by Loraine, Kim
Don’t run from this.
Heart in my throat, I wait as the little bubbles dance at the bottom of the screen and tell me she’s responding. It’s a long time before my phone vibrates in my hand with her message.
This isn’t going to happen. You lied to me.
My jaw hurts from clenching it so hard. I didn’t bloody lie to her. I said I was here for work. I said I was a writer. Those are all true.
I didn’t lie. You’re the one who said you were a molecular biologist. You failed to mention you were a student.
She doesn’t respond, and I can’t help but let out a frustrated growl. None of this is her fault. It’s not mine either. This is just an unfortunate circumstance, a roadblock to our happiness. All I have to do is convince her to listen.
16
Blocked
“He’s my professor,” I tell Kit as we sit together at our favorite pizza place two days after my disastrous run-in with Jude. “My married with a kid professor. Oh, God. I’m a home wrecker. His accent probably isn’t even real.” I drop my head into my hands and groan.
“Wow, when you mess up you go all in, don’t you?”
I lift my face and stare daggers at him. “Not helpful.”
“It’s really a shame. He’s so hot. I mean, not as hot as your brother, but still.”
I bristle at the mention of Austen. “Don’t talk about my brother like that. It’s gross.”
“I can’t help it. Your brother is a fine specimen. I bet Samantha thinks so too from the way she’s been looking at him lately.”
I sigh. “At least someone’s happy.”
He cocks his eyebrow. “So the whole, age thing doesn’t bother you? She’s like thirty isn’t she? Why is she still in college.”
“Twenty-seven. She’s a PhD student. And in case you’re forgetting, I slept with my married professor. I’d be the pot calling the kettle black if I had a problem with their age difference.”
“True. So, what are you going to do? You have to take that class.”
“I can’t. I can’t go back there and face him again. I tried yesterday and had a panic attack. Even the idea of seeing him is painful.”
Kit frowns. “I thought he was just a one night fling.”
“It was…but we had something. It was like…well, it was this crazy instant connection between us. He wanted to see me again, and I couldn’t say no. It felt so right.”
He takes a long drink from his straw before looking back at me. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s a first.”
He laughs and throws a wadded up napkin at me. “Bitch.”
“I’ll just have to chalk this up to bad judgment and use it as a reminder to stay focused on my future. I let him distract me with his sexy mouth and beautiful body. That’s all. I’m going to have to pull out of his class and take an extra next quarter.”
Kit nods and picks up his pizza, taking a huge bite. Conversation over. Decision made. I’m done with Jude. He’s not a possibility for me and he should be focused on his family.
I studiously ignore my phone the rest of the day. Finally turning it off completely after Jude’s tenth text. I’d thought he would have given up by now, but he still tries to get in touch every day. I don’t want this reality to be true, because everything with him was so easy, so perfect. To have it all shattered with one sharp twist of fate makes anxiety blossom in my chest. How could my instincts be so wrong? I’ve always considered myself a good judge of character, but to miss something as monumental as him being married, having a newborn for heaven’s sake, means I have no idea what people are capable of.
I push open the sorority house door and walk into something akin to a Halloween shop. Bags of cobwebs, buckets of candy and at least thirty uncarved pumpkins fill the front room. There are plastic bags from the local party store, boxes from Amazon, and costumes on hangers lining the stair bannister. Stacy stands amid the mess with a steamer in her hands as she runs it over the wrinkled fabric of a princess gown.
“Good, you’re here,” she says. “We’re going over to decorate tomorrow so we’re ready for Halloween.”
I fight my grimace. The last thing I want to do is pretend to be a witch and give people tarot readings and pretend love spells. “Stace—”
“Look, I know you’re having a bit of a crisis at the moment. We all heard about your vanishing act in that class you were supposed to take. I can only assume it’s because of Mr. Walk-of-shame, but it’s better to keep yourself busy, do something with your time, than sit and dwell on it.”
I sigh and stare at her. She’s right. “Okay. I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk about this whole thing.”
“I get it. Probably more than you know.” She reaches up and grabs a long dress from where it hangs on the bannister. “Here. This one’s yours.”
It’s very different from what I expected. A corset top with rich colored fabric and beautiful detailed embroidery along the skirt. “Stacy, this is gorgeous.”
She shrugs. “Just because you’re a wicked witch, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be stunning.”
I grin. “Like Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus.”
“Exactly.” I start up the stairs, but Stacy calls my name and stops me.
“He’s an idiot if he hurt you. Just remember that. You’re deserving of a guy who’ll love you and be honest. Not one who makes you sad.”
My eyes well with tears and I have to work to keep them from falling. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I rush up the stairs and into my room, thankful I’m one of the few who got a private space in the house. My chest is tight with unshed tears and when I turn on my phone and see all the missed messages from Jude, they finally fall. “Leave me alone, asshole,” I shout, throwing my phone across the room. Reasonable? No. But he can’t keep doing this to me. He’s not available. He can’t love me like I love him.
Wait. Love him? I can’t possibly already love him. But it’s there, that word hangs over me like a damn cloud. No. It’s not a cloud. It’s a seed. A seed this man planted the first moment I met him and now it’s grown in my heart and I can’t cut it out.
Damn him.
My stupid phone lights up from the pile of laundry it ended up landing in. I can’t ignore it any longer. My weakened heart won’t let me.
Crossing the room, I bend down to pick up the slim device. His name flashes on the screen and my eyes fill with angry tears.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Oh, that’s fucking rich. He didn’t mean to hurt me? That makes absolutely no sense. Who did he mean to hurt then? His wife? His newborn? Or maybe he’d planned to keep this a secret forever. Just a blip in his marriage.
I type back a furious message.
Maybe you should be saying that to your wife, asshole.
My finger hovers over the Send button, and after one brief moment of hesitation, I press it. He needs to know I’m aware of the depth of his betrayal. Not only to me, but to his family.
His beautiful eyes flash in my memory and all I can think about is the adoration and pure connection I saw there. I feel like an idiot for believing him.
My phone lights up as he calls me but I ignore him. I’ve said everything I need to say. He thought he could take advantage of me not knowing who he was, but he got caught.
“No more, Jude. I’m not falling for your charms again,” I say. Then, I block his number and let the damn tears fall again.
17
Sorority Girls
My wife? I don’t have a wife. What in the bloody hell is Tillie on about? I told her I wasn’t married. I’ve never lied to her. Every single time I try to call, it goes straight to voicemail. So, that’s it. She’s done with me. I don’t even know her last name and aside from wandering campus asking people if they know Tillie, I’m not sure how I’m going to find her.
I pull out my phone and call Brett. I need perspective, and if anyone can help me figure out how to win her back, it�
�s him.
He answers on the second ring. “Jude, what’s up?”
“I lost her.”
“Lost who?”
“Tillie.”
He grunts and sighs. “What are you talking about, man? Didn’t she run away from you after your one-night-stand? You’re not supposed to go looking for them. That defeats the purpose.”
“She’s more than that. She’s…Tillie is special.” I drag a hand through my hair and let out a frustrated groan. “Fuck. She thinks I’m her professor. And for some reason, she thinks I’m married.”
“Wait, this girl is in the class you’re working with?”
“Looks like it.”
“Shit. That must’ve been a surprise.”
“For both of us. She hasn’t been back since Monday and I’m pretty sure she’s blocked my number.”
“Wow. You really pissed her off.”
“So, find her and tell her the truth. It’s just a misunderstanding.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “If it was that easy, don’t you think I’d have already done that?”
“Okay, what’s stopping you, then?”
“I don’t even know her last name. How am I supposed to find her?”
He sighs. “Do I really have to hold your hand and explain how computers work?”
“What?”
“Don’t you have access to a class list? You’re the guest lecturer for two weeks. I’m pretty sure you can ask for a list of names.”
Fucking hell. I am an absolute idiot. “You’re right.”
“So, look her up and go get her. I like you better when you’re happy. It makes my job easier.”
I hang up the phone and fire off an email to Professor Monroe asking for a class list. The man was supposed to be in class during my lectures, but his secretary told me he had to take unexpected medical leave and wasn’t sure when he’d be back. I can only hope he’ll at least be checking his emails.
Hours go by without word from him, and I’ve paced my house enough times I’m pretty sure I could do it blindfolded and not hit anything. So, I pull on a heavy sweatshirt and pop my earbuds in my ears before heading outside for an evening run.
Muse is the soundtrack for tonight, and as the seductive bass lines drive my pace, I let my thoughts wander to Tillie. I have to find a way to get her back, to prove to her we’re meant to be together. I’ve never felt this way about anyone and I doubt I ever will again. She’s the woman I want to spend my life with.
I jog past a group of girls, all of them carrying boxes overflowing with Halloween decorations, a few with jack-o-lanterns. And one of them has the long dark waves and curves I dream of. One of them is Tillie.
Her eyes widen and the pumpkin she’s holding slips from her grasp, falling to the sidewalk with an ominous crack.
“Shit,” she says, bending down to collect the pieces of what was a pumpkin carved to look like a witch.
“Oh, Tillie, you dropped one.” A brunette wearing a Mi Alpha Alpha sweatshirt says, her expression clearly annoyed. Then she sizes me up. “And who is this?”
“Jude,” I offer as I kneel and pick up the top of the pumpkin, which had rolled to my feet.
“This is Professor Monroe.” Tillie’s words are sharp and unfriendly.
What? “I—” I begin, the sorority girl interrupts.
“Um, no he’s not. I don’t know what this guy told you, but this man is definitely not Professor Monroe. I was his TA last year, I should know.”
Tillie’s eyes widen. “You’re not the professor? Why were you teaching the class?”
“I’m a guest lecturer.”
Her mouth hangs open for a moment as she processes what I’ve said. “But…”
“Have you never seen the professor before?”
She shakes her head. “I just transferred to his class. I wasn’t…you never told me your last name. I just assumed when I saw you at the podium.”
“The university brought me in for two weeks. Your professor was called away for medical reasons.”
“His wife had a baby,” the brunette offers.
“I came after you,” I tell Tillie, wishing this other woman would leave us be.
“You were persistent.”
“Why wouldn’t you give me a chance to explain?”
Her cheeks go pink. “I thought you were a cheating bastard.”
“I told you…once I promise my heart to a woman—”
“She’ll have it forever,” she finishes.
“Oh, my God. This is the walk-of-shame guy?”
“Stacy,” Tillie admonishes.
“Sorry. But, girl, I can’t believe you left this guy on the market.”
“Stacy,” I say, turning up my charm. “Might I steal Tillie away for a bit?”
Stacy’s eyes widen and she glances to the mansion where the other girls are waiting. “No.”
I raise my brows. “Pardon?”
“No. She’s part of this sorority and she needs to help us set up for the haunted house. You want to see her, buy a ticket for tomorrow.”
Then she hooks her arm through Tillie’s and drags her away. Tillie glances over her shoulder and mouths, sorry, before she’s lost to me in a sea of sorority girls.
That’s fine. She needs to take care of her obligations. I’m secure in the knowledge that she doesn’t hate me anymore. I’m hers. Undeniably. And tomorrow night, I’ll make her mine.
18
I Put A Spell On You
The witch room is all candles and dark fabrics. Stacy had a vision for this room, and I’m thankful for that because I have absolutely no idea what a witch room should look like. A Tarot deck is stacked neatly on the circular table in the center of the room. There’s a spirit board on the desk by the window, and a crystal ball sits next to that. Light from the candles casts the room in a golden glow, making it feel more romantic than creepy. And then there’s the large four-poster bed with a flowing wine colored canopy.
I walk around the room, trailing my fingers over the cork tops of the small apothecary bottles filled with grape juice—my love potions—and wonder how many people will buy themselves a spell.
My thoughts drift to Jude for the millionth time today. I haven’t heard from him. As soon as I finished working on the haunted house decorations, I texted him. I’d hoped for a message or a call this morning, but he never responded. My heart sinks at the prospect of having ruined our budding relationship with my misunderstanding of the situation. He may have seen me last night and cleared everything up, but I didn’t get to make sure he understood how happy I was to see him.
A soft knock on my door has me turning my attention to the front of the room. Stacy walks through the doorway and grins. “You look amazing.” She crosses the floor and tugs at the corset top of my dress until my boobs are on better display. “There. A sexy witch sells much better than a wicked one.”
I roll my eyes. “Is everything ready?”
“Yep. I just have to get dressed and then we’re going to open the doors. There’s already a line.”
“A line?” I honestly didn’t think this was going to be such a big deal. Then again, that seems shortsighted now. Stacy’s event coordination skills almost guaranteed this would be a huge success.
“Now remember, leave your door open and if there’s any problem, text me a 9-1-1. I’ve got a few of the hockey players on standby as bouncers if we need them.”
I nod. “I also have pepper spray in my bag. Just in case.”
She raises her eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”
“You never know.”
“Okay, have fun tonight! I have to change.”
She flounces off and I take a seat at my fortune reading table. Reaching in the small velvet pouch attached to my belt, I pull my phone free and stare down at it with a frustrated ache taking hold in my chest. Why hasn’t he responded to me?
I type a message and pray he’ll respond.
Why aren’t you talking to me?
Minutes pass with
no response, and my frustration turns to mild anger. I type another.
I thought we were okay.
Still nothing. My emotions are all over the place as a bone-deep sadness takes hold. I messed it all up. I should have gone with him last night and not let Stacy drag me to the house.
I’m sorry. I need you with me. I don’t feel right without you.
Even then, no answer. I tuck my phone back in my bag and when the lights in the hall dim and the haunted house music begins, I hear my sorority sisters cheering.
“I’m here to have my fortune read,” a booming voice says from the hall. “How about you, baby? You want to know our future?”
Paul Woodward, captain of the wrestling team, comes in with his girlfriend of the week. He’s dressed as Dean Winchester from Supernatural and she’s got on a skin-tight black dress that has the license plate from Dean’s Impala spread across her boobs.
“Oh, I get it. You’re supposed to be his car.” I have to give them credit, it’s a pretty cute couples costume.
“Because he calls his car Baby,” the girl explains needlessly.
“Right,” I mutter. “Well, have a seat. Make your donation and I’ll give you a special love potion.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Paul holds his hands up to stop me. “Who said anything about love?”
God, what a douche. “Maybe I wasn’t talking to you, Paul. Clearly you don’t deserve her.” I wave my hands over my deck of cards and Paul’s girl sits down in front of me. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I flip over some cards and gasp.
Her eyes go wide. “What is it?”
“You’re with the wrong man. I’m sorry to say, Paul is going to hurt you.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Paul grumbles. “Fucking cock-block.”
“You’ll meet your true love at the library, while you’re studying.”
“But I don’t study.” Her voice is soft and holds a hint of wonder.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jessica.” Paul’s voice is filled with exasperation.