13. Blake
13
BLAKE
I can’t take my eyes off of her tonight.
I thought the pencil skirts were my thing, the way they show off her legs and ass. But then seeing her in her comfortable state, the way she dresses when there’s no one to impress? That was an entirely different side of her, and a side I’d like to get to know better.
It didn’t hurt that she had a hole right in the crotch of her pants. I considered not mentioning it, but I remember how I felt when I got called out for my fly being down.
Besides, I didn’t know whether she was planning to wear that to dinner and figured she should know. I wouldn’t have cared if she wore her comfortable clothes to dinner. I’m not into her for her clothes .
Wait. Scratch that. I like her as a friend . This isn’t a real relationship. We’re on the same page here. I can appreciate her assets without needing to involve feelings.
And I do enjoy those assets. Objectively, Kat is beautiful. It’s not a secret. She’s known as the Hot Professor among the undergrads, a fact that she must be aware of, even if she doesn’t talk about it.
The dress she has on now is not only impossible to look away from, but it also makes me wonder if she’s wearing the same lace underwear I caught a glimpse of, or something else. The dress hugs every curve, highlighting her hips and breasts and other areas my fingers are itching to explore.
Is she even wearing underwear? I can’t see panty lines when I check out her ass—yes, I’ve done it more than once—but I know she’s partial to thongs, or she was the one night we were together.
Besides stoking my curiosity about what’s under it, the color of her dress complements her, offsetting her hazel eyes while bringing out the pink in her cheeks and making her light-brown hair appear almost chestnut in color.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
I wonder if maybe I fucked myself over with this fake-dating thing. It seemed like a good idea at the time, and so far, it’s having the intended effect—keeping Randi away from me and Adam away from her, while protecting our reputations and her promotion.
But at the same time, it’s putting me through hell. Because the one woman I can’t stop thinking about is the one I can’t have.
I park the truck in a pay-by-the-hour lot, a rip-off if there ever was one, but infinitely easier than trying to find on-street parking at this hour. Opening Kat’s door for her, I hold out my arm, and she takes it, steadying herself as she steps down from the truck.
“Where are we going to dinner?” she asks, looking around the area.
Sliding my hand down to cover hers, I gesture with my head and start walking. “Modern Mex. It’s one of my favorite places, and if you’re looking for tacos and margaritas, you can’t beat them.”
Kat mentioned she was in the mood for tacos. These are the best in the city.
“Do they have the fruity ones?”
“Oh, do they. Strawberry, mango, raspberry, pretty much anything you can think of. Trust me, you’ll never find one that lives up to these.”
I hold open the restaurant door. Inside, we follow the hostess to the table .
Kat looks around, taking in the place as we walk. The lights are low, the music just loud enough to create the perfect ambiance without overshadowing conversations. The scent of spiced meat and salsa wafts through the air.
“God, it smells amazing,” she says. “All of a sudden I’m starving.”
I chuckle. “Same. I could go for some chips and salsa.”
Nodding, Kat slides into the booth and thanks the hostess as she hands over the menus.
As soon as the hostess leaves, Kat opens the menu and flips through. “What would you recommend?”
“You can’t go wrong. I’m going with a mango margarita and a burrito. And chips and salsa.”
She ends up ordering tacos and a raspberry margarita, and we munch on chips while we wait.
“So. What are your thoughts about the curriculum for this class?” Kat digs a legal pad out of her purse.
I shake my head. “Not yet. Let’s enjoy the margaritas and then work on it. Plus, I want to know more about you.”
I’m not lying. I’m burning to learn more about her now. I thought I had a handle on who she was after the last few weeks of lunches in the student union— organized, on top of things, an alpha female. Takes no shit.
But seeing her home and just how different it is from the image she presents to the world at work—not to mention the ripped leggings and the spilled seltzer I almost stepped on in the living room—I’m realizing there’s a lot more to this woman than I thought. And damn if I don’t want to know more.
It strikes me that she hides that part of herself from most of the world. I’d imagine there are very few people she lets into the sanctity of her home and into that side of herself.
And fuck if I don’t feel lucky to be one of them.
Her dark-red lips wrap around the straw of her margarita, her cheeks hollowing out as she sips the frozen concoction. What I’d give to have her lips wrapped around something else entirely.
Kat swallows and darts her tongue out to lick a drip of margarita from the corner of her mouth. “What do you want to know?”
I pick out a chip from the basket in the center of the table, dip it in salsa, and bring it to my mouth, chewing and swallowing as I think. I want to know a lot of things, but a lot of them cross the line from a business arrangement to something else.
“What made you want to teach? Why Anatomy? ”
Her lips quirk to one side with a small smile, and I wonder what it would be like to kiss those full lips again, as more than a onetime thing.
“I originally wanted to go to medical school, but while I was taking biology classes as an undergrad, I became fascinated with how the body works. The human body, mostly, but also different animals, and how their anatomy works differently from ours.” She takes another sip of her drink. “And I worked as a TA for a few lab sessions to bring in some money and found I was good at teaching. I liked seeing students’ faces when things suddenly clicked.”
“Makes sense. I had a similar experience.” I decide to keep this conversation on the lighter side, at least for now. Until the alcohol starts to loosen her lips. “Where did you go to undergrad?”
“University of Virginia.”
“Impressive. How about grad school?”
Kat chews on her straw. “Harvard.”
“Ivy League. Damn.” I raise my glass toward her. “You might be out of my league, Kat.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve read your faculty profile, Blake. You went to Penn for grad school. It’s quite literally the same league.”
I laugh. “You’ve got me there. But you’re still playing the game at a whole different level than I am.”
By the time the waitress sets the food down, I’ve learned even more about Kat. She grew up in Virginia, on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. She’s an only child.
“How about your parents?” I ask, reaching for a fork. “Are they still around?”
“Yes,” Kat says, her eyes on her food.
Something about the way she says it makes me wonder if there’s more to the story, but I don’t have time to ask before she’s moving the conversation forward.
“How about you? Any siblings?”
“I have a brother. Lawton. He lives out in Colorado.”
“Ah. The coffee table book.”
My heart warms a bit at the thought that she remembers seeing that on our first night together.
I nod. “We actually grew up in Chester Heights, though. Not too far from here. I love eastern Pennsylvania, so I was glad to get the job at Ardmore.”
Kat bites into her taco, some of the filling spilling out the other side. “Oh, God, this is good. You were right.”
“Told you. Just wait till dessert. We’ll get the churros. They’re out of this world.”
We chew in silence for a little bit .
When Kat takes the last bite of her taco, she wipes the edges of her mouth with the napkin. “So what about your parents? Do they still live around here?”
And there it is. I knew this would come up when I asked about her parents, but I was still hoping I wouldn’t have to talk about it.
It’s not lost on me that Kat avoided this question, too. I wonder if we have more in common than I’ve realized.
“No.” I shake my head and take a sip of my margarita. “They’re not around anymore.”
“I’m so sorry,” Kat says, the way most people do, assuming that them “not being around” means they’re both dead.
She reaches her hand out to cover mine in a gesture of sympathy. I don’t correct her assumption about my parents.
Because as far as I’m concerned, my mother may as well be dead. She pulled away from Lawton and me after Dad’s cancer took him from us back when I was in high school.
At first, we let her have her grief, but she never came back to herself, just getting more and more distant, to the point that I stepped in to act as a surrogate parent for Lawton.
Recently, she’s been sending a card for my birthday and for Christmas, but that’s as much as I’ve gotten from her. I’ve never asked Lawton if he’s in touch with her. I’m not sure I want to know.
“Thanks.” I squeeze her hand gently.
“Any dessert tonight?” the waitress asks, interrupting the moment.
Our hands fall apart, and I try to regain control of the situation.
“I was thinking churros,” I say, looking at Kat. “Do you want to split some?”
“Um. Sure.” She takes a sip of her drink, nearing the bottom of the margarita.
I’ve never seen her look so uncertain, and it’s reassuring in a way. It means I’m not the only one affected by our connection.
But the very fact that she brought up my parents reminded me of one crucial fact—I’m not looking for a relationship. It’s just not in the cards for me.
Sex, sure.
Dating, maybe, at least for a little while.
Fake dating to reach a goal, absolutely.
Just nothing real and nothing long-term. Maybe my friends think they have something that will last, but I know the truth. Relationships end, one way or another, and I’ve seen the fallout when it does.
It’s not something I want to experience. Ever.
As soon as I climb back into the truck after dropping Kat off at her house, I dial Lawton’s number, the phone connecting through the Bluetooth in the car. The talk about parents over dinner has me needing to talk with him, to remind myself that I’m not alone in the world.
“Hey. What’s up?” His familiar voice coming across the car speakers calms me somewhat.
“Not much. How are things out there?”
There’s a slight hesitation before he says, “They’re okay. Things with Kristina are…interesting.”
I’d always rather hear about someone else’s relationship drama than deal with my own. “Yeah? What’s going on?”
Lawton and his long-time girlfriend moved out to Colorado when he took a job as a police officer up there. I always thought he was crazy for taking a job like that when he could have made more money as a cop here in Philadelphia, but he loves it up there.
“I don’t think she’s settling in as much as she thought she would. She’s still struggling to find a job, and breaking into the social circles of a small town is hard, you know? I have built-in buddies from the force, but she doesn’t have anyone but me.” Lawton lets out a long sigh. “I’m worried she’s going to leave, man.”
His crisis overshadows mine, and I’m more than happy to spend most of my drive back home analyzing things Kristina has said or done and what she means by it and if it means anything that she refuses to buy a better coat for winter.
“I think it means she has no intention of being up here by the time winter comes,” Lawton says, sounding dejected.
I agree, but I play the devil’s advocate. I always have when it comes to me and Lawton. We debate both sides equally.
“Maybe she just hasn’t found one she likes.”
“Maybe.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “How are things with you? Settling into your job?”
“Yeah, it’s—”
“Wait a minute!” Lawton interrupts. “Hold on. What about the girlfriend? The one you told me about?”
I did tell him about it. I wish I could tell him the truth, dissect all of it with him, but it’s too risky with his big mouth.
“It’s good. We went out to dinner tonight.” And didn’t talk about the curriculum once, for what it’s worth, which means we’re meeting tomorrow in my office. “I can’t wait for you to meet her at Cam’s wedding.”
“I hope I can still come,” he says. “What if I’m right and Kristina leaves? Do I just show up alone?”
“Addie can hook you up with Annika. I hear she needs a date.”
“Maybe.”
I pull into my driveway and kill the engine. “I’m home now, Lawton. Got to go. I’ll call you soon. Keep me updated on the Kristina situation.”
“Will do.” He disconnects the call.
I sit in my truck, thinking. About Kat and the way she looked tonight. About the hitch in her breath and the hard nipples and dilated pupils that tell me she’s interested in more. About just how badly I want to have her in my bed, taste her sweetness that I can’t get out of my head, fuck her until she can’t remember anyone’s name but mine.
But beyond the obvious—fake dating and complicating all of that, not to mention the coworker status—it wouldn’t work. Kat and I may be attracted to one another, but she and I would never be compatible long-term. She’s too used to being the one in control, taking charge.
And in my bedroom, I’m the one in control. Maybe she was okay with it for one night, but in the long run? I’m not sure I can see Kat being okay with that, and it’s not something I can turn off.
So for now, I’ll settle for thinking of her in that little red dress, the feel of her body pressed against mine when I gave her that hug that I desperately wished could be more.