19. Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Elijah
T he rumbling of my stomach pulls me from sleep. With a few slow blinks, my eyes crack open to find the sun only starting to rise. It’s earlier than I normally wake, but hunger is the only reason I’m not sleeping.
While it took a little more convincing to get Bex to stay the night, it didn’t take as much as I’d feared.
Bex.
I stretch my arm to the side and turn to find a cold sheet and empty space.
Fuck.
She did it again. She took off on me in the middle of the night. Even though she said she’d stay.
While I drove her here, it’s not that far of a walk back to campus. She could do it if she was determined enough.
I rip the pillow out from behind my head and drop it on my face, throwing my arms out to the sides.
What a Goddamn fool I am.
As much as she worries that she’s too young for me, which she absolutely is, that fear goes both ways. What would a young girl like her want to do with an old guy like me? Sure, I’m in my early thirties, but to a nineteen-year-old I may as have one foot in the grave.
It’s not like I’m well off. I don’t exactly have much to offer her. And there’s certainly no money to be had. I’m a college professor, for fuck’s sake.
Before my pity party can carry on for too long, the side of the bed dips, and I tear the pillow from my face to lean up on my elbow, squinting as the light is now twice as harsh.
Bex has my button-down on again, her hair cascading over one shoulder. It’s the perfect mix of sex hair and sleep hair and it's so fucking sexy.
“What’s the face for?” She raises an eyebrow in question, smiling down at me.
“I…uh… I thought you left in the middle of the night. Again.”
Her features drop and her face rearranges in despair. “I’m sorry I did that. I didn’t know what to make of what had happened, and to me, it just seemed easier to disappear than have an awkward conversation in the morning. I regretted it, though.” Slightly lifting her gaze to mine, she looks up at me through her eyelashes.
“You did?”
With pursed lips, she nods. “I thought about it, about you, a lot after that. Even after we saw each other in class that one day. It might have made things easier had we actually gotten to know each other, or it could have just been harder.”
“I think things worked out how they’re supposed to. I’ve been through enough things in my life to believe that’s the case for just about everything. What happens from here, I don’t know.”
“What do you want to happen?”
My eyes widen, and I run a hand through my hair. “That’s a loaded question. Especially because what I want and what can be are very different things. Not to mention, your wants.”
Her head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t answer the question.”
“I guess not exactly, no. I think we both know that anything between us is wrong. What happened at Mazie’s wedding doesn’t count because we didn’t know better. Now? It's a big risk to be taking.”
She tucks some hair behind her ear and starts picking at her cuticles, no longer looking at me.
I reach over and take her hand in mine, scooting closer. “But it’s a risk I want to take, Bex. When I said I was done fighting this, I meant it. There are so many things I’ve done for others, given up for other people. And I did it all willingly and would absolutely do it again. But this is one area, one thing, that I want to be selfish about. Despite the possible consequences, despite the many things that could go wrong. I want this. I want you .”
When she doesn’t say anything, my heart stutters, and I worry I said too much, that I went too far. That she doesn’t feel the same way.
But then she lifts those beautiful jade eyes to mine, and they’re swimming in tears. And while I don’t know for certain that they’re happy tears, something in my heart tells me they absolutely are.
“You want me? You’re willing to risk…everything, for me?”
“Yeah. But only if you want me back, Bex. I’m not the type of man to be forceful, and I certainly won’t chase after you if it’s not what you want. And if you need a little time to think it over, I understand th—”
“No!” She clears her throat and smiles. “Sorry. No, I don’t need to think anything over. I never stopped thinking about you, stopped dreaming about you. So many what ifs played through my head. And then when I realized you were my professor? It was like a heavy door slammed shut. But I still couldn’t help the thoughts, the pull. So, yes, Eli, I want this too.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling. The return on investment for being selfish is paying off, and it’s only been a few hours. I scoot closer and lose a hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head as I pull her mouth to mine.
“Will you stay today?”
“I already told you I would.”
I lift one shoulder. “Just making sure.”
“I’m all yours until I have to leave for work tomorrow. I respect your sisters too much to leave them in the lurch last minute, especially when I’m entirely capable of being there.”
“I understand. We, uh, we should probably talk about what to tell them?”
“Agreed. But…can we eat first? I’m starving.” She crumples and holds her hands over her stomach.
“Good idea. It’s what woke me up.” I roll to the other side of the bed and throw off the covers.
Bex inhales sharply behind me, and I realize I’m naked. I’m so used to sleeping however I want, sometimes in the nude, that I forgot we stripped down and had a quickie before falling asleep.
With a smirk, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. As I round the bed, I wrap my arm around Bex’s waist and pull her into my side.
The nutty aroma of coffee greets me and my insides warm.
“You made coffee?”
Her face pinkens. “I hope that’s okay. I was awake and—”
I cut her off with a quick peck. “That’s not only okay, but very welcome. Thank you. Don’t feel like you have to tiptoe around. Make yourself at home.”
The blush deepens, but she smiles and nods. “I would have thrown together some breakfast, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I figured coffee was probably safer.”
“While I will say that you are free to cook any time you like, you stayed the night at my place, per my request, so it’s only right that I make breakfast.”
“I will sit and watch then.” She scoots onto a chair at the breakfast bar, placing her chin in her palm with an expectant look on her face.
I’m not used to cooking for other people anymore. And because it’s Bex, I feel a need to add a little flare, spinning the pan in my hand as I pull it from the cabinet.
The rest is seamless, like practiced choreography. The only problem is that I fall so into the routine of cooking, that I practically forget Bex is behind me until I shift to pull down plates.
She hops off her stool and walks over to stand next to me. “Mugs?”
I point toward the cabinet above the coffeepot. I feel like a fool. I basically just ignored her for twenty minutes.
Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to mind, or at least doesn’t bring it up as I plate our omelets, bacon, and rye toast.
I slide the plates across the bar and grab utensils and napkins before rounding the counter. It seems she’s taking my suggestion to make herself at home to heart, as she’s deep in the fridge.
“Looking for something?”
“Just wondering if you have any creamer.”
“Um. No. Sorry. I drink mine black.”
She shrugs and skips over with the quart of milk in her hands. “That’s okay. This will work just fine.” Tipping the plastic bottle, she adds a little, then a little more. With a short nod, she decides it’s right and puts the milk back. It’s somewhat fascinating.
“So, what kind of coffee do you like?” I stab my omelet and shove a large piece into my mouth.
“Well, a mocha is my absolute favorite. Who doesn’t love chocolatey coffee? But I just like the added flavor of the creamer. Hazelnut, French vanilla, caramel. It doesn’t really matter. Most are delicious.”
I watch intently as she picks up her fork and cuts into her omelet, slowly bringing it to her mouth.
Her eyes widen and she turns to me. “Holy shit, Eli. This is delicious.” She holds her hand over her mouth as she talks.
“It’s just an omelet.”
“Yeah, but do you know how hard they are to make well ? And this is so good. It’s light, it’s fluffy, and the peppers and onions are cooked perfectly with just a little bit of crunch left.”
“I’m glad you like it.” For a few minutes, we silently shove food into our mouths and take sips of coffee in between mouthfuls.
“Where’d you learn how to cook?”
My hands freeze against the counter, one gripping my fork while the other holds a piece of toast, while my chin drops to my chest. “My mom. She taught all of us. Alina, of course, picked it up the most, but we all learned at least basics to grow from.”
“I love that. Well it certainly served you well. Hopefully, I’ll get to thank her for raising such an amazing son someday.”
My mouth opens to tell her the truth, the one my sisters obviously have not. But it’s not a conversation for right now. Not something I’m willing to get into. Talking about my parents, thinking about them, it puts me in a funk for a few days, and I don’t want our first weekend together to be tainted.
So instead, I say the only thing I can think of. “Yeah, maybe someday.”