by Nicci Harris
I feel my back tighten between my shoulders, and I think I unintentionally growl. Blesk looks stunned. Her eyes widen when his lips touch her skin, and then, for the first time today, she looks straight at me. My cheek muscles dance beneath my skin. I open my mouth while our eyes are locked hard on each other, but before I can speak, a sea of other students washes between us, and surges into the classroom.
He kissed her, but she looked at me. Her eyes went to me.
She likes me.
I inhale a big breath, and then exhale it slowly, calming myself. I nod at her and trail my students into the class room where I meander to the front and place my cases on the desk.
My heart pounds in my chest so I shuffle papers around before trying to speak. When I look up and search the room, everyone is pulling chairs out from the stacks and placing them around in front of me. It is small class; 17 students. It’s apparent some of them know each other, and some don’t know anyone. Blesk is in the latter.
Whether it’s an instinct based on my own personality or not, I’m not sure, but I can pick out the players straight away.
A few of the boys have positioned themselves beside her, and she offers them a shy girlie half-smile.
I want to tell her that won’t help.
I can't exactly blame them for noticing her. She is gorgeous, unassumingly so.
“Right-o,” I say as chairs are still being shuffled around. “My friends call me Slater.” All eyes are on me as the students’ movements have almost completely ceased. “So, you can call me Konnor.” I hear a mixture of masculine chortles and sweet giggles.
Time for my ice breaker.
“Firstly,” I can’t help but chuckle as the next sentence leaves my lips, “who in this room wants to sleep with someone else in this room?” The girls erupt into fits of giggles, and the guys glance awkwardly at each other “Raise your hand if you want to have sex with someone in this room?” I say. No one moves.
“Okay, okay, you don’t need to tell me who, but have a good look around and then raise your hand.” I wait patiently while they look around at each other, but no one raises their hand. “Does this help?” I ask, raising my own hand. More girlie giggles fill the room.
No, not you.
Most of the boys and a few of the girls raise their hands. Blesk does as well.
Daring… that hand best be for me.
“So about 80 percent of you want to have sex with someone in this room.” I pinch my thumb and index finger together, pretending to hold an invisible pin. “Now do me a favour; put a pin in that feeling. I know what first-year university is like. Put a pin in it, at least until after class." They all laugh now, including Blesk. And now I’m smiling like a Cheshire cat, cause I made her laugh.
“I’m a cruisey guy. I am just here to guide you. The idea of this class is to teach you how to teach your passion—music—to kids.” 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. 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.”
Everyone chuckles again. When they quiet down, I begin to wander in front of them. “This class is more about teaching music to students than about music itself.” I grab a pile of unit outlines from my desk, and hand them to the students in the front row.
“Pass them back. I know some of you will have taken the initiative and printed this out prior. Some of you are lazy, and some of you don’t have printers. I don’t know who fits into which category… yet. But I will soon.” More chuckles.
“Konnor?” I hear a guy call out.
I nod at him. “Yep?”
“Do you mark the assignments or does Mrs Kale?”
I laugh. “Are you trying to figure out how much you need to suck up to me?” Then I watch as he gazes around the room while other students snicker, and a low glow touches his cheeks.
“Maybe,” he says honestly.
I address the class as if the question were universal. “Your assignments and tests are all distributed randomly among three grad students, including me and Mrs Kale. I turn my attention back to the student who asked the question. “To answer you, possibly. And . . . you’ll never know.”
For the next twenty minutes I review the course outline, what is expected, and how the marks are broken up. My students are varied in age and demeanour, but most of them seem eager and interested in what I have to say. Teaching is my absolute life. I want them all to succeed.
When I ask the class to get into four groups by dividing the room into quadrants with my hands. I can’t help but put Blesk with the two lads I noticed eyeing her. I give them a task; as a team, I ask them to tell me what they want to get out of this class. I promise them I will try to make it happen. Blesk is sitting with her long voluptuous legs crossed elegantly in front of her, rocking her leg back and forth, and clicking her pen. The thickness of her thigh on top is perfect, and I swallow hard, imagining my hand gripping her soft skin and feeling tiny goose bumps break out because she wants me to touch her as much as I want to. I meander over to her group, and all three of them stare up at me as I approach.
“Hey,” I say, offering my hand for one of the lads to shake, “Konnor.”
He takes it with a smug look and shakes it. “Hi, Konnor. Matt.”
And then I hold my hand out for treble-maker number two. “Konnor.”
“Justin.” He takes my hand, grinning at me.
“Miss Bellamy,” I say, looking straight at her half-startled, half-smiling face. “Do you mind if I pull you away for a moment?”
She bats those long lashes at me for several seconds, “Ah, yes of course.”
I wave my hand towards the door. She stands and flattens her shirt-dress down her stomach before preceding me out of the room. Both boys ogle her flawless arse as she walks away, so I purposely catch their line-of-sight, lifting my brow at them knowingly. They shift their gaze around the room, their eyes feigning innocence.
I get it. She does have a spectacular arse.
“Did you just pull rank on me for personal reasons, Mr Slater?” she says through a forced smile once I close the door and block us from any prying eyes.
“Blesk, I’m so sorry.” The words just tumble out.
Her expression falls slightly.
She talks through a tight sad smile, “Konnor, you don’t owe me anyth—”
“I told her to leave,” I interrupt in a desperate tone I barely recognise. “I told her it’s over.”
When Blesk’s mouth opens, and she seems to hesitate, I can’t help but like her more. Pemberton always has some vicious retort.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I just want you to know, that isn’t me, not normally. That’s a weird day for me and I drank a lot more than I usually do.”
“Konnor,” her eyes narrow as she tries to smile, genuinely this time. “It’s okay, thank you, but it’s okay.” I put my hand on her waist and move her until her back meets the brick wall. Both cheeks redden. She looks shocked or excited, or perhaps both.
I put both palms flat on the wall next to her head, caging her in front of me. I lean down so I can stare her straight in the eyes.
“Where are you going with Drake tonight?” Her lips part and she’s sucking extra air in. Her chest rises and falls with more need. My eyes dart to her mouth to watch her tongue run along her lower lip, and I’m overwhelmed with the urge to taste that lip and that tongue.
“We’re just friends,” she finally says, snapping me out of my illusion, “going for a drink."
I shake my head with a smirk. “He doesn’t want to be just friends.”
Her chin tucks into her neck slightly, and her eyes peer up at me, so shy, so demure, so fucking perfect. “And why does that matter to you? You had a
girlfriend up until a few hours ago,” she breathes.
I lean my mouth down to brush her ear, and I inhale deeper when I smell her.
Peaches.
Her shoulder rolls when my breath hits her neck, and I absolutely love how flustered she is. “It matters, Blesk.”
Silence fills the space between us, and it’s anything but comfortable because my heart is racing, and I can see the flutter of her pulse beneath her skin. I wish there was no space between us at all. I wish my lips were on hers. I wish I could feel her breasts pushed against my chest. I wish I could taste her tongue. I’m only inches from her, but those inches are the difference between me and her… and us.
I wonder what she’s thinking. Her hands are flat against the wall by her thighs, desperately gripping the bricks. Her cheeks flush, and the skin on her throat prickles as my breath rushes down her chest. Before I can stop myself, I’m pressing my mouth to her neck, feeling her heart throbbing against my lips, a moan vibrating in her throat, her body pressing into me... Fuck. She is just as responsive to me as I am to her.
I force myself away from her. “Fuck.” We stare at each other, astonished by what just happened.
Clearing my throat, and taking a few calming breathes, I try to ignore a certain appendage that is now twitching in my pants. “Don’t go tonight,” I say breathlessly. “Hang out with me instead.”
She exhales, and her hands flex around the bricks at her side. “Okay."
I lift a brow at her. “Really?"
Her shoulders shake gently as she giggles, "Yes. Really."
“Well okay then. Ummm, Can you go in first.” I wave her in with a grin. “I need a few minutes.”
Her tongue peaks out between her lips and she laughs.
That tongue isn’t helping, Blesk.
At the end of class, I collect each group’s activity sheets for Cathy Kale to review. While I continue completing my menial tasks, I think about Blesk’s neck, her soft skin, her physical reaction to my lips on her throat. Her moan. How she rocked into me… Damn.
Calm down.
Think of something else…
I pack everything away and lock up, just as my phone buzzes inside my pocket. I grab it out and swipe to see the sender. Pemberton.
'Konnor, I’m sooo sorry please cum and see me. I’m not doing good.'
Her spelling is not lost on me. Ordinarily I’d hightail it over to see her, but I know her games. Pemberton uses sex as a way to command men, and for the most part, it works. She’s a damn drama queen, and I know if I go over there to check on her, she’ll be downing wine, and sobbing relentlessly. Then she’ll say or do something to get me riled up and start the kind of fight I can’t just walk away from. Blesk’s face is the only one I want to see. I ignore Pemberton’s text, drop off the paperwork in Cathy’s pigeonhole, and make my way to Blesk’s dorm.
I scruff up my hair and untuck my shirt in an attempt to make myself look less formal. The sun is beginning its descent toward the horizon, filling the sky with pinks and oranges. I wonder what Blesk’s favourite colour is. I wonder if she like sunsets…most girls do.
Lucky for me, I catch Drake in the quadrangle. “Dude,” I say.
“Slater, so how’d my girl go on her first day?” He smirks, provoking me.
I laugh. “Desperate Drake, it isn’t happening. This one’s not a game.”
He gives me the kind of grin that makes me want to cave his face in with my knuckles. “And what makes you think she wants what you have to offer?”
“She does.” I rattle that response out, feeling like crap for talking about her like that. “But it isn’t like that.”
“Pussy. What about Pemberton?” he asks.
“It’s over,” I state, expressionless. “That’s how much I need you to back off, Drake.”
He guffaws. “What does she have, bourbon-flavoured nipples or something?”
Right, because I’m an alcoholic… very clever, Drake, you bastard.
I’m extremely glad both my hands are tightly clutching cases or his face would be taking on a new shape. I shake my head at him warningly and fantasise about jabbing a case into his throat.
He smirks at me. “Can’t guarantee she won’t come to me.”
“I can guarantee she won’t,” I hiss.
He huffs. “Whoa, you work fast. Can’t keep up with you.”
I have nothing to say to that. I heave myself away.
“Slate!” He yells at my back. “Konnor! Seriously, what’s going on? Of course I’ll back off! Why are you acting like this?”
I don’t even know myself.
✽✽✽
Blesk is in a girl’s-only dorm, one of the last original dormitories on campus, small and only borderline legally sufficient in amenities. In saying that, the girl-only-tenant-rule gets my tick of approval. I approach room seventy-three and knock before adjusting my shirt, running my hands through my hair, and rolling my shoulders loose. The door swings open and a set of stern blue eyes hit me. A petite brunette stare at me in the same fashion someone who knows all my secrets might, and I feel immediately apprehensive.
Her eyes are so wide they almost pop out of her face. “Hey,” I say with a nod.
“Konnor?” She tilts her head. She steps back, and stares at me, her eyes scan every inch of me. I can’t help but laugh, hold my arms out to the side, and smirk while I do a little spin.
“All in check?” I ask, gesturing to myself. “Do I pass?”
She brightens. “Blesk,” she calls out. “Konnor’s here.”
“Hi, I’m Elise,” she waves at me, flapping her wrist awkwardly. I get the impression I make her nervous.
“Elise, pleasure is all mine, “I say, slapping on the charm. I stick both hands in my pockets and rock back and forth on my heels waiting to see Blesk. Then a vision-in-red steps out from behind Elise. Blesk smiles at me from under a little black side beanie, and my heart stops. Everything about her body says she is one of a kind: the way she holds it, the way she dresses it, and the way she clearly respects it. She has a regal sort of elegance, like a duchess.
Her blonde hair is swept to the side and dangles down her torso, splaying over her breasts. She twists from side to side, and as she does the hem of her red dress sways across her knees, making her look too sweet to be real. Even if I could design my perfect girl, Blesk would be superior in every possible way. She isn’t going to be happy about getting that dress dirty, though, but I can’t wait to see it stained. Little does she know. Elise is staring at me while I’m staring at Blesk, who is eyeing me from head to heel.
Is she checking me out?
“Blesk is my new best friend, Konnor,” Elise says to me, narrowing her eyes. “If you hurt her, I will beat you over the head with your own leg.” Not expecting that, I nearly choke on my laughter.
Fair enough.
I grin at her. “Which leg? Because I have a favourite.”
She peers down at my legs, pretending to take my question seriously. “Your right one,” she says, pointing and smiling with glee.
I tilt my head at her and give her a questioning smile. “Dammit. How did you know?”
Blesk seems different tonight. Comfortable. Confident. I’m in awe of the expression on her face. Did Elise cause that?
“Elise?” I turn my gaze to Blesk’s new best friend. “Would you like to join us?”
Her eyes widen, and she glances at Blesk.
“Oh, yes!” Blesk blurts out, knocking Elise with her elbow. “It’ll be fun.”
Elise stares down at her clothes, and motions towards them. “I just have jeans on.”
“Oh, you don’t need anything nice on for where we’re going,” I say. “But if you need a few moments, I can wait.” I turn to Blesk and act like a complete moron again by saying, “I’m a pretty patient guy. I’ve waited a long time for her.”
Are you even still a man, Konnor?
Elise turns to Blesk, who is now blushing from her cheeks to her ears, and says, “I’m no
t sure whether to say, ‘aww or throw up.”
“That is really corny, Konnor.” Blesk giggles. And once again my heart skips a beat.
“So I’ve been told.”
✽✽✽
All I want to do is hold her hand, to thread my fingers through hers, to feel her palm pressed against mine, and to mimic the rhythm of her stride as she walks. But I’m trying to be fair to Elise. Anyone who has managed to put that skip in Blesk’s step has my seal of approval.
As we walk into the Arts & Grey Theatre, I hold the door open for both girls and wait for Blesk to pass me. I follow her and discreetly place my hand on her waist, steering her down the corridor. I just had to touch her. The theatre is at the east wing of campus and opens every night, which often means it has a non-existent audience. It’s really what university is all about— run by students, for students. Anything goes. The shows vary from poetry, dancing, singing, live art, and hour-long monologues that usually end in at least one performer committing suicide.
And the audience wanting to.
The whole experience is pretty casual. Mismatched chairs, recliners, couches, and park benches make up the seating arrangement. The stage is barely six metres long, and only slightly raised. I’m not an artsy guy. Not really. But I shared a few electives with some of the art students, and with Frank, the theatre manager. He’s pretty good value. The lighting is coordinated by a guy named Jojo, and I have it on good authority that most of the time he’s up on the stage truss getting stoned. I love this place. I hope Blesk does, too.
We approach the front three-seater couch, and I take my place in one corner while Blesk slides in next to me, followed closely by Elise. Blesk folds her dress delicately under her as she sits, making me squirm slightly. She’s just so damn feminine. Resting my arm on the head rest, I allow her to set the pace, and hope she moves into me. I want her to, of course. With little hesitation, she slides her shoulder under my arm. When I pull her in closer, she shuffles over willingly. We are a perfect fit. I peer over to check on Miss Elise, who is closely tucked up beside Blesk, and eagerly peering around.
I lean towards them. “This is one of my favourite places to go on campus,” I whisper because the lights are beginning to dim. “You’ll see some wild stuff here.”