Chapter Eight
Evelyn
The weather forecast said light rain. I remember because the woman smiled, her red lips cracking open like a door as she said the words just a little drizzle. But this, this is a torrential fucking storm. I’m drenched the minute I step outside my dorm building, and by the time I make it to the humanities building, I’m dripping water onto the floor like a storm cloud turned human.
And I’m late. Perfect.
I also didn’t dress for this downpour, pulling on my yoga pants and shirt without a thought. I curse the world as my feet hit the ground, the wet slaps echoing on the stone floor. When I reach his room, I don’t even pause before pushing through the doors, silently drifting through the class as a hundred eyes turn to me, watching as I run to my desk. I send Asher a mouthed apology and he nods, his eyes softening as he continues his discussion.
We haven’t spoken since that almost kiss that confirmed everything that’s been sitting between us.
I let out a breath and settle in, letting Asher’s dark voice seep through me like warm water. He’s discussing the gothic revival, one of my favourite artistic architectural movements, and the passion, the love he speaks with sends my stomach scattering. There’s nothing covertly sexual about it, but as I listen, everything in me clenches in need, my pussy flooding with the desire I’m unable to control.
“Think of CSU.” His voice echoes as he points to the lecture hall, we’re sitting in. “This place was built with the gothic revival in mind. Can anyone tell me how?” He looks around, daring a student to answer. The female populace of the class hangs onto his every word, fluttering their eyelashes and biting their lips as they blush at him.
I can’t blame them, I’m the exact same, but that doesn’t stop the jealousy from spiking through me.
A girl at the front speaks, biting her lip at Asher with intent. “The windows?”
Asher smiles. “Exactly! Tell me how.”
She beams, encouraged by him. “The way they arch?”
He nods. “The way they arch, the carved perfection of their form, the stained-glass. It’s all key to the gothic.”
The girl sits back in her seat, her cheeks blushing. Yep, same girl.
“Does anyone know what the inspiration was? Why gothic revival?”
No one speaks, and after a second, I decide it’s safe to slip in, to share my knowledge. “The Gothic movement was a product of France.” I say standing, and Asher grins, stepping back to let me take over. My heart throbs, at the trust he has in me, at the belief. “But our buildings are mostly influenced by the revival movement that began in England which, aesthetically, differs very little. But architectural intention is important and the intension with gothic revival was to spread the Christian reawakening.”
The appraisal in Asher’s eyes, shining like dandelions in a field, burns through me. “Exactly.” He grins.
I sit back down as Asher spills more knowledge on the movement, content to listen. I’ve never met another person who shares my passion for art and the history behind it. But I can see it in Asher. I can see it in the way he speaks, the way he sparkles, the excitement, the enjoyment like looking in a mirror to find your perfect half staring back.
I shake my head and push away the ridiculous thought. Asher, my professor, is not my perfect half, that’s just the desire talking.
Soon enough, the hour has passed in a blur of Asher and art, the two things that seem to consume my every waking thought.
“I want everyone to find their favourite piece of gothic architecture from either the original or the revival and be prepared to name it next week.” Asher says, dismissing the class. “And remember to get you’re affairs in order for the gallery visit in a few weeks’ time.”
I stand and out of the corner of my eye, I see Jake approach. I silently curse and beg for him to pass me by without stopping but I’m never that lucky.
“Hey Evelyn.” Jake grins.
I smile. “Hey Jake.” He’s been asking me out practically weekly since the night I danced with him at the club and every time I’ve said no. The hair on the back of my neck rises and I know, without looking, that Asher’s eyes are on us, his attention divided between me, and whichever girl is trying to flirt with him today.
“Look, I know you’re preparing to turn me down already but hear me out.”
“Okay …” I say, elongating the word.
Jake rubs a hand through his hair. “I have a reservation at Giuseppe’s—”
“The fancy Italian?”
He nods. “And I would really, really like to take you. No pressure for it to be anything more or less. Just give me one chance and if you never want to see me again, I’ll accept that.”
I hesitate, my heart pulling towards Asher. I don’t want to go, everything in me revolts at the idea, but that’s exactly the reason I need to go. Jake is just the kind of distraction I need and if he’s serious about there being no expectations then …
“No expectations? You promise?” I question and he nods eagerly. “Okay.” I smile. “You’ve got a deal.”
His grin widens and he pulls me into a hug, my body fitting rigidly against his. “You won’t regret this.” He pulls back, sending me another flash of his teeth. “I’ll pick you up on Wednesday, at 6:30.”
“Sounds good.” I say, just as a towering presence appears at my side.
“Hey Professor.”
Jake nods to Asher, smiling steadily but Asher doesn’t reciprocate. Instead, his eyes narrow, the green shining like emeralds, hard and unyielding and with a quiet fury flickering within.
“Jake, on your way, I need to speak to my TA.” Asher clips, his voice hard. Jake mouths a good luck as Asher turns towards me. “I need to see you in my office. Now. Go ahead and I’ll meet you there.” He commands and turns before I can object, before I can question, and I’m left wondering what in the world is going on.