Chapter 32 Malena
Malena
Thursday afternoon, a day after getting back from Paris, I felt invincible.
I sat in the newsroom and basked in the quiet. Now that the MCATs were behind me, I was focusing on some of the work I’d put on the back burner. Today, that meant prepping my notes for my advanced biochem lab practical.
Conrad dropped me off before heading to his family’s house in Manhattan, where he’d spend the last bit of fall break.
Since Cora wouldn’t be back till Sunday, I spent last night alone, recharging my social battery and letting pride fill me at the step I’d taken in the right direction.
It was different to sneaking out for a party in high school or even toeing the line of normal life here in college.
I’d finally done something real for myself.
My parents would never know, but still, it was a step.
“I got back to campus early. The building was open, so I figured I’d get some work done.” I looked around, and it hit me that I’d never actually asked if I could use the room. “That’s okay, right?”
“Yeah. Of course,” he assured me. “While I have you, have you given any thought to that writing seminar over the summer? You were recommended for it.”
I chewed on my lip. There was no harm in getting more information… Maybe I’d fill out the interest form anyway. I’d have to figure out how to schedule it around my planned internship with the NY Lightning’s medical team, but it was possible. “Still figuring that out…”
He nodded. “Great. And how’s your feature?”
“Good, I got plenty of material for the ‘meritocracy is a sham’ angle.” I figured it was best to keep my suspicions quiet until I knew more. Especially since he was averse to the idea when I first pitched it. “I saw a couple parties, got some interesting lore.”
“Oh.” His eyes brightened. “That’s all?”
I paused. “I thought it was pretty interesting…”
“It is. That sounds great, piercing. Definitely the kind of thing the Keller Award committee looks for,” he insisted.
“If you have some time…” He knocked on my desk a couple of times, his head tilted up in thought before he walked over to his own desk.
“I need that piece on the Astor donation proofed.”
I stood and walked over, glancing at his screen from the other side of his desk.
“No need,” Conrad answered from the doorway. “It’s done.”
“What?” Dillian and I said in unison, turning toward the door.
In a dark blue quilted jacket with one of those distracting crew neck sweaters underneath, Conrad walked into the newsroom, a boyish grin on his face that made my stomach flip.
He never came to the paper.
“Yeah, I got that email asking for a volunteer too,” Conrad drawled sarcastically. He pointed to Dillian’s computer and ran his hand up my back before resting it right above the curve of my ass. “Turns out, I can read.”
“Oh…” Dillian stammered, clicking around on his desktop. “It’s…” He looked up at the two of us incredulously. “Thank you.”
Conrad stroked his fingers back and forth, pushing electricity up and down my spine. Keeping a perfectly straight face and his attention squarely on Dillian, the corner of his mouth quirked.
“Need anything else?” he asked.
“No…” Dillian rubbed his forehead.
I turned, taking a few steps to my desk, and Conrad followed. Once we were out of earshot, his fingers curled around my elbow. “Can I talk to you?” His breath skated down the nape of my neck. “Privately.”
All thoughts about finishing my lab practical notes evaporated as I followed Conrad out.
“You’re back early.” Curiosity skittered along my arm and his hand slid down my back as he led me through the stone corridor.
“I had some work to catch up on.” He stared straight ahead.
“Like the piece Dillian wanted proofread?”
“There’s this cute girl at the paper,” he explained. “I’m trying to impress her.”
I looked up at him inquisitively. “By catching typos?”
“Go easy on me.” An adorable nervous laugh rumbled up his chest as he pushed the doors to the old building wide open. “I’m new at this.”
The piney scent of the cool fall day filled my lungs and before I knew it, his heavy coat was being draped around my shoulders. We walked down the steps, and he led me to the side of them.
“I don’t grade on curves, I ruin them,” I said, sidestepping his mention of “this,” seeing as we hadn’t discussed any labels formally. I looked around, wondering why I was here. “And… you needed to tell me that outside?”
His eyes glimmered in the afternoon sun.
At first, I thought it was easy to be around him because he was so carefree and that it’d rubbed off on me. In actuality, I was realizing it was how he looked at me when I was unabashedly myself. It was always with this wonder or curiosity—like all he wanted was to know more.
Never with expectation or judgment. It was refreshing.
“No.” With his eyes glued to mine and his hand smoothing over my hips, he backed me up against the cool gray stone. “I needed to do this.”
He dropped his lips to mine and pulled me into a slow kiss. Like sipping a spiked hot chocolate, it was warm and intoxicating. A few ivy leaves brushed against my skin, and I closed my eyes, sinking into the feeling.
“You look so fucking good in these.” His hands spanned over my soft leggings, gripping my thighs, and need flourished between my legs.
He pulled away and pressed a few pecks along my chin and one on my collar. My teeth scraped over my lower lip, and I tipped my head back.
“Con…” I warned.
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait.” He kept going, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind as he kissed down my neck. “But I figured you didn’t want Dillian to see me feel you up.”
His navy wool coat smelled like him, fresh and woodsy and something uniquely Conrad. The rich silk lining brushed against my skin and the length of it provided cover now that my leg was all but swung over his waist.
“We should probably take this inside.” My fingers played with a button on his sweater’s collar.
“One more.” He leaned back in and his lips connected with mine.
Another shot of adrenaline pushed through my veins.
It wasn’t until the sound of someone clearing their throat cut through the tension that we stopped. In a puffer jacket with a pantsuit underneath, President Packham crossed her arms, her mouth arched down.
I took a sharp inhale, then pushed Conrad back a step. “Ummm…”
My brain, foggy from the kiss and completely suffocated under the weight of President Packham’s stare, refused to form words.
“Let’s try to keep these spaces reserved for more appropriate activities.” She looked directly at Conrad, sparing me the humiliation.
“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.
She didn’t say anything else, just shook her head and walked past.
“We should take this inside,” Conrad whispered in my ear, unfazed and playful.
I was frozen. While it might not be a big deal for him, I had to be cautious.
“Hey.” Conrad put both hands on my shoulders, dipping his head down and trying to catch my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay.” My cheeks warmed.
What could I say? My mommy and daddy don’t let me talk to boys, and President Packham knows them, so that’s why I’m nervous that we got caught? It was ridiculous, but the fact remained that the whole situation left me embarrassed and feeling like a child.
I hadn’t told him about my parents because I enjoyed the illusion of independence that simply being around him offered.
He was allowed to have this full and interesting life, and I had to do that from the confines of the cage I was occasionally able to sneak out of.
How did you explain that to someone who had all the freedom in the world?
It would be like explaining air to a fish.
“I may have given you an impression about my taste for public displays in Paris,” I added.
For those blissful days across the pond, reality had ceased to exist. I’d enjoyed not having to be two versions of the same person, but it was proving to be a high that preceded one hell of a comedown.
His warm smile chased away the uneasiness. His fingers pressed against my hips a little tighter, but he kept the space between us. “You’re a moving target, Mal.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be, I’m having fun keeping up.” He dropped a chaste kiss on my lips before pulling away. “I’ll keep my hands to myself around faculty.”
“Thanks.” I curled my fingers around his sweater. “Let’s go back to your place.”