33. Zinnia
ZINNIA
I can’t stop grinning for the rest of the day. Partly because of the fun Nick and I had in his office, and partly because I found two of the books he suggested, making my way through several chapters in one of them already.
I never expected to find this aspect of art history so fascinating, but the more I read, the more I think of Iris’s words. She’s right, I am passionate about this. I’d just never given myself a chance to explore it.
By the time life drawing rolls around, I’m excited to talk to Nick. I arrive early, surprised to find him waiting on the front stoop. Maybe I’m not the only one excited.
But as I approach, I catch the slump of his shoulders, the furrow in his brow. And when he glances up to see me, his lips lifting in a smile that quickly falls away, my heart plummets.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He grimaces, glancing away, and that’s when it hits me.
Something has happened at NYU.
Shit. Oh my God. It’s because of me, isn’t it?
Showing up to his office like that. Having sex with him in there.
What the hell is wrong with me? All those times I told myself I’d never let him jeopardize his work, that I respected him too much, and I went in there and undressed on the first day of the semester? Fuck.
“I’m so sorry, Nick.” My pulse spirals. “If someone saw me, or…”
“No. That’s not…” He gives me a pained look, reaching for me, then letting his hand fall. “Come inside. We need to talk.”
My gut churns with dread as he speaks the four words no one wants to hear.
I try to unlock the door, but my hands shake so much that Nick wordlessly takes the keys from me, letting us inside.
Then he motions to the sofa, and I sink onto the red velvet, trying not to think about the last time we were on here together.
Nick lowers himself beside me, and maybe I’m over-thinking it, but I’m sure he’s sitting further away than normal. His breath trickles out, long and slow, as he gathers himself.
“I received a call from the department chair after you left,” he says carefully. “Professor Webber has had a family emergency and won’t be returning for the rest of the semester.”
An icy feeling washes over me. I think back to that call she took after class, the way she fled from the lecture hall.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, eyes wide. But as I take in Nick’s posture, the way he’ll barely look at me, it doesn’t add up. I can tell there’s more to the story, and I hold my breath, waiting for the rest.
“They’ve asked me to step in as her replacement,” Nick adds, shifting uncomfortably.
Oh.
Oh .
My stomach plunges as his meaning becomes clear. He’s going to be my professor again. I’ll be his student… while we’re together.
And that can’t happen.
I suck in a breath, trying to calm my stampeding pulse. He’s ending things. Of course he is. He has no other choice, and I can’t for one second hold it against him. I won’t.
Even if it makes me want to sob.
“O-okay,” I say at last, voice trembling. “I understand. This…” I swallow, throat tight. “This is over.”
His eyes fly to mine, ringed with desperation. “No. That’s not what I’m saying.”
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head, gazing at me for a long moment, then finally shuffles closer on the sofa, taking my hands. “No, Zinnia. I don’t want this to be over. Do you?”
“No,” I whisper, blinking as emotion mists my eyes.
“Oh, honey.” He pulls me close, stroking my hair. “God. No. I can’t end this. I can’t.”
I breathe out in relief, burying my nose in Nick’s jacket, the tweed rough against my cheek. But then another realization hits me, and my heart sinks as I draw back.
“I have to drop the class,” I say. It’s the only way.
But Nick gives an adamant shake of his head. “No. I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. It’s what needs to be done.”
“ No ,” Nick repeats, more firmly this time. He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my face to his. “I’ve never seen you so lit up. You’re not dropping the class, Zinnia. It’s out of the question.”
I open and close my mouth, head swirling with confusion. “Then what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.” He tugs his glasses off to rub his eyes. “But I can’t lose you. And you can’t drop the class.”
My breath trickles out as I process this. I’ve never seen Nick so determined, so stubborn, and I can’t argue. Not when I agree with him.
“We’ll have to be careful,” he says at last.
“What does that mean?”
“We need to keep our distance on campus. No more visits to my office.” He winces. “And you should probably stay away from my apartment for a while. It’s too close to campus, and someone could see.” His eyes lift to mine, swimming with remorse. “I know it’s not ideal, but it won’t be forever.”
He’s right, but his words don’t soothe me.
If I can’t see him on campus, can’t see him at his apartment, what do we have left?
I want to point this out to him, but I can tell he’s already struggling under the weight of this new burden.
And as much as it pains me to keep my distance from him, losing him altogether would be worse.
Nick takes my hand, squeezing hard. “This doesn’t change my feelings for you,” he says hoarsely.
I open my mouth to say the same, to tell him that if anything, this only makes my feelings for him stronger, but there’s a sound at the door.
People file in for class, and Nick rises from the sofa, putting distance between us.
He doesn’t have to say it for me to know.
We can’t be seen together here, either. Not when people know he’s a professor at NYU.
I try to smile and remain positive throughout the evening, but as class wears on, I feel more and more despondent. So much so that I’m not even comforted by the smell of Gran’s pot roast when I arrive home later. Not when all I can think about is Nick.
“Good news, darling,” Gran sing-songs as I enter the kitchen. She turns from where she’s stirring a pot on the stove, grinning. “I got you a job.”
I sink into a chair, rubbing my temple. “What?”
“Well, June got you a job,” Gran corrects. “She needs someone to oversee the evening classes while she’s unwell, and since you’re already doing such a fabulous job with life drawing, she’d like you to take over the other evenings, too.”
“Oh.” Under any other circumstances, I’d be pleased. I love June and the community arts center, and love supporting the work they do there, but my mind is elsewhere tonight.
“You’ll be paid, of course,” Gran assures me, misreading my silence. “There will be more responsibility than before.”
“Of course,” I respond absently.
Gran shuffles over to touch my shoulder, the lines in her face deepening. “Everything okay, Zin?”
Guilt bleeds through me. She’s gone to all this trouble to find me a job, and instead I’m moping about Nick. About a man I’m not even supposed to be seeing.
Shaking it off, I square my shoulders and look at her. “Thanks for organizing that, Gran.” I pin on a smile. “And yes, everything is fine.”
But I don’t mean it for a second.
I’ve never been more nervous than I am on Thursday morning as I take my seat in the front row of the lecture hall. Nick hasn’t arrived yet, and my chest aches as I think about how he must feel right now, heading to take this class. My class.
I should have quit. I know he was trying to do the right thing by telling me not to, but how on earth will this work?
And more importantly, is it worth it?
Cole flops into the seat beside me with an easy grin, and I grind my molars in irritation. I’ve got enough on my plate today without dealing with him. It’s a relief when he silently pulls out his laptop, saying nothing. Maybe he can tell I’m not in the mood.
Finally, Nick enters the lecture hall, looking as handsome as always, a slim tie under his tweed jacket. The same jacket I cried into two days ago. It might have only been two days ago, but he feels further away than ever.
Especially when he glances around the room, casting his gaze across the students as they settle, not once pausing on me.
As if I could be any old student he’s never met, a nameless face in the crowd.
I tell myself not to take it personally as he addresses the class, explaining about Professor Webber and the change going forward.
“Not this guy again,” Cole mutters beside me, and I shoot him a look that could reduce him to ash.
“ Don’t ,” I hiss fiercely. His head jerks a little in surprise, and he lifts his hands, returning to his laptop.
Nick begins the lecture by handing out a revised course outline.
I watch him approach the seating, looking at each student in turn as he does.
Only when he gets to my chair, he doesn’t even glance up.
He gives Cole more attention than me, pausing briefly as he hands him the new outline, before moving along the row of people.
Then he dims the lights and brings up the first slide, and I open my laptop, trying to listen.
Trying desperately not to feel like I’m dying inside.
But the longer Nick talks, looking anywhere but in my direction, the more the doubts creep in. I thought losing Nick would be awful, but this feels worse. Having him turn away from me, pretend I’m not here. Having him so close, and not being able to touch him.
I know he doesn’t want to end this, but how will it even work? What do we have left if we can’t actually see each other?
Was staying in New York a mistake?