Chapter 10
IVY
We managed to stay away from each other on campus, but there were still a few stolen moments.
A glance when no one was looking. His hand brushing mine in the supply closet.
A low “You’re driving me insane” murmured against my ear when I passed him in the hallway wearing something he claimed shouldn’t be allowed in a college building.
But now, with no classes, no lingering eyes, no Eleyna hovering like a ghost in every room, I was free to exist in his world. Completely.
The second I stepped into his house that Saturday morning, it felt different. He greeted me with a slow kiss, hands on my hips, and for the first time in weeks, we didn’t pull away.
He didn’t say much. Just took my bag, set it by the door, and led me to the kitchen.
The windows were open, letting in a breeze that smelled like pine and the promise of rain.
Music played low in the background. He handed me a mug of coffee, and we leaned against the counter in a kind of peaceful silence that didn’t need to be filled.
“I want this week to be ours,” he said eventually. “No stress. No rules. Just…us.”
I nodded, feeling that lump in my throat I always got when he said things like that.
And that’s exactly what it became.
The days were slow and easy. We painted together in the back room, sometimes quietly, sometimes side by side with our knees bumping, sometimes not saying anything for hours except a muttered curse when a brush fell or a color dried too fast.
We cooked dinner every night, took turns picking movies, played board games.
And sometimes, we fucked. On his couch, his bed, the shower.
One night, three days in, I woke to find him sketching me.
The lamp beside the bed was on, casting soft light across his face and the open sketchbook on his lap.
I didn’t say anything, just watched him for a moment, memorizing the way his brow furrowed in focus.
When he noticed I was awake, he smiled, set the pencil down, and crawled back into bed like nothing about what he’d just done was out of the ordinary.
We didn’t talk about the outside world.
Not once.
Not about Eleyna. Not the people who would have opinions, or the fact that this time next week, we’d have to pretend we were nothing again.
Because here, I wasn’t just a student.
And he wasn’t my professor.
We were just Ivy and Will.
But on Thursday, something shifted.
Will had been acting a little off since morning. Distracted, even though he tried not to show it. He kissed me like usual, touched me like usual, but there was a tension in his shoulders he hadn’t carried all week.
When I asked what was up, he just said, “Later.”
I didn’t press. I trusted him. But I couldn’t help watching him a little more closely as the day wore on. He spent most of the afternoon in his home office, shutting the door for phone calls he wouldn’t explain, and when I passed by, I caught pieces of his voice, calm but clipped. Purposeful.
Dinner was already prepped when I wandered into the kitchen around six, confused when he told me not to help.
“Go sit on the porch,” he said, sliding two glasses across the counter toward me. “Sun’s setting. I’ll bring everything out in a few.”
I furrowed my brows. “What’s going on?”
He just smirked. “Nothing bad. Promise.”
I did as he said, partly because I was curious, and partly because I was too comfortable in his hoodie to argue. The sky was streaked in lavender and pink, and the forest just beyond the house was bathed in gold.
Ten minutes later, he came out with two plates of pasta, a bottle of wine, and a piece of paper tucked under his arm.
We ate first. He wouldn’t tell me what it was. Not even when I narrowed my eyes and asked four different times.
Finally, after we finished, he took a deep breath and pulled out the folded sheet of paper, setting it in front of me on the table.
“What’s this?”
“Just read it,” he said, barely containing the grin threatening to break across his face.
I unfolded it.
And then I froze.
It was an email. From the director of the city’s modern art museum.
Your student’s submission, “Rain in Blue”, was exceptional. We’d be proud to display it as part of our spring emerging artists installation.
My eyes scanned the lines again. And again.
“I didn’t submit it,” I whispered.
“I did,” Will said softly. “A month ago. It just sits there for nobody to see. It needs to be seen, Ivy.”
My throat closed. “Will…”
“They’ve already confirmed the placement,” he added. “It’s going up next weekend. Your name, your work. It’s official.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. I couldn’t. My hand flew to my mouth and I just sat there.
Stunned.
Overwhelmed.
He reached for me across the table, his voice softer now. “You deserve to be seen, Ivy. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But when I heard back today, I couldn’t wait.”
I stood, rounded the table in two quick steps, and fell into his arms.
“You’re insane,” I whispered, hugging him tight. “You did this for me?”
“Of course I did,” he murmured into my hair. “You’re the most talented person I’ve ever met. I’d do anything to make sure people see that.”
For the first time in weeks, I felt more than wanted.
I felt recognized .
And it was because of him.
“I love you, Will,” I whispered into the crook of his neck. My heart was pounding, and I was overcome with joy.
His arms tightened around me. “I love you too, darling. And I’m so fucking proud of you. Always remember that.”
I would.
And I would love him forever.
Because when a man like Will gave you everything, you gave him your soul and never once asked for it back.