12. Harrison
Chapter 12
Harrison
L ong before the afternoon sex in my office, a specific fantasy I’ll admit, I’d taken precautionary measures to make sure this thing I have with Ivy lasts.
The moment I stroll into the lecture room, my pulse accelerates and my heart sings. There she is, in her usual seat in the front row—close enough to torment me with her presence but far enough away that I can't touch her.
Unfortunately, I also get the sense she's avoiding me again. It's nothing she's said or done. It’s not even physical. It's more how she looks at me—like she's sad. I worry she regrets what happened between us, not only at my apartment but in my office, where I didn't give her much of a choice. But when I opened the door and saw her, saw that wet pink pussy on display, her dainty fingers sliding in and out, covered in her juices, I lost control. I acted without thinking. I didn’t ask. I took.
And I loved every second of it.
I've had a few girlfriends over the years, but nothing serious. I've always had my priorities, and relationships were not at the top of the list. But Ivy changes everything. I feel different when I'm with her. I don't care about the difference in our ages or how fast things developed with her. I don't care what Dean Martens, my colleagues, or anybody else might say. I don't even care about tenure. I want Ivy in my life, if she'll have me.Forever.
“Morning, class,”I announce, setting my bag on my desk. I feel her gaze on me, heavy and expectant, as I start scribbling today's key points on the chalkboard. It's like a physical touch, sending shivers straight through me. But when I glance over my shoulder, her eyes are downcast.
“Today, we're going to tackle a particularly challenging passage from James Joyce's Ulysses. Joyce uses a stream-of-consciousness narrative technique to convey the inner thoughts of the protagonist. His prose is dense and fragmented, which reflects the chaos and complexity of human consciousness.”
I launch into the lesson, but it's on autopilot. With every word that spills from my lips, I'm acutely aware of her presence, like a magnetic pull I'm fighting.
“Any questions?” I ask the class.
Ivy raises her hand, and damn if my heart doesn't skip a beat and everybody else in the room fades into the background.
“Could you explain what Joyce means by 'Ineluctable modality of the visible'in simpler terms? I'm having trouble understanding the concept.”
“Certainly.” I walk toward her, eager to be closer. And as it always does, when I’m within range, her lavender scent reaches out and wraps around me, calming me immediately. “The term ineluctablemeans unavoidable or inevitable, and modalityrefers to a particular way of experiencing something. So, 'ineluctable modality of the visible'is referring to the unavoidable way we experience the world through sight. In other words, we can try to understand the world, but we’re limited by what we can see, which in turn shapes our understanding and interpretation of reality. Does that help clarify things?”
“Yes, it does. Thank you.”
Every cell in my body is screaming to close the gap between us, to reach out and caress her skin, to bend over and sniff her hair.
Swallowing, I turn and walk back to the front of the room. “Let's pick up the pace,”I say, diving into a new topic that demands focus, hoping it'll distract me from the dangerous path I'm teetering on.
The class ends, and I'm hopeful she'll stick around like normal, and we'll discuss this week's assignment while we try to contain our attraction to one another until we're somewhere less likely to get caught. But when I glance up after tucking my notes away, she's already at the back of the room, talking with another student as they exit together.She doesn’t even look back.
Once the room empties, I collapse into my chair, gutted, realizing my intuition isn't wrong. Ivy is definitely avoiding me. And I don't like it.
“Damn it.” I may be playing with fire, but I want to start over. I want to explore this undeniable attraction without the looming threat of scandal. We need to spend time together outside of school, my office, or my apartment.
We need to go on a date.
I send her a text.
HARRISON:
Ivy, I missed you after class.
IVY:
Sorry, I got talking to Allison.
Don't apologize. Listen, have you had a chance to do any sightseeing yet?
No. Not much.
Good. I hope you're free this weekend. I'd like to take you out.
I wait for what feels like forever before I see she's typing a response.
Um, okay. That would be nice.
I waste no time responding.
I'll pick you up on Saturday morning at 10.
See you then
Now, I have to get through the next couple of days.
It's shaping up to be one of the best days I've had in a very long time. I pick Ivy up on time, and we stop for coffee before beginning a leisurely stroll through Central Park. At this time of year, the vibrant colors, crisp air, and the mix of natural beauty with iconic landmarks make it a perfect autumn outing. Walking through the park always soothes me, and I hope Ivy will see and appreciate its beauty.
Starting at Columbus Circle, we take the tree-lined paths to The Mall and then enjoy the canopy of elm trees along the Literary Walk, naturally pausing for pictures near the statues of Shakespeare, Robert Burns, and Sir. Walter Scott. I don't attempt to hold her hand, but I make sure our arms occasionally bump together. I keep my strides short to match hers, and we stop often to look at the birds or squirrels.Well, she watches the wildlife, and I stare at her.
From there, we continue to Bethesda Terrace and Fountain and explore the architectural details before stopping to listen to some street musicians. The weather is gorgeous today, not too chilly and with lots of sun, so everyone is taking advantage of the day. After taking more photos at Bow Bridge, we check out the conservatory, and finally, we roam through the zoo before heading back to the Boathouse for lunch.
Ivy's excitement about everything she sees is palpable, and I realize as we talk, and I watch her eyes light up, that this city has so much to offer. I’m eager to share every aspect of it with her. It's not about the pull of her nearness anymore; it's about unveiling to her a world she's never known. And perhaps, selfishly, finding a way to keep her orbiting my universe a bit longer.
“Ever been to The Strand?”I ask casually as we exit the restaurant, the afternoon breeze playing with a few loose strands of her braid. My hands itch to take over.
She shakes her head, eyes wide with that insatiable curiosity that captivates me. “No, but I've heard about it. Isn't it that big bookstore?”
“Biggest,”I confirm with a grin. “Eighteen miles of books, they say. You can get lost in there for hours.”
“Sounds perfect,”she murmurs, and I catch the undertone of longing in her voice.
“How about we go check it out?”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”Taking her hand and interlacing our fingers, we head toward the closest subway entrance.
Together, we navigate the underground maze, and I watch her take in the vibrant graffiti-stained walls and the bustling mix of people from all walks of life. With each step, she discovers something new that captures her attention—a street performer belting out a song, a colorful mural depicting city life, and a group of friends laughing and chatting. The sound of subway trains rumbling on the tracks and the chatter of hundreds of conversations fill our ears as we approach our destination. Through it all, I am struck by her curiosity and eagerness to absorb every aspect of this urban world around us.
And I find myself falling harder every with every step we take.
Inside the bookstore, I point out first editions and rare finds and explain their significance. Her fascination is tangible, and it fuels a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with desire—well, maybe a little.
“Look at this one,”I say, pulling down a weathered copy ofan old classic. “It's like holding a piece of history.”
She takes the book from me, fingers tracing the cover reverently. “It's beautiful,”she breathes. “To think of all the people who have held this book before us...”Our hands brush as she returns it, and the electric current that zings up my arm is matched by the look in her eyes.
We spend a couple of hours browsing through the giant bookstore, and by the time we leave, the sun is beginning to set. I hail a cab and tuck her inside, crawling next to her and giving the driver her address, watching to see if she'll correct me.
Hoping she will.
She doesn't.
And she's quiet for much of the ride to the Bronx.
As we near her apartment, my heart begins to pound, and my palms start to sweat. I'm not ready for our day to be over.
“Today was amazing, Harrison,”she says softly before turning to look up at me with those big beautiful green eyes. “Thank you.
“I enjoyed it as well. It was fun seeing everything fresh through your eyes.”We're side by side but not touching, and I'm aching to close the distance. I watch the lights outside the vehicle play across her face as she stares out the window, and I realize that for Ivy, I'd let it all burn down—my reputation, my career... everything.
The driver reaches Ivy's building, and we both get out. He asks if he should wait, and I tell him no. If Ivy asks me to leave, I'll get myself home.
In front of her building, I put my hand on her shoulder and turn her around. “Are you okay? You seemed to enjoy today, but now you're quiet, lost in thought.”
“More like lost in a whole other world,”she corrects, half-smiling.
“What are you thinking about? Maybe I can help.”
She rolls her lips together. “I've been thinking a lot about you and me. What we're doing is risky, Harrison. I don't want you getting into trouble because of me. Even though you haven’t said anything, I know you must have taken some heat last year, with that other girl.”
I take her hands in mine. “Sometimes,”I confess, “you find something—or someone—that makes you reconsider what you're willing to risk.”I stare into her eyes, hoping she understands the depth of my words.
“Even if it could cost you everything you’ve worked so hard for?”There's a tremor in her voice.
“Especially then.”Because what's life without a little gamble on something real? “Come on, let's walk.”
We stroll in silence, our fingers intertwined. I'm desperate to do more than hold her hand—hell, I want to pull her against me and promise her forever in between kisses. But I can't stampede into her life; I need to be the guy who walks beside her, showing her the paths, not pushing her down them. I'm old enough to understand that, even if it means she doesn't want to go down any path with me.
“Harrison,”she whispers, her voice catching the night breeze, “why are you doing all this?”She circles her free hand in the air in front of us. “Me, today, the times we've been together. There are so many other women you can have, better women, women your age, with more experience.”
“Because I like you, Ivy. I like you a lot. And it's not about sex, though that's fantastic. I see how your eyes light up when you discover something new.”I remember those days and living them again through her eyes excites me.
“Even if it could jeopardize your career?”She stops walking and turns to look up at me. On the street behind us, cars pass by, and a few buildings down, two people shout at each other.
“Let me worry about that, Ivy.”
“Ican't. I would never forgive myself if that happened.”
“It won't.”I'm impressed with her sense of respect and selflessness for somebody so young. That woman last year didn't give a fuck about me or my career when she lied to me. She boasted about our night together without caring about the consequences. Ivy's not like that. Ivy's more worried about me than herself.
“You don't know that.”
“Life's about taking chances, Ivy. Calculated ones. I wouldn't have started a relationship with you if I didn't think it was worth it.”
There's conviction in my tone that I hope it conveys more than my words because now that I know how I feel about Ivy Kendrick, and how I think she feels about me, I have no intention of letting her walk out of my life without a fight.