Chapter 14
Gabrielle
Physically, I was sitting in calculus, but my mind was back in my kitchen—pinned between the counter and Cal’s body, my sweater tugged halfway down one shoulder, his mouth tracing the curve of my collarbone like he was trying to memorize it.
Dr. Huber was writing something on the board—definite integrals, maybe?
I couldn’t focus.
The only function I could remember was the sharp spike of sensation when Cal had whispered, “If you keep making sounds like that, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.” My pen hovered uselessly over my notebook as heat burned in my ears.
The room was stifling, the radiators hissing like snakes beneath the windows.
I pushed my sweater sleeves to my elbows in an attempt to cool down or distract myself, but it did neither.
I propped my chin in my hand, feigning interest as Dr. Huber droned on about limits and continuity, but the numbers blurred into a tangled mess of possibilities.
Should I text him?
Would he text me?
What if everything fell apart before it even began?
I shifted my legs restlessly under the desk, crossing one ankle over the other, then uncrossing them again. I glanced at my phone, tucked discreetly between the pages of my notebook. The screen was dark.
Focus, Gabrielle.
The last twenty minutes of class trudged by to a soundtrack of marker squeaking frantically on the whiteboard, but nothing sank in.
Thankfully, Dr. Huber lectured to the board—not the class—and spoke with such a thick Cajun twang I would never have understood anyway.
Even if I had been listening. Sweat beaded along my hairline as I fidgeted in my seat.
Relieved when class was finally over, I gathered my things in a flurry.
Outside, the air was crisp against my flushed skin.
It revived me instantly, and I pulled out my phone with renewed hope.
Cal should be done teaching now, right? Would he call between classes?
I tried not to check for messages too obviously as students streamed past, scattering like particles in random motion.
I’d just reached the sidewalk when the phone buzzed in my hand. My heart leaped, only to plummet when I saw the caller ID: Aunt Suzy.
I let out a long breath and answered as I ducked into the student center and settled onto a sagging leather couch in the foyer. “Hey.”
“You never called me back yesterday!” Aunt Suzy’s shrill voice pierced through the line. “I was worried.”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to sound contrite. “I got caught up in something. Everything’s fine.”
“Oh?” she prompted, suspicion crackling like static. “So, who were you out with yesterday? A guy…?”
I could picture her perfectly—eyebrow arched, painted lips pursed, manicured fingers tapping against her phone.
“Just a friend,” I deflected.
“Aha! A friend!” She seized the word like a hawk on prey. “Anyone I should know?”
“No,” I stalled. “Just someone from my physics class.” The words felt dangerous, teetering too close to forbidden territory.
“Well, I hope that means he’s smart.”
I laughed nervously, eager to steer the conversation far from anything incriminating. “We just went over circuits for lab. Lunch and study.” My cheeks burned with guilt. It wasn’t quite a lie…
“A friend from physics?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you’re sure it’s just—”
“Yes,” I cut in, sharper than intended. I winced at how transparent I must have sounded. “We have our first lab report due Wednesday,” I explained, trying to wrap my words in a veneer of routine and academic obligation. Desperate to redirect, I asked, “How’s the start of your semester been?”
“Well,” she said with a huff, caught off guard but not entirely displeased by my change of subject. “It’s been a nightmare, to be honest. I’ve had to take on an extra class at the last minute because one of my colleagues is under investigation.”
“Investigation?” The word struck me like a cold draft.
“No one’s officially saying anything, but we all know.” She paused for effect. “Sleeping with a student,” she said pointedly, as if the scandal were a personal affront to her.
“Wow,” I said, trying to keep my tone carefully empathetic. “That sounds rough.”
“It is! Honestly, I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she went on. “I should really think about retiring.”
My stomach twisted uncomfortably, Aunt Suzy’s words hitting far too close to home. It wasn’t difficult to imagine Cal in the same situation if anyone found out about us. The thought chilled me more than the cold air blustering against the window.
“Are you…are you going to be okay?” I asked, clumsy in my attempt to sound sympathetic while swallowing down my rising dread.
“Oh, I’ll manage.” She sighed theatrically. “But it’s such an inconvenience!”
“Well, I shouldn’t keep you then. I bet you have mountains of work to do.”
“Ain’t that the truth! Just make sure you keep me in the loop about this ‘friend’ of yours,” she added, her voice coy but edged with genuine affection. “I need my drama fix.”
“I will,” I promised, smiling despite myself. As overbearing as Aunt Suzy could be, she was the only real family I had left, and I didn’t want to lose her too.
“Good! Talk soon, sweetie.” She hung up, leaving a faint echo of herself in the silence.
I checked my phone again. No new notifications. I set it down and let out a long, slow breath. The foyer buzzed with the chaos of students passing in and out, each absorbed in their own small universes.
I drummed my fingers restlessly against my thigh and closed my eyes for a moment, willing myself to be calm. We were being careful. No one would find out.
The phone buzzed in my lap like it had read my thoughts. My heart seized and then released when I saw Cal’s name on the screen.
You’ve been on my mind all morning. Not great for my electromagnetism lecture, but excellent for morale.
I stared at the message, warmth flooding through me in slow, delicious waves. The corners of my mouth lifted before I could stop them. I stared at the message as if it might vanish if I blinked. My pulse quickened, sweeping away the invasive doubts Aunt Suzy had planted.
Same here. Pretty sure I didn’t absorb anything in calculus. I couldn’t explain a definite integral if you paid me.
The response came almost immediately.
I’m flattered. Deeply concerned for your GPA. But flattered.
I laughed out loud—soft and involuntary.
A few students glanced over from the vending machines, but I didn’t care.
The release was like sunlight after a storm.
I grinned, the tension in my chest unraveling a little more.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, then tapped out a reply before I could second-guess myself.
I have a 4.0. Plenty of wiggle room.
With a spark of satisfaction, I hit send. Let him chew on that.
We can’t go tarnishing a perfect record. I’d be happy to explain definite integrals later. Privately, of course…
I’d hate to waste our time on calculus.
I held my breath, eyes fixed on the screen, and released it in a rush when his response appeared.
A tragic misuse of resources, indeed. But I thought, perhaps, it would give me a convenient pretense to see you again.
I could almost feel him there with me—the distant echo of his voice in the words, the relentless pull that made everything else fall away.
The room blurred into a backdrop of motion.
Students came and went like apparitions, their chaotic energy reduced to a whisper against the steady drumbeat of my pulse.
Since when do you need a pretense?
I don’t.
My heart tripped over itself. The words were simple but charged, sparking a thrill that coursed through me like electricity. I hesitated, biting my lip. I wanted to ask him when I could see him, but fear of seeming too eager held me back for one agonizing moment before desire broke through.
When can I expect to see you then?
I exhaled shakily and waited, the seconds stretching unbearably. Finally, the phone buzzed.
Are you free tomorrow afternoon?
He could have asked Right now? and I would’ve said yes. My pulse rushed in my ears. I tried to stifle it with deep breaths, but giddiness overtook me instead.
Yes.
I winced at the starkness of the message. It felt naked and exposed and true. Vulnerability wrapped tight around anticipation, and my thoughts spun in dizzy circles as I wondered what tomorrow might hold.
If memory serves, you don’t have afternoon classes tomorrow. I’ll plan to pick you up at your apartment at 2 p.m., if that’s convenient.
My mind whirled with infinite possibilities, each more intoxicating than the last. I could hardly contain the surge of elation that made my fingers hover impatiently over the screen.
Car or motorcycle? So I know how to dress.
His reply was swift.
Car. Weather won’t be good for the bike tomorrow. We got lucky this weekend.
I read the message twice, a flush creeping into my cheeks at the unintentional double entendre. My giddiness gave way to shyness, and I paused. I wanted to sound casual, nonchalant—but my excitement seeped into every word.
By the way…the all-black look today was a choice. A good one. Just saying.
I’m pleased you noticed. I do listen, occasionally.
My smile widened.
Is there anything you’d like me to wear?
I stared at the message a second too long before hitting send. Bold. Maybe too bold.
That’s a dangerously loaded question.
I like living on the edge.
There was a pause, and then—
The safe answer is that green jumper you wore to office hours last week. Very becoming.
My heart skipped.
And the unsafe answer?
Best saved for a time when I can whisper it in your ear.
I bit my lip, my thoughts spinning faster than I could catch them. The urge to see him—to really see him—was rising fast and bright in my chest. I had to redirect.
I’ll get my homework out of the way so I can give you my full attention tomorrow.
The reply came seconds later, like he hadn’t even paused to think.
Then I’ll be sure to give you something worth concentrating on.
My stomach flipped so hard I nearly dropped the phone. I heard the words in his voice—low, measured, velvet-edged. I curled in on myself, tucking my knees beneath me, grinning like a lunatic into the collar of my sweater.
God help me, I was in so much trouble.