13. Ivy
Chapter 13
Ivy
I stuff the letter I wrote last night into my bag, feeling its weight like a lead secret. I can't do it anymore—being here, breathing the same air as Harrison, going about my days like I haven't fallen head over heels in love with my professor. It's shredding my insides, leaving me raw and exposed. Harrison can lose his job, if we’re exposed, and I can be kicked out of school.My parents won’t understand, but they’ll certainly be disappointed in me
The halls are buzzing with life as we near the Thanksgiving holiday break, and everyone is excited about heading home in a few days. I'm facing it with mixed emotions because I've decided to go back to Ohio. It will be nice to see Mom and Dad, but I'll go home knowing I've left Harrison behind, confused about my sudden departure. And I'll be leaving New York behind for good.
I shoulder through the throng of students, each step a heavy drumbeat marching me closer to a decision I never thought I'd make—leave school, leave him.
Not long ago, I was wildly excited about my adventure in New York. I was finally spreading my wings. Getting out of a small town to live the big-city life. I'd meet so many interesting people, see the sights, learn great things. Life in a city the size of New York seemed scary but something I'd been looking forward to and planned for years.
“Hey, Ivy,”someone calls out, but I don't look back. For the first time, I sit in the back row during class. For the first time, I'm the first to exist the room rather than the last. Today, I needed to escape before Harrison called to me. Before, he urged me to remember the fabulous day in Central Park. That afternoon, while we were at the zoo, watching the penguins being fed, I realized I loved him. I was scared, though. When we talked after he took me home, he had me believing we could make it work.
Since then, we've visited Times Square, The Met, and Ellis Island. Each weekend has been filled with Harrison showing me the sights during the day and telling me how much I mean to him at night. After seeing the Statue of Liberty, we had dinner at a lovely restaurant, where he took my hand and softly rubbed his thumb back and forth over my knuckles, then asked me what my plans were for the holidays.
At that moment, I realized I needed to end things.
I've been playing with fire, dancing with danger in the shape of Professor Harrison Ashe.
During my walk to the administration building, the campus grounds are a blur of colors. It's the kind of day that usually makes me feel like anything's possible, but today, possibility feels like a trap—one where every exit leads straight back to him.
As I approach the dean's office, my heart is racing, and my palms are sweating. The receptionist is nowhere to be found, adding to my sense of unease. I pull the envelope from my bag, feeling the significance of its contents in my hands. Funny how a single page of paper can feel like the weight of the world. A nagging feeling of doubt creeps into my mind, but I shove it back. Regardless of how difficult, being the adult I claim to be, this decision is the right one to make. I can cry about it later.
“Ms. Kendrick?”
My head snaps up surprised he knows me by name. “Dean Martens.”
“Were you looking for me?”His eyebrow quirks up, his glasses slipping down his nose as he glances at the envelope in my hands.
“Um, yes, sir. I wanted to give you this.”My hand trembles as I hold it out to him.
The dean takes the envelope, opens it, skims the letter, and then glances at me. “You're leaving us?”
“Yes, sir. I've decided that New York's too big for me,”I lie, forcing a smile that I'm sure doesn't come close to reaching my eyes, so I quickly skip over him to look out the window. “I think I need something closer to home. A school that's smaller, more community focused maybe.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Are you sure that's all this is about?”He's scrutinizing me like he knows something. Does he know about me and Harrison? Has he seen us? Or has somebody else seen us and said something?
“Of course.”I zip my lip so I don't say anything that will make him more curious.
“Is there anything I can do to change your mind? From what I've seen, your professors are very pleased with the work you've done. I think we’re a good school for you.”
I rub my hands together. “Thank you, sir. But yes, I've made up my mind. I won't be coming back after the holidays. I've already made the necessary arrangements to complete my final assignments remotely, and I'll come back for any exams I need to do.”
“And your teaching assistant position?”
That's the one professor I have yet to talk to. I swallow and stare down at my shoes. “I'm up to date on all of my tasks, so I don't believe it will be a problem for Professor Ashe, sir.”
“Very well. I'm sorry to see you go, Ms. Kendrick. Good luck to you.”
“Thank you,”I mumble, making a beeline for the door before he can pry anything further from me. The moment the heavy oak door slams behind me, I exhale a shaky breath. I feel like I'm about to step off a cliff with no idea if there's water below or jagged rocks waiting to catch me and tear me open.
Outside, the cold November air slaps at my cheeks, and I drag it deep into my lungs as I hurry to the train station. It does nothing to quell the hurricane raging inside me as I make my way home. I still have one more letter to write. I only hope Harrison is nowhere to be found when I drop it off because I don't think I have the courage to face him when he reads it.
At home, sitting at my kitchen table, pen in hand, a piece of blank paper in front of me, I stare at the cracked stucco ceiling, blinking back tears. There's a pile of paper, crumpled into balls at my feet, all the attempts to find the perfect way to say goodbye.
None of them are perfect.
The next day, I've got another letter stuffed into my bag, even heavier than the last because it pours out my heart to a man I can't have.
I wait until the last minute before I step into the classroom where it all began, and my steps falter. I can almost hear Harrison's voice, smooth and persuasive over the last couple of months, teaching us about life's intricate literature complexities. He's so passionate about his work, and it shows. But the biggest lesson, the hardest one—I'm learning now—is how to walk away from a love that burns too bright, too dangerous, too... everything.
As I slide into an empty seat, of course, in the front, Harrison turns from the board, his gaze zeroing in on me immediately. A flicker of worry passes over his features before he resumes teaching with a slight furrow between his eyebrows. He seems off-kilter today, stumbling a bit over his words. I give him a slight smile, the best I can muster right now. I've been distant the past week as my thoughts churned with what I knew I had to do—coming to class late and leaving as quickly as possible. I completed marking all assignments remotely, emailing them to him without discussion.
Avoidance.My motus operandi when I’m working out a problem.
Grief is more apropos. I've been grieving a relationship I haven't yet officially ended. I'm grieving a man who hates ice cream but loves sorbet. He went to a private school where his mother taught andcanride horses. He is so intelligent that he’s gifted, but he doesn't act like it. I force myself to concentrate on the words flowing from his firm, kissable lips and instantly recall how they felt on my skin.
My pen scratches across the page as I jot down notes, determined to absorb every bit of knowledge being shared while I can. The sound of his deep voice resonates in the room, and I can't help but laugh when the others do, caught up in the energy of the lecture. As he moves about the classroom, I watch with fascination as his muscles flex beneath his navy Henley, perfectly outlining his toned arms. When he turns around, I can’t miss the way the fabric of his pants clings to his backside—it’s almost too much to handle. With great difficulty, I wrench my gaze away from him and focus on the lesson when I desperately want to catalog everything about him so I can whip his memory up at whim when I'm far away and alone.
When the class ends, I stay in my seat, waiting until finally, only the two of us remain in the room. My heart hammers. My mouth is dry.My knees are trembling.
“Ivy.”
“Professor Ashe.”
He cocks his head. “You seem distracted today.”And he takes a few steps toward me.
It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to jump into his arms, to feel them wrap around me one more time. “Can we talk? Just for a minute?”I spit the words out before I lose my nerve.
“Of course.”But his gaze flicks to the clock and then back to me, and I know we're on borrowed time. “Perhaps later, after the last class?”he suggests.
I shake my head. “It has to be now.”My voice comes out higher than usual, cutting through the air sharper than I intend.
“Sure.”He closes the distance and sits beside me, and our knees touch.
He's too close. The warmth of his body bleeds over to mine, and his scent fills my nose. I jump up and start pacing in front of him. I can hear voices in the hall as students make their way to their next class, and I know that any minute now, some of them are going to wander into this very room.
“I'm leaving,”I blurt, skipping the build-up I had meticulously planned and practiced in front of my bathroom mirror last night for hours until I could say the words with fewer tears than the previous attempts. “The school—I'm leaving school.”
His doesn't crumple like I half expect; instead, he takes the news with a stoic nod, his face a blank slate, other than a second of rapid blinking. “Why?”
“Because...”The words lodge in my throat, thick and uncooperative. “It's for the best. For both of us.”
“But—”
I cut him off with a raised palm.
“Please.”I wave my hand between us. “This is complicated, you know it, and I... I-I can't anymore. There's too much at stake.”Every inch of me screams to run into his arms, tell him I don't mean it and confess that I've fallen in love with him and desperately want him more than anything in the world. I shove the bulky envelope into his hand. “Here. This explains it all.”
“Can we talk about this?”His tone is even, but the tightness in his jaw tells me he's far from okay with my news. Now, his gaze is stormy with confusion and anger.
“I've made my decision.”
I wish I could find something memorable to say, hoping he’ll remember me fondly. All I can manage is a forced smile and a faint expression of gratitude for everything he's shared with me before I turn and walk away.
“Goodbye, Harrison.”His name catches in my throat, tears blocking my ability to say anything more. It feels like I'm drifting aimlessly, with no direction or purpose. All I know is that I need to get out of this room before I fall apart.
I'm halfway down the corridor when a hand grips my elbow, and I’m spun around until I find myself face-to-face with Harrison. He's no longer stone-faced; he's hurt. He’s angry. He’s more hurt though. I can see the pain in his eyes.
My traitorous heart pounds loudly in my chest.
“Wait,”he breathes. There's a plea in those whiskey-colored eyes that guts me.
“Harrison, I?—”
“Listen to me, Ivy.”His voice is a low rumble, the one that makes my body melt under his touch. “You're making a mistake.”
My defenses are already crumbling, but I try to hold it together, to keep myself from falling to pieces in front of him. “No, this is what I have to do.”
He steps closer, pushing me back, crowding me against the wall with his body's size and heat. A flurry of emotion pours off him in waves.
My eyes dart around us, panic setting in, but it’s not fear of him. It’s fear for him. “Harrison, somebody will see us.”
“I don't care.”
“I do, and you should.”
His fingers tuck a stray length of hair behind my ear, and my knees weaken at the gesture. “Then come with me, right now to somewhere less public, or I swear to God, we're having this conversation right here.”
“Your class?—”
“Will be fine without me. Let's go.”
He stalks off down the hall, and I tag along behind because, for the life of me, I can't not follow him. Every moment with Harrison Ashe is another moment for the memory banks.
He leads me to a vacant meeting room and ushers me inside, closing the door behind us. The room is dark and small, with only a round table and two chairs. It's clearly intended for private discussions or studying. We don't have any books, but it's as private as we need for this conversation.
He blocks the door with his big body, his hands on his hips, his head down. His shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes. Finally, he raises his head and looks at me, his eyes dark pools that I could easily drown in. “Why are you leaving, Ivy?”
“I told you?—”
“You didn't tell me anything.”
“It's complicated.”
“No it's not. I love you, Ivy.”
The words crash into me like a wave, soaking through my skin and sinking into my bones. Love? My mind churns, thoughts scattering like stars across the night sky. “Harrison, I...”I blink at him, my resolve melting faster than ice cream on hot asphalt.
He reaches up and caresses my jawline with his thumb. His head tilts slightly as his eyes follow path of this thumb.
I should push away, leave this room, and go through with my plan. But instead, I find myself leaning into him, my hands flattening on his solid chest. “I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that,”I whisper, and it's like admitting a secret I didn't even know I was keeping. “I love you, too.”
His gaze flicks up to mine. “Then stay,”he says, simple and direct, as if it's the easiest decision in the world.
“How? What about your job?”
“We'll figure it out,”he promises, pulling me firmly against him.
And just like that, I'm lost—lost in the scent of his cologne, the strength of his embrace, and the promise in his eyes. All my reasons for leaving evaporate as I melt into him, my arms winding around his neck. I press my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, letting it soothe the turmoil in mine.
“Okay,”I murmur against his shirt, feeling his heartbeat quicken. “Okay, I'll stay.”It's reckless and wild, but maybe it's the start of something incredible.
“Are you sure?”Harry's voice is raspy, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. “I don't want you to leave, but I won't force you to stay for me either. If you really want to go, I'll find a way to say goodbye.”
“Yes, I'm finally sure,”I breathe out, my hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt as I forget where we are, revealing the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips.
He groans as I trace the hard lines of his chest, pulling me closer until there's no air left that isn't filled with the heat of him. We're a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses, every touch like kindling hungrily licking up the tiniest of flames aimed to set my blood on fire.
“I love you, Harrison.”His name falls from my lips like a prayer as he lifts me onto the cool surface of the table behind me.
“Say it again,”he demands, and I do before he deepens the kiss, making me believe we really can make this work.