5. Chapter 4
NATHAN
“Yes, of course, Linda.” My wife chuckled into her cocktail, addressing my mother. I glanced at her, grateful it was finally the weekend.
She looked gorgeous, blonde hair pinned neatly into a bun, her black dress hugging her just right. Her chest looked amazing. My fork stalled halfway to my mouth.
She caught me staring and nudged me lightly.
“Creep,” she teased, giving me that wide-eyed look she used when she was hungry for something more than dinner.
Except there was something calculated in it tonight, a flash of performance before she sipped her drink.
My parents were chatting amongst themselves before my mother turned the conversation back to us. She’d insisted on dinner tonight; she adored my wife.
“So, Nathaniel, how’s work?”
I bit down on my medium-rare steak a moment longer, letting the slow grind of my teeth stand in for the answer I wanted to give. Cursing inwardly, I kept my gaze on the plate. My wife and I had only just managed to drop this subject at home.
I opened my mouth to answer, but Lilly beat me to it with a sardonic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“He loves it. Comes home at eleven most nights.”
My grip on the steak knife tightened. This again? My jaw locked around the words I wanted to say.
Her smile didn’t match the wrath in her gaze, the tension between us crackled, invisible but unmistakable. I thought we’d left this issue at home.
“Yes,” I said pointedly, looking at Lilly over the rim of my glass, “I have office hours that keep me later than usual.”
“Office hours for well over an hour with the same student for the last week,” she added, her voice carrying just enough edge for my parents to notice.
“Is that true?” my father asked, brows knitting.
“And he always walks them home,” Lilly continued.
“Nathan,” my father sighed, “you need to set boundaries. This young lady may be trying to court you.”
“Dad.” I raised a hand, keeping my tone controlled. I didn’t appreciate Lilly airing this out in front of my parents, whom I hadn’t seen in six months. Passive-aggressive remarks at home were one thing. But here? Now? Absolutely not. “I’m a grown man. My student, Ryan, is—”
“Ryan? Is that a male name?” my mother asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, honey…” My mom burst into laughter. “I thought it was some pretty young thing entertaining you.”
Objectively, that was a way some might describe Ryan. Not me. But some.
She sighed into her drink, clearly content.
“But I do agree, my son should focus less on his students and more on his beautiful wife,” my father added, coughing and wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
My mom shoved him lightly. “Oh, Richard.” Then he turned to Lilly. “But dear, be happy it’s not one of those pesky blonde bimbos. Trust me, my Richard used to get flirted with all the time when he was a professor. Those women will do anything to snag them.”
My mom rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively.
Lilly nodded politely, but the way she gripped her fork told me the tension hadn’t left.
***
The car ride home was usually filled with banter, sometimes dirty talk if she’d had enough to drink, but tonight was heavy with silence. Not exactly how I’d wanted to spend my weekend.
Instead, I found myself thinking about Ryan, and how he’d wished me an amazing weekend.
He was so handsy on Friday, always fussing with my tie, but he seemed just as touchy with everyone else.
At one point, he pressed a tiny hand-sewn doll into my palm, no bigger than my thumb, stitched from scraps of fabric and yarn. The hair was a messy blond mop, and the smile was sewn just a little too wide.
He said he’d been making them for his favorite teachers since he was a kid, a way to “remember him.”
I got knick-knacks like that all the time from students, but when I asked if the doll was of him, he insisted it wasn’t, and said it was some blonde cartoon character. I wasn’t convinced, but I kept it anyway.
Now it rattled against my car keys as I drove, the stitched smile catching my eye in the dashboard light.
Lilly broke the silence with a sigh. “I don’t want to fight, Nathan.”
“I don’t appreciate you bringing up that issue in front of my parents. What was the goal? If you have a problem, you tell me.”
She bit her lip, then leaned back in her seat. “I just… I want my husband home by nine-thirty. Your class ends at nine, and your usual office hours aren’t that late. You need to tell this little Ryan of yours that he can’t talk to you after every class.”
I exhaled as I pulled into the driveway. “Lilly—”
“No, Nathan. By the time you get back, you’re too tired to fuck me. I want you home at nine-thirty. Sharp. You’re the boss. You set the schedule—not the students. You.”
She unbuckled, slammed the door, and stalked inside.
All I could do was sit there, staring at the doll.
Little Ryan of yours.
I knew there had to be more beneath the surface. She couldn’t really have been this furious over a male student keeping me in my office for half an hour. I didn’t buy it.
I unlocked the door and found her at the counter, swirling whiskey in a glass. She didn’t look up right away. When she did, it wasn’t a greeting; it was a glare.
I bent to kiss her cheek out of habit. She angled away.
“Really? Two days a week. Me being late has you this upset?” I kept my voice even, the way I did with difficult students.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not just that, Nathan. It’s you giving him a ride, walking him home and—”
“Home? He lives in the dorms. It’s a short walk.”
“If it’s so short, why not let him go on his own?” Her brow arched, but her voice thinned. “And what about that little doll? Of himself? That doesn’t seem strange to you?”
I smiled faintly, almost indulgent. “It’s just a keychain. Probably a cartoon. I think you might be projecting, and that’s—”
“Projecting what exactly?” She crossed her arms.
I gave her a look. “Paul.”
Her scoff came sharp and immediate. “You can’t keep throwing that in my face! You said you forgave me, and now every time I have a problem with something, you bring up that I got drunk once and slept with Paul!”
I watched her, studied the flush in her cheeks, the defensive shift of her shoulders. Two years later, and the guilt still gnawed at her.
“Hey,” I said gently, stepping closer, resting a hand on her arm. “I’m just saying… maybe you’re seeing things that aren’t there. It’s a reflex. When someone’s crossed a line, they start looking for trouble in places it isn’t… almost like they’re trying to justify the guilt they still feel.”
“Oh, don’t psychoanalyze me right now.”
I caught her wrists, lowered them to her sides, not rough, just certain. “Enough. I’ll try to be home earlier. No more late nights in the office. But this jealousy…it’s misplaced. I don’t want it to grow into something that destroys us.”
She hesitated, then nodded. I kissed her temple to close the conversation.
“Okay, you're right, but you’ll try to come earlier, right? I miss you .”
“Of course, I’ll do my best.”
She smiles, catching my lips between hers.
“Thank you.”
***
Class was over, but I saw Ryan waiting for me. He gave me a bright smile and stayed behind, watching the last of the students trickle out.
As soon as the room emptied, I made it obvious I was leaving, shutting off my monitor, packing my bag, slinging it over my shoulder.
Ryan stayed leaning against the wall. I didn’t miss the way Landon, one of my more popular students, winked at him on his way out.
I clenched my jaw as Ryan approached. It was 9:02. I could definitely make it home early if I could just—
“Hi, Professor,” he greeted, sliding onto my desk and swinging his legs, blocking the way.
I kept my expression measured, leaning a hand on the desk beside him. “I can’t stay today, Ryan.”
He didn’t acknowledge it.
“Did you like the keychain I made you?”
I hesitated. My mouth felt dry, and I wet my lips before answering. “Yes. Thank you. But I—”
“Where is it?” His head tilted, eyes flicking over me like he was searching for it. “If you tossed it, that’s fine. I won’t take it personally.”
I reached into my satchel and held up my keys. “It’s right here. On my keys.”
“Cute,” he murmured, gaze lingering on me a little longer than necessary before he slid them from my hand. His fingers brushed my palm, light, but intentional.
I swallowed.
“Ryan—”
“This would look better on you,” he said, quieter now, like he was telling me a secret.
I frowned, unsure what he meant until his hand found my hip. The contact was fleeting, almost careful, but it drew me closer. He unclipped the keychain, eyes never leaving mine, and fed it through one of the belt holes at my waist. His knuckles grazed my stomach before the clasp clicked shut.
When he leaned back, the smirk was faint, but his gaze lingered where his hand had been. I didn’t move right away.
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Okay… how about tomorrow?”
I shook my head, confusion flooding me. “Tomorrow what?”
“You said you can’t stay today, so let’s finish this conversation tomorrow?” He smiled.
His hands were gone, but the sensation still lingered on my skin.
No, I needed to focus. This is where I made the boundaries clear.
I cleared my throat. “My office hours are three to four p.m. on Mondays only. Sorry, Ryan, but most of your questions can be handled by my TA.”
His smile faded. He slid off the desk, arms tightening at his sides.
“What? Why?”
I’d seen this shift before, Ryan could go from lighthearted to defensive in a breath. If I wasn’t careful, the conversation could turn sharp, even personal.
“I’m saying it because I need that time for grading and other students,” I said evenly. “I appreciate your interest in the class, but I can’t always give you extra hours.”
He blinked, then gave a short laugh without humor. “Bullshit.”
My brow knit. “Excuse me?”