Chapter 21 Leni
Leni
Iskipped classes on Thursday to drive Luca and Willow to the airport.
Saying goodbye to my best friend sucked, especially because I still haven’t confided in her about who my mystery masked stranger is.
I’d love to get her hot take on everything, but I don’t want Luca finding out. I can’t risk it getting back to Dylan.
It’s over. It has to be because Ethan’s leaving. I only wish my body would get the memo, because I still feel the ghost of his touch and it’s leaving me hot and bothered twenty-four-seven. The way he set me alight with his fingers and his tongue—
“Are you okay?” Nora asks, shocking me from my thoughts and causing me to spill orange juice all over the kitchen bench.
I mutter a curse and reach for a cloth to clean up the sticky mess.
“Your face has gone all red and splotchy,” my sister says, studying me carefully.
“I’m fine.”
“You look like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t,” Esme adds, popping a grape in her mouth and giving me a suspicious side-eye.
“I was not,” I say a little too quickly as I duck my head and concentrate on not making an even bigger mess as I scrub at the orange juice.
Nora narrows her eyes. “Then why do you look so flushed?”
Esme giggles. “Were you having spicy daydreams about the gardener’s son? He’s so freaking hot. I’d let him trim my bushes.”
“I was not having spicy anything,” I snap, wishing the floor would open and swallow me whole. “Geez, Esme, you’re thirteen. You shouldn’t even know what that means.”
“She’s gone redder,” Esme says to Nora, ignoring me. “She was totally having inappropriate thoughts about someone.”
“Totally,” Nora agrees with a smirk.
“Oh. My. God. Would you two stop it.” I toss the cloth in the sink and take a large gulp of my drink in an effort to ease the flames burning through me.
“Tell us who he is,” Esme presses.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Nora teases.
Esme scoffs a laugh. “She hasn’t had one of those in years. Not since—”
“Enough!” I don’t need reminders of Dylan when I’m daydreaming about all the dirty things his dad did to me. “Will you two quit it?”
“Someone’s touchy,” Esme mutters, grabbing Nora by the arm and pulling her out of the kitchen.
I slump against the bench. Ethan is off-limits, and I need to move on.
Tuesday night was nothing more than goodbye.
Besides, it’s not like I’m going to run into him on campus again.
My next creative writing class isn’t until next Tuesday, and surely Professor Johnson will be better by then.
Plus, with Luca and Willow gone, I won’t be dragged to any soccer games.
I’ve gone four years without interacting with my ex’s dad.
I’m sure the next three months will be no different.
So why does that thought make my insides feel like I’ve just stepped off a cliff and the ground is rushing up at me?
“What’s the matter with you?”
I straighten when my mother walks into the kitchen with my stepfather.
“Just missing Willow,” I choke out, my fingers tightening around my glass.
Mum huffs. “That girl is a bad influence, sleeping with her stepbrother under their parents’ roof like that. It’s disturbing.”
What’s disturbing is the way her husband ogles me when she says that, and I’m suddenly uncomfortable ignoring the spicy thoughts I’m sure he’s having right now.
“Whatever,” I mutter, moving to leave the room.
“We need you to look after the girls this weekend,” she says before I escape. “Roger is taking me to the spa.”
Ew, gross.
“Amazing,” I say with a forced smile. “Have a great time.”
“You’ll need to pick them up from school tomorrow.
They have horse riding lessons at eight on Saturday, and dance at one.
They’ll need you to take them shopping for Jessica’s birthday present in between because her disco party starts at five.
I want them picked up by nine. Make sure they have something nice to wear.
Just put it on the emergency credit card.
Then tennis lessons at midday on Sunday, and make sure they practise their instruments for at least an hour. ”
Perfect. Exactly how I wanted to spend my weekend.
“Sure thing, Mum. Anything else?”
She eyes me warily. “What are you up to?”
I put my acting skills to great use, perfecting my innocent look as I blink at her. “Nothing. Just trying to be helpful.”
She purses her lips. “No guests over while we’re gone. We don’t need you corrupting your sisters.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say. Though after Esme’s comments, it sounds like they don’t need any help in that department.
“Right, well we’re leaving around lunchtime tomorrow, and getting back at some stage on Monday. Keep your phone on you in case we don’t make it back in time to pick the girls up from school.”
“Will do.” With another fake smile, I finally escape to my bedroom, closing the door behind me. Only three more months and I’ll be out of here. I can’t wait.
The plus side to running around after my sisters all weekend is I’m too busy to be totally consumed by thoughts of a certain sexy professor, though that doesn’t stop me from touching myself at night, only to be left completely unsatisfied when my fingers and toys don’t get the job done half as well as the man himself.
I resort to watching the video he sent me, which results in me feeling even more pathetic.
Why can’t I just move on? Ethan had no intention of taking things further, even before he knew who I was.
I wasn’t enough for him. He’d already decided to leave Beckford before we had sex.
I need to accept that even though he gave in to his primal desires when I went to his house last week, nothing I did was going to be enough to make him want me for more than a rebound fuck.
A way for him to move on from his ex. Though as much as I keep telling myself that, something in my gut won’t let me walk away.
It’s why I’ve opened our DM thread no less than twenty times this weekend, typed out at least fifteen messages, which I promptly deleted, and even went as far as to write an email to Professor Johnson enquiring about his health, which is thankfully still sitting in my drafts.
Like I said, pathetic.
I put a little more effort into my appearance on Tuesday morning and arrive at my creative writing lecture fifteen minutes early, proceeding to pace back and forth nervously until the room empties from the previous lecture and I can get a seat front and centre.
Amy arches a brow and makes a beeline for me when she spots me. This is the only class we share, and since I skipped our tutorial last week, she hasn’t had the chance to grill me over what Coach Rourke wanted to see me about.
Boy, would she blush if she knew everything.
“Since when do we sit in the front row?” she asks with a smirk as she drops into the vacant seat next to me.
I shrug and search my bag for a pen to take notes.
When I don’t reply, she continues, unperturbed. “What happened to you last week? You never showed up for class.”
“Something came up. A family thing.”
She grins and elbows me. “Okay, then. So, spill. What did Coach Hottie want to see you about?”
“Just my assignment.” It’s a half-truth, but she doesn’t need to know any more.
Her face drops. “Boring.”
“Yep,” I reply with a forced laugh. “Super boring.”
“Have you heard if Professor Johnson is back yet? My friend is in his Monday class, and she said she had Professor Snowden yester—”
Hope stirs in my gut, and I stop listening to her when the door to the lecture theatre opens and Ethan walks in.
His whiskey eyes find me straight away and my heart picks up speed as I drink him in like an alcoholic.
He smiles subtly before dragging his gaze around the filling theatre as he strides towards the lectern.
“Score,” Amy leans in and whispers. “I’ll listen to a lecture on romance in books from Coach Hottie any day.”
Wait… what? I really need to keep up to date with the syllabus. Sure enough, when Ethan clears his throat and starts talking, the slide on the screen reads: Love, Power, and Longing: Themes of Romance in Contemporary Fiction and Poetry.
My stomach flips.
Seriously?
I’m being lectured on themes of romance by a professor I’ve had sex with.
How is this my life?
“In literature,” Ethan begins, his voice low and composed while I’m silently dying inside, “romance isn’t just about love stories or happy endings. It’s about power, vulnerability, and identity. It’s about what people are willing to risk for connection.”
I blink too fast and look down at my notebook in an attempt to get my libido in check, because fuck me, if hearing Ethan talk about connection isn’t getting me hot and bothered.
It’s this sensation I get every time I’m in the same room as him, this unexplainable connection that makes me feel seen.
Not just in terms of my naked body, but to the core of who I really am.
He continues talking, but I’m lost in my memories from last week. It wasn’t what we did, but the way he was with me. His deliberate touch, the way he said my name—my real name—like it meant something. There was something real in the unspoken promises in his kisses.
“Some of the most compelling romantic narratives aren’t about being in love but about wanting love. It’s about the ache that comes with longing, and the choices characters make when they know they can’t—or shouldn’t—act on it.”
His eyes flick to me for the briefest second.
I can’t breathe.
Amy leans in and whispers, “Okay, damn. I didn’t expect Coach Hottie to get all literary about heartbreak, but I am here for it.”
I nod, unable to speak as he goes on about the authors whose work we’re exploring in our tutorials this afternoon.
How can he stand up there with a straight face and talk about us without talking about us? Especially after he was the one whispering, “We shouldn’t,” as he kissed me breathless. How is he not affected like I am?
Feeling like I need to even the score, I pull out my phone, angling it away from Amy as I open the Euphoria app and click on my DMs.
@daring_devil: I know you’re leaving, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.
He glances down at his smartwatch before flicking his gaze to me. I know he can’t reply in the middle of a lecture, but the small glances he keeps throwing my way while he talks give me a boost of confidence. He’s not completely unaware of whatever this is between us.
I’m sick of overthinking. We’re both consenting adults, and we know this has an expiry date, so why can’t we have some fun before we both leave? If we’re both going into this with our eyes wide open, no one will get hurt.
I decide to throw caution to the wind and have a little fun. If it gets me what I want, then even better. I type out anther message.
@daring_devil: Are you deliberately trying to get me worked up, sir?
I bite my lip to suppress my smile when he stumbles over his words, forcing his eyes to remain on his notes. He rubs the back of his neck as he reads aloud from a poem about the undoing of personal boundaries.
@daring_devil: I’m really interested in exploring some personal boundaries with you.
@daring_devil: Do you think you could give me some extra tutoring after this lecture?