Chapter Seven
Rosie
“I’ve been calling you all weekend!” Ellie leans against the brick wall outside the philosophy lecture hall and narrows her dark gaze like I’m in trouble. “I even stopped by and banged on your door. If I hadn’t seen your car in the driveway, I’d have thought Professor Hot Stuff had kidnapped you.”
“Oh hush.” I grip her hand in mine and walk down the empty side hall with her.
“Hush? I can’t hush. You disappeared all weekend! You totally left your very best friend on the entire planet hanging. I don’t know if I’m getting a free dinner or planning your funeral.”
“I texted you back. You just didn’t like the answer.”
She pushes her glasses up dramatically. “I thought maybe that was your captor texting me.”
“To tell you I was working?”
“Yes!”
“Wouldn’t he have asked you for ransom or something?”
“You’re deflecting again.” She pauses and lands her hand on her hip with a sigh. “What happened this weekend?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “I just went to Professor Wilder’s house, came home, found my dad all drunk and spiraling about my mom, talked him off a ledge, went to work, did my homework, and tried to compose myself for today.”
She stares at me for a solid second before dragging in a long, heavy, very deep breath. “I’m sorry about your dad, but this is getting out of control, Rosie. He needs help you can’t give him.”
The scent of cafeteria pizza wafts through the hallway. It doesn’t smell that bad, like there might be some rosemary or oregano in their seasoning. It’s that, or I’m starving. I missed breakfast this morning.
“I know you’re right. He needs rehab. It’s just… he’s all I have in the whole world, and deep down, I know this isn’t him. He’s sick, Ellie.”
Ellie pinches her lips together, attempting to close the dam before her opinions come flying out. I’m thankful, because though I know she’s right, I don’t know how to get him to go. We’ve talked about rehab a million times. He’s not interested.
“Anyway,” she huffs, “what happened with Professor Hot Stuff?”
I bite back a smile I don’t mean to crack. “Nothing. It was innocent.”
“Innocent, my ass!” she barks playfully. “I need to know right now, or I swear to high heaven I’ll tell everyone in this hallway how much you love watching Bluey.”
I roll my eyes. “Everyone likes watching Bluey. It’s for grown-ups, too. Just last week there was an episode about Bluey learning to ride her bike and—”
“Tell me about your night with Professor Wilder!” Ellie brushes her hair back into a pony while she yaps out her demands.
“Okay, okay!” I grin. “Well… I may have had a really nice time with a very sexy, very off limits, man on Friday night.”
“And he pulled your hair, bit you, and spanked your ass?” She leans against the window seat at the back of the hall as she talks.
“No, but we sort of… I don’t know, we were trying not to do anything and accidentally did things. It was hot.”
“Like you’re not in the club anymore hot or…”
“Still in the club,” I laugh. “Very much so. We just did like,” my face turns red, “I sat on his face.”
“Oh my God!” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I knew he was a freak?”
My smile turns straight again. “I’m pretty sure he regretted it immediately. He took the whole event back right after, saying he needed to do the right thing.” I glance down at my phone. “We really should get to class. I don’t want to cause a scene by being late.”
Ellie hops off the windowsill, tugs down her black skirt, and walks beside me, peppering me with questions. “What do you mean he took it back? You can’t take something like that back.”
I raise my brows. “He tried.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Who cares, right? It was fun, and you were right. I’ll totally fantasize about that forever and ever. He’s very good at what he does.”
“Oh damn,” Ellie giggles under her breath as we step toward the philosophy lecture hall. “I’m proud of you, girl. You earned your turquoise.”
“Damn right!” I smile and pull the lecture hall door open, the scent of him smacking me in the face like a hard slap.
I’ve been nervous to come back here all day, but actually being back here has me wondering if I can honestly finish the semester knowing I have to stare at the man whose face I was sitting on.
“Let’s catch up tomorrow night. My mom just informed me that she’s hiring a bodyguard to watch over me when I move to Rugged Mountain after graduation.” Her eyes roll to the side. “A bodyguard!”
I narrow my brows as we separate to our seats on the opposite side of the hall. “And why is this?”
“Adam,” she mouths as she takes her spot. “I’ll text you.”
I nod slowly and try to look as interested in what she’s saying for as long as possible. I mean… I am. Her mom hiring a bodyguard is borderline insane, though part of me is overly interested in the eyes staring at me from the front of the lecture hall.
Why is he staring?
When he said we should do the ‘right’ thing, I assumed that meant he’d no longer be looking at me.
Textbook in hand, I make my way toward my desk, third row to the right of the hall. Usually, Izzy sits next to me with her long braids and pretty rose gold jewelry that clinks and clanks when she writes. The sound is soothing. Today, though, Greg is sitting in her spot.
We don’t have assigned seats, though we were told to stay put after the first day of class. If I’d known Ellie was in class with me, I’d have made sure we were sitting together from the start.
“Hey.” Greg, who usually sits behind me, nods as I slide down into my seat. “I switched with Izzy today. I can’t see as well from where I’m sitting.”
I smile politely and settle in, flipping my textbook open before pulling up my notes on the iPad. I’m not sure why he thinks he’ll be able to see better one row up, but I don’t ask questions.
I’m pretty sure he’s in the pre-med program. I’m not sure why he would need this class, but if he says he can see better one row up, maybe he can.
“You, ugh, I saw you last night at Safeway.” He tries to look away from my breasts as he talks, but it’s a fruitless effort.
Oh God!
Part of me is flattered. I’ve never noticed him noticing me before.
“Yeah, I like to buy groceries at least once a week, sometimes twice. You know… food.” The corners of my mouth twitch upward in an awkward grin.
What’s happening here?
Greg is a handsome kid. He’s got the square jaw, the biceps, the broad shoulders, the straight, thin pretty-boy nose, but why is he looking at me? Or talking to me?
“You’re funny,” he laughs, brushing his hand against my shoulder.
It’s then that I feel the heat of a giant man behind me.
“What are you doing in this seat?” Professor Wilder’s rough voice shakes.
“Oh, it’s no big deal. Izzy switched with me. My eyes have been a little blurry lately. I can see better from here.” Greg says it so casually that I really believe him. Well, I would… if he hadn’t just been staring at my tits and laughing at my terrible joke about grocery stores.
Professor Wilder grunts, the same feral look in his eyes he had last night. “Then why are you touching Rosie? Did she ask you to touch her?”
Greg shakes his head. “No, I was just… I wasn’t really touching her. She said something funny, so I was—”
“Rosie,” Professor Wilder snaps, “did you want Greg touching you?”
I’m not sure what the correct answer is. The truth is no, I don’t want Greg touching me, but this little outburst of jealousy from Professor Wilder is pretty hot, and I think I want to see where it’s going, so I shrug.
“You don’t know if you want him touching you?” Professor Wilder groans under his breath as he leans onto my desk, his nostrils flaring like a barbarian about to lose control.
“It’s not her fault, sir.” Greg glances toward me. Well, toward my breasts. “It’s my fault. I sat here. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
My eyes widen. I’m more than a few semesters into college and I’ve never had any attention from any man in any class. Now the professor and some kid I don’t know what to talk to me? I think I need to revisit my delusions because they might be taking over.
Greg clears his throat. “Honestly, Rosie, the truth is… I wanted to ask you to the Last Chance Dance.”
My jaw drops. I haven’t paid any attention to any student events because none of them matter to me. I’m usually too busy with work or school or my dad.
“You don’t have to give me an answer now,” Greg continues, “but maybe you’ll think about it?”
Silence. The entire lecture hall is quiet, like our conversation is their entertainment.
My face heats and my heart hammers against my chest. What the hell is happening?
“Rosie,” Professor Wilder’s voice drops even deeper, “Greg asked you a question. Do you want to go to the Last Chance Dance with him?”
Is there some kind of escape button in here? I’d really love a bottomless pit right now.
Snakes? No problem!
Spiders? Yes, please!
Anything to get me out of here!
Truthfully, I don’t know what I want. I mean, nothing can happen between Professor Wilder and me, and Greg is a nice kid with a promising future.
Most girls would feel really happy to go out on a date with him.
I should say yes for those reasons, and not because I’m desperate to see what Professor Wilder does when I talk to another man.
That would be petty and silly, and trying to make him jealous is a schoolgirl’s game.
Then again, I am a schoolgirl.
“Yes,” I say, glancing back toward poor Greg, who doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, “I’d love to go to the dance with you.”
I shouldn’t smirk as I look directly at Professor Wilder, but I’m dialing back into that girl who stripped off her clothes last night on a whim.
I think I like her.
The normally placid, kind, studious man with soft, introspective eyes growls low in his throat as he burns a hole in the side of Greg’s head and grinds his teeth like another man is drooling all over his meal.
I love it!
Does it make me a bad person that I love it?
It probably does.
Am I okay with that?
Right now, I kind of am.