10. Konnor #2
“Have a good look around.” I tuck my hands into my pockets and lean on my heels, rock slightly and wait. “Does this help?” I raise my hand. More chuckles. Most of the lads point a single finger in the air, too cool to raise their hands, while a few girls let their hands peek in the air.
Then Blesk.
Daring—
That hand best be for me.
“So about eighty percent of you want to have sex with someone in this room. Put a pin in that feeling. I was a first-year student only four years ago, I know what it is like, but don’t make me embarrass any of you by calling it out, and I will.
I’m an easy guy to deal with. I’m just here to guide you through the text.
” I pace back and forth in front of them, finding it easier to talk when I’m on the move.
“One of the most important things to remember about this class is that I’m not a music major.
I am a PhD student in Education. You probably know more than I do about general music theory.
I’m here to help you work through what your lecturer wants you to know.
She teaches.” I halt in the centre of the room and smirk.
“I’m just a peer with the answers to your tests. ”
For the next twenty minutes, I review the course outline, what is expected, and how the marks are broken up.
My students vary in age and attitude, but most of them seem eager and interested in what I have to say.
And I want them all to succeed—it looks good for me if they do—even the dickheads eyeball-fucking Blesk.
I try not to look at her, but I can’t stop myself. She sits at the edge of her chair, fingers fidgeting with a pen, eyes focused intently on the sheets in front of her.
“Right.” I click to a new slide, explaining the first assignment so I can get this part over with so I can speak to Blesk. “You’ll need to choose a piece of music and analyse how it makes you feel. Not technically, but emotionally.”
A hand shoots up from a guy in the back. “So we just write about our feelings?”
“Pretty much, but it’s not a diary entry. It’s academic.” I glance at Blesk again. She’s scribbling notes, her blonde ponytail swaying behind her. “Music affects us all differently.” I stop at Blesk’s chair. “Miss Bellamy.”
Her eyes lift to me, widening on my face.
“Do you mind if I pull you away for a moment?”
She blinks, then nods. “Ah, yes, of course.”
I hold my hand out, and she goes ahead of me, smoothing her shirt-dress down her stomach as she goes.
Once outside, I close the door behind us and wait with my back to her, mind churning with what to say, how to make it right…
She giggles softly. “Did you just pull rank on me for personal reasons, Mr Slater?”
I turn to face her. “Blesk, I’m so sorry.” It comes out before I can think about it. Fuck.
She sucks a sharp breath in. “Konnor, you don’t owe me anything. You don’t need—"
“I told her to leave.” I don’t recognise my voice, but I need her to know that I feel as though I do owe her.
“Right after you left.” I take two steps towards her when she lowers her gaze to the ground between us.
“I couldn’t do that in front of you. I know I’m a dickhead, but I couldn’t embarrass her like that.
I ended it.” I wait, expecting something.
Fireworks? A smile? Did I expect her to just fall into my arms?
I step towards her again. “I ended it. It wasn’t love; it wasn’t even like.
But I still owed her a private moment at the end.
I’m sorry. I just need you to know that wasn’t me.
Not normally. It was a bad day, and I drank too much. ”
“Konnor.” Her eyes find mine again, and a small smile touches her lips. “It’s okay. Thank you, but it’s okay.”
Thank you?
I ended it.
For you, Blesk.
You did get that, right?
I try not to focus on her nonchalance. I rest my hand on her waist and walk her back until her shoulders meet the brick wall. Pink rises in both her cheeks at once—somewhere between startled and something better.
I put both palms flat on the wall beside her head. Leaning down, I hold her gaze. “So, who was that hand for earlier? You want to sleep with someone in that class?”
She arches a brow. “Is that on the test?”
“It’s on my test.”
“It was for the cute blonde guy,” she teases.
I spear the inside of my mouth with my tongue to stop from sneering. “Don’t mess with me.”
“Why? Will you fail him?”
“Fail him. Break his hands. The usual stuff.”
She giggles softly. “Don’t I deserve something more creative than the usual stuff?”
I smile. Fuck, she’s cute. “Creative? I’ll rearrange his face. Make it a real Picasso for you.” Speaking of faces I want to rearrange… Jax. My voice comes out deeper and rougher than intended as I say, “Where are you going with Jax tonight?”
Her lips part. Her chest rises and falls. My eyes drop to her mouth. When she licks her lower lip, I have to look away, or I swear I’ll run my tongue along that plump lip before I can stop myself, and no way is that appropriate.
“We’re just friends,” she finally says, “going for a drink.”
I smirk. “He doesn’t want to be just friends.”
"And why does that matter to you? You had a girlfriend until last night.” She is breathing hard, her voice holding a challenge, a playful edge.
My lips touch her ear. “It matters, Blesk. I can feel it in my chest. How much it matters.”
A thick silence fills the space between us, and it’s anything but comfortable. My heart is racing. Her pulse is fluttering in her neck.
This space between us—sucks. I wish there were no space between us at all. I wish I could feel her breasts against my chest. I wish my lips were on hers. Wish I could taste her tongue. I’m only inches away from her, but those inches are the difference between me and her—and us.
What is she thinking?
Does she want me to kiss her?
Her hands are flat against the wall by her thighs, fingers flexing and unflexing against the bricks.
Her cheeks are pink, the skin on her throat prickles, and before I can stop myself, I’m pressing my mouth to her neck.
Warm. Blesk. I feel her heart’s rhythm against my lips, a moan vibrating in her throat, her body pressing into me...
In. To. Me. Fuck. My head gets dizzy as my blood finds a more commanding place to reside.
She is just as responsive to me as I am to her and that’s not something that just happens.
The kind of thing that makes me think some shit isn't random.
I force myself away from her. “Fuck.”
Neither of us moves.
I clear my throat and check the empty courtyard. “Don’t go tonight. I’m insanely jealous. Hang out with me instead.”
She exhales. Her hands release the bricks. “Okay.”
“Really?”
She giggles once. “Yes. Really.”
I mentally fist pump the air. “Alright.” I drag a hand through my hair and nod towards the door. “Go in first. I, ah—” I clear my throat. “Need a minute.”
Her tongue darts out as she giggles, and I glance away because that tongue is not helping my semi. She walks inside. I wait for the blood to return to my brain.
I stride into class.
The hour disappears. I run through the rest of the material on autopilot, calling on students, fielding questions, clicking through slides. After the last student files out, I gather the activity sheets into a stack, tap them flat against the desk, and set them in Cathy’s tray. I lock the cabinet.
Then I walk home to get ready for tonight, not planning on drinking, keeping myself sober is the smart decision… Or maybe just one to loosen me up.