37. Nick
NICK
I wake to a text from my brother, lighting up my screen in the dark. It’s one of the few nights Zinnia hasn’t slept over, and as I reach for my phone, the bed feels cold and empty.
I curse under my breath as I catch sight of the time. It’s not even six. He must have worked a night shift.
Marcus: Did you get the invitation?
Invitation ?
Sitting up in bed, I reach for my glasses on the nightstand, frowning as I text back.
Nick: The one Priya gave me at dinner?
Marcus: No, I sent you another one.
I scratch the back of my head, opening my email inbox, but there’s nothing there. Then I check spam, considering how infrequently Marcus and I email, but still nothing.
Nick: There’s nothing in my inbox.
Marcus: Not email. In the post, dipshit.
My frown deepens. I don’t know when he decided that calling me names like jackass and dipshit would improve our relationship, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
I reread his words with a grimace. Given how distracted I’ve been with my extra workload—and sweet, sweet Zinnia—I haven’t checked my mail in at least a week.
Nick: Hold on, I’ll check.
I tug on my sweats, flicking on the coffee machine as I pad past the kitchen, and take the stairs down to the lobby.
My mailbox is empty, save for a single, slim cream envelope.
I take the stairs two at a time back to my apartment, leaning against the counter as I open it.
It’s identical to the invitation Priya gave me at dinner weeks ago, but instead of including only my name, this one reads: Nick & Zinnia .
Another text comes through, and I glance at my phone.
Marcus: I didn’t know Zinnia’s last name, so I couldn’t include it. I know you said it was just for the summer, but she seemed cool. You should bring her.
I stare at his words, my heart drumming. Marcus remembered her name. He even went to the trouble of printing a new invitation. It plucks at something tender in my chest, that my brother would do that. That he cares enough.
But as I run my gaze across Zinnia’s name embossed in the silver lettering, my heart sinks. I’d give anything to have her there with me, to celebrate with Marcus and Priya. To show the world she’s mine.
But I can’t take a student as my date to my brother’s wedding. What if someone I know is there?
A bitter feeling twists through me as I stare at the invitation. I might have Zinnia, but only in secret. That’s all I’m allowed.
And it’s not enough. It’s not fair. She deserves so much more. We both do.
Nick: Got it, thanks.
I give a noncommittal response, leaving my phone on the counter as I change into my gym clothes. There’s no point thinking about it. It’s the best I can have, and I should be grateful I even get this. That I get to be with her at all.
But as I put myself through a punishing workout, I can’t shake the thought that I need more.
That with Zinnia, this will never be enough.
I arrive on campus hours before classes start. I’m prepped for the rest of the week, and find myself restless in my office, remembering Zinnia on my desk. In the archive room down the corridor. All these places I have to sneak time with her if I want to see her on campus.
By nine-thirty, I’ve had enough. I throw on my jacket and head out to Bobst Library, determined to distract myself with work.
There’s an obscure text I’ve been meaning to track down for my research paper, and I take the stairs to burn off some energy, locating the section I need in a quiet stack near the back corner on one of the upper floors.
I slip between the tall wooden shelves, soaking in the quiet hush, trying to calm my racing thoughts as I scan the spines.
Just as I locate the text I’m looking for, a familiar laugh drifts across the floor, and I freeze.
I’d know that laugh anywhere. It’s my favorite.
I glance up, gaze sneaking between the stacks, to a glass-walled study room on the other side of the floor.
A group of students crowds around a table, laptops open and glowing, and my eyes find Zinnia instantly.
I can’t hear a word behind the glass, but I can see her smile, how open and friendly she is with the others.
And when my gaze lands on Cole, all easy confidence as he leans close to speak to Zinnia, my gut sours.
Fucking déjà vu.
I think back to the last time I saw them studying together, the way Cole put his arm around her chair, and she shrank away. I don’t for a second believe Zinnia is interested in him, but that’s not what gets under my skin.
It’s him. His self-assurance, the way he doesn’t hesitate with her like I have to. That he can flirt, can laugh with her in public, the ease he feels in his own skin. The only person I truly feel at ease with is Zinnia, and the greatest irony of all is that I shouldn’t.
Cole emits a booming laugh, loud enough to be heard from two floors away, and when he touches her arm, bile rises in the back of my throat.
I know it’s fucked up to be watching them, but my eyes are glued to that room.
Marcus’s invitation flashes into my mind, and my fists clench.
I’d give anything to have the freedom Cole does, to touch Zinnia in public, to be by her side for all to see.
Zinnia leans away from him, shifting imperceptibly, and satisfaction snakes through me. He might want her, might have no trouble showing it, but he’s not the one who gets her. Even if I have to hide it, she’s still mine.
I want you to be my boyfriend, Nick .
Her words come back to me, making me ache with want. I’d already assumed I was her boyfriend, but hearing her declare it like that hit differently. Hit somewhere deeper.
And as I stare at her through the stacks, that same frustration boils inside me again. Wishing I could tell the world we’re together.
Pushing my glasses up my nose, I reach into my pocket to retrieve my phone. My hands shake as I cross yet another line I know I shouldn’t.
I text her.
Nick: Come to the end of the N shelves.
I watch as she pulls out her phone, her brow creasing when she reads my words.
She presses the screen to her chest and glances up, gaze scanning the library beyond the glass, but I’m tucked away at the end of a long aisle, hidden behind rows of books.
I’m not sure if she’ll do it, and my heart beats in my throat as I watch her slide her phone away and continue working.
Finally, she packs up her things, laughing lightly with the others as she does, before slipping out the study room door.
I can’t stop the smug grin that twists my lips when Cole frowns as she goes.
Fuck him.
Zinnia takes her time coming to me, weaving between the stacks, head tilted as if searching for something in particular. With each passing minute, I grow more impatient. Cole has had hours with her in there, laughing and joking around, and I need her for myself. I need her here.
Finally, she appears at the end of the aisle, casually meandering closer.
I pretend to examine the books in front of me, but I lose the battle, glancing up to drink her in as she reaches my side.
Her dark hair is loose, the tiny stud in her nose glittering.
She’s in a red dress with thick shoulder straps, the fabric gathered at the waist to emphasize her curves, with a row of buttons down the front. Buttons I desperately want to undo.
“Professor Sweetman,” she says in a low voice. “What a surprise.”
I grunt. “Figured you might need rescuing from Cole Sandford.”
She snorts a laugh. “God, he’s insufferable.”
“Why are you with him then?”
“I got invited by other people in class and didn’t know he’d be here.” She lifts her gaze skyward. “He tagged along to catch up on a class he missed.”
I grind my jaw murderously. That little shit, using Zinnia to get notes.
Her eyes move over my face, glinting with amusement. “Are you jealous?”
“Fuck yes,” I grate out, resisting the urge to touch her. She’s fucking edible in that dress. “I hate seeing you with him.”
She softens. “You know I have zero interest in Cole, right?”
“Yes, but I still hate it.” I cave, reaching out to stroke her cheek, soft under my thumb. “I hate seeing him talk to you like he knows you. Making you laugh. Being so… so… obvious about it all.”
She lets her bag slide to the floor, and when she looks back at me, there’s fire in her gaze. “He can be as obvious as he likes, but he’ll never get this.” She takes my hand, placing it on her breast, guiding my thumb over her nipple as it pebbles against the fabric.
Christ.
My blood heats, and I glance over her shoulder, along the empty aisle. This entire corner of the library is deserted. I can’t wait. Won’t wait.
Spinning Zinnia around, I press her to the stacks as I mold my front flush to her back. My cock thickens against her soft warmth, and I toss my glasses onto the shelf behind me, dragging my mouth over the hot skin of her neck.
Zinnia’s breathing quickens. “This is very bad behavior, Professor,” she whispers, pressing her ass back into me.
“I’m not the one in there flirting with Cole,” I hiss, fingers tightening on her waist.
She huffs incredulously. “I wasn’t flirting with him,” she retorts, and I know that’s true. She wasn’t. But that doesn’t stop all the frustration and anger from bubbling up inside me. Not with Zinnia. With the situation. With all the ways I’m not supposed to want her.
“He was flirting with you , though,” I say, hands roaming her curves. “Wasn’t he?”
She smirks at me over her shoulder. “Can you blame him?”