairline as Oliver takes another step towards me.
“We can.”
My arms drop to my sides as Oliver steps around the table. His hands find my shoulders and he spins me to face him.
“I love you,” he says, “and we can.”
Time stops.
Our foreheads touch first, a tender, gentle whisper of a touch. Then his mouth finds mine and the tiny spark bursts into fireworks. Oliver gives everything in this kiss, and I feel every piece of longing, of trust, of desperation that he gives me. My arms wrap around him. His hands creep their way into my hair.
Tilting my head, he deepens the kiss, running his tongue along my lips. Opening my mouth, we become more frenzied as we claim each other. As we make our love known. To everyone.
A shrill cough interrupts us. “Professor Fraser!”
Thin, wrinkled hands pull mine off Oliver. They pull me back until the distance between us too great and it hurts all over again. I can see the look in everyone’s eyes and the reality of what we just did rings in my ears. Oliver’s eyes don’t move from mine.
“I’m sorry.” I mouth the words but he shakes his head with a smile.
“Professor Fraser.” Dausset steps between us, facing Oliver with her hands on her hips. “As you are well aware this type of behaviour is grossly inappropriate. I cannot ignore what you have done here.”
“I don’t care. I love her.”
My mouth drops at his words.
“That is irrelevant. As a professor at this university, you are bound by the moral obligations as laid out in your contract.”
“Then I quit.”
“Excuse me?” Her already high voice reaches another octave.
What? He quits?
“I quit.” He repeats, stepping around his former boss to hold my hand.
“You can’t quit because of me.” Ignoring all the bystanders, I turn to Oliver. His hand squeezes mine, tugging me towards him.
“I’m not quitting because of you.” He steps closer, so our bodies are pressed together. “I’m quitting because of us.”
My nose wrinkles, not quite understanding the difference between the two.
“You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not just your looks, but your soul. You are inquisitive and generous, and you care about things most people don’t. I don’t know when it happened, but a little piece of my heart latched onto your soul. But you? I’m not quitting for you. I should be keeping my job for you. So I can keep acting as your advisor and help you become the writer you’re destined to be.”
He pulls me in, somehow even closer now, until our whole bodies are pressed together. My feet in between his, I can feel the inside of his legs against my own. Our chests rise and fall in sync, and our noses touch.
It feels like home, here in the library surrounded by the books we both love. I don’t care about the students and staff members gawking at us. I don’t care that our words aren’t private. Because I know that he is saying them for me.
“I’m quitting because of us.” Oliver clarifies again, planting a firm kiss on my lips. “I’m quitting because despite all of that, I know we are destined to be together. And I can’t wait four years for that. I don’t want to wait another minute before the world knows that you’re mine. That I’m yours. I love you so deeply it hurts to think that we almost never were.
“I should have been the happiest man on the planet, winning all that money. But I wasn’t, I was miserable. Until you blasted your way into my life like a shooting star. You lit up my darkest moments and I will do anything, everything, to prove to you that we are more important than a job.”
Every admission works to fill the hole in my heart that, moments ago, was only growing larger.
“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realise how important you are. How important we are. It kills me that I hurt you. That I became another person that you thought you couldn’t rely on. But I’m here to tell you that you can rely on me. Today, tomorrow, forever.”
My heels rise from the floor. Stretching up on my toes, I kiss him.
“It was never your fault,” I tell him. “I should never have acted like it was.”
I tilt my head, encouraging him to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against mine and tingles spread through my entire body. Heat rises from my core and I can feel his length hardening against my stomach.
“I love you.” I pull away just enough to whisper into his mouth. “Please, take me home.”