5. Ivy
Chapter 5
Ivy
T he key turns, the lock clicks, and I’m inside my shoebox of an apartment, heart still skipping like a scratched record. I replayed every moment of my time in Harrison’s office in my mind during the entire train ride home and then the short walk to my apartment.
There’s no denying it—the way Professor Ashe—Harrison—felt when I brushed against him today—the hardness I unintentionally encountered—lit a fire in my belly, the likes of which I’ve never experienced before.
I toss my keys and book bag onto the cluttered kitchen table, the metallic clink barely registering as I collapse onto the thrift-store couch that’s seen better days.
All those accidental grazes—the brush of his arm against mine or our hands as we reached for the same piece of paper—each one branded me with longing. Until, of course, I bent over and pressed my ass right into his groin.
Ugh. I cover my face with my hands, still embarrassed. How could I have been so stupid?
I almost jumped out of my skin when I realized the man I’d been thinking about all day stood right behind me.I had scoffed at Mrs. Brooks words, but after spending an hour and a half with the man, I now understand her concern. Every female in that classroom swooned .
When my last class ended, I hurried to his office, anxious to see him again. But he wasn’t there, so I waited, wondering if I should leave and return later. Then I noticed the stack of filing on the cabinet and thought it would work in my favor if I showed some initiative. People normally hate the task of filing, right? I could do it for him; he’d be happy and want to keep me around.
All had been fine until I reached to take the next piece of paper, and a bunch of pages slid right off the back edge of the cabinet, dropping down behind and out of reach.
I nearly drooled, watching the muscles in his arms bulge as he shifted that thing away from the wall, distracting me from the whole reason for being in his office in the first place. He’d removed his tie and rolled the sleeves of his shirt to the elbow, showcasing muscular forearms liberally sprinkled with dark hair. Because I was so nervous being around such an attractive man, I didn’t think before jumping forward as soon as the gap became wide enough for me to stick my hand back there.
Only I made the whole situation worse.
Without moving heaven and earth, there was no way I could ignore the hard bulge that fit pretty nicely right between my ass cheeks, making my nipples hard as pebbles and my vagina desperately clench around nothing.
God, I’m still mortified.
It twitched.
For a moment, the euphoria, the rush of knowing I had done that to him—I can’t lie, it thrilled me.
I grab one of my decorative pillows—my small indulgence to make this place homey— and hug it tight to my chest like it can soak up the crazy that’s bubbling inside me.
But who am I kidding? I’ve been invisible Ivy, the girl with no real friends who burrows behind the covers of books and hides under oversized sweaters since the age of six. I came to New York not only for my education but also to experience life. My plan, after settling in, included forcing myself to make friends, maybe meet a few guys, go on some dates. Do all the things other women my age do.
And now?
I don’t particularly want to meet other men my age. I want Harrison Ashe to see me. Really see me.
He’s my teacher, though. It’s probably not even allowed. Besides, how do you tell a guy like him—gorgeous, brilliant, ten years older—that you might want to be more than his TA or his student? I’ve never made the first move before. Hell, I’ve never made any moves.
I push off the couch and pace around my studio apartment, my socked feet padding over the worn wooden floor. I need a plant. Some greenery would look nice in here.
I could write him a note, but that’s high school secret admirer stuff. Texting him doesn’t seem right, and I don’t know his number. I don’t want to appear stalkerish either.
“Movies,”I say out loud as if naming it will summon some Hollywood magic into my life. “People kiss in the movies, right?”They lean in, eyes locking as their lips meet, and bam—a fairytale moment.
I bet he’s a great kisser.
Unfortunately, this is real life—and I’m not some starlet with a script. Or even a woman who has experience kissing a man. I’m the girl who plans, organizes, and color-codes her notes. Who takes a few years after high school to work in every job she can find in her small town to save enough money to attend school. A school in another city—a big city—without saying a word to her parents.
They won’t approve.
But what if I step outside my comfort zone this once? That’s what I came here for, right? Could it be the start of something new, or would I make a total fool of myself?
Oh Lord, what if he’s got a girlfriend? Maybe he has a wife and a family. I didn’t notice a ring on his finger.But I didn’t look either. I’ve never done this; I don’t know what to look for.
I shake my head, trying to ground myself. I came here to get my degree, not to fall in love with the first good-looking man I see. Besides, he’s probably not even interested in somebody like me. I’m a nobody. Just another student.
Then why the erection?
It’s a normal reaction for a guy, right?
But that doesn’t explainmybody’s reaction. I’ve been around boys, not many, but enough to know I never had any sort of reaction to their closeness or because I gazed at their bodies. I’ve never been that attracted to anyone before.
And why did he rush away? Where did he go? That was strange. Maybe he had a make a call or something and didn’t want to ask me to leave his office? Wherever he went, whatever he did, he came back grumpier than when he left. Maybe not grumpy, but certainly more focused. We spent the next thirty minutes discussing my role as his TA.
I consider my options. I can forget the whole thing and carry on as if nothing happened because maybe it was all one-sided anyway. Probably .
Or I can risk it all and tell him how I feel, consequences be damned. And if he didn’t feel a thing, my embarrassment should die down by the end of the year. Or I can play it safe and see if there are any signs of interest on his end before making a move.
I flop back onto the couch, grabbing my pillow again as I stare at the ceiling fan above. Maybe I’ll wait and see if he makes a move first.
I glance at the time on my antiquated microwave—dinner time. The sun has already started to set, and the light streaming in from my windows—the best part of this apartment—shrouds the tiny apartment in a warm glow.
I need to distract myself from Professor Ashe. Knocking on your professor’s door to confess your forbidden crush isn’t exactly top-student-worthy or even sane adult behavior.
My books beckon me from the kitchen table, a reminder of my reason for being in New York.
I get up with a new plan. I’ll microwave some dinner and start working on my calendar for the next few weeks.
Before I can do anything, though, my phone buzzes inside my bag. I pull it out and see a picture of Mom on the screen.
“Hey, Mom,”I answer, my voice cautious as I head to the freezer in search of tonight’s dinner.
“Ivy, you’re home.”Her voice is slightly shrill even through the phone as if she thinks I can’t hear her unless she speaks louder. “Why didn’t you call? How was your first day of classes? Are you eating?”
“Mom,”I interject, but she steamrolls right over me with another barrage of questions, and then jumps right into filling me in on the gossip from home.
Well, if there’s anything that can take my mind off my hot professor, it’s talking to Mom without giving anything away.