Chapter 14
ASHER
Getting the book for her was stupid. But I couldn’t help it. The look she’d had on her face when she’d been admiring it and hadn’t known anyone was watching her was one of pure wonder. It was clearly a story she loved, and the edition was beautiful.
Writing in the book was even more stupid. I’m not sure what I was thinking. Comparing Summer to Gatsby’s green light felt so corny and like such a bad idea. What was I thinking?
Summer basically sprints down the hall after me as I make my way toward my office. “Why did you give me that book?” she demands.
I shrug, quickening my stride and refusing to look at her. “I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps back. “Why did you give me this?” She practically thrusts the book in my face as she follows me. I turn the corner and can see the door to my office as Summer continues to hound me. “Are you really just going to ignore me?”
“Trying to,” I mutter back.
I push the door to my office open and am prepared to let it swing shut on Summer, but she catches it and follows me inside, slamming it behind her.
I drop my bag by my desk, hoping that if I continue to ignore her, she’ll eventually just take the hint and leave.
She crosses her arms and taps her foot, waiting for me to acknowledge her.
When I don’t, she shakes her head. “No, I’m sorry, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just randomly give me gifts and write notes to me and then refuse to tell me why.”
“I already told you. I don’t have a better answer for you, no matter how badly you want one,” I grumble.
She steps toward me and shoves the book into my chest, forcing me to take it from her. “Then I don’t want this,” she snaps.
She spins on her heel and is halfway to the door before I say, “I don’t know why I got it for you!
” She stops and slowly turns back to look at me.
“It was probably a bad idea, but… the way you were looking at it in the bookstore… I could tell how much you loved the story based on that single look. You left the bookstore, and I just couldn’t leave it there.
I wanted to see the smile you’d make when you got it. ”
“I didn’t smile,” she says hesitantly.
“No, you didn’t,” I respond quietly, though I offer her a small smile of my own.
“I love the gift,” she says quickly, as if afraid I had thought otherwise.
“I’m glad.”
“But I don’t love the note,” she adds. I feel my eyebrows scrunch as I look at her.
I’m still holding the book in my hands, and I resist the urge to flip it open to look at the note I scrawled within the pages.
“That wasn’t some romantic gesture,” she continues.
I can feel an amused grin start to play across my lips, and her eyes narrow in frustration.
“Gatsby’s green light isn’t romantic,” she insists.
“It represents Gatsby’s unattainable dream.
You’re…” she trails off, sounding unsure of herself.
“Go on,” I urge softly.
“You’re saying that I’m some unattainable thing you’ll always be chasing.”
I don’t say anything.
“Do you really believe that?” she asks, no louder than a whisper.
“You’re my student,” I murmur, believing that that is explanation enough.
“I won’t always be your student,” she says slowly.
My heart skips a beat at her words. I know she won’t always be my student.
Obviously, I know that. But even if a student isn’t actively in your class, it’s still frowned upon to start a relationship with one.
Neither of us would get in trouble, but I’m sure we’d both be judged by our peers.
Summer, more so than me, solely for the fact that she’s a woman, and people will assume she tried to sleep her way to the top.
That is the last thing I want for her. Even just thinking that some people would think that of her makes my blood boil.
Summer is an extremely hard worker. She goes above and beyond on every single assignment, and I can tell by the way she writes her essays that she is incredibly smart.
I would never let my feelings cloud my judgment when grading.
Not only would it not be in my character to cheat that way, but it wouldn’t be fair to Summer to boost her grade.
I can tell by the way she writes her assignments that she wants to be the best child therapist that she can be.
Raising her grades because of how I feel for her would do her a disservice, one that I can already tell would piss her off.
She wants to help kids, and she can’t do that to the best of her abilities if someone is fudging her grades.
Summer shifts her weight, drawing my attention back to her. “I know that,” I finally say. “But it’s not a good idea.” Her shoulders seem to deflate, but she nods in understanding. I hold the book back out to her. “But I do want you to keep this. Unromantic note be damned.”
She laughs at that and reaches out to take the book from me.
Her fingers graze mine, and she stops, looking up at me.
Her brown eyes catch the light shining in from my window and turn the color of my favorite whiskey.
As the book slips from my fingers, I let my hand grasp hers for just a moment, just long enough to trail my thumb across her knuckles.
I hear her take a small, surprised inhale.
I immediately curse myself at her reaction. My words don’t match my actions, and that’s not fair. I just can’t help myself.