Lover: A Student Teacher Romance (Court University Book 4)

by Eden O'Neill

  She leaned forward. “I’ve been a shit friend to you. All these years, I’ve drawn on about all kinds of shit knowing…”

  “What?” I asked her. “That your best friend from high school was completely in love with you?”

  It’d been the first time I’d said the words out loud.

  And how freeing they’d been.

  To be able to say them, to feel them.

  And all in the past tense.

  I had been in love with her, was in love with her.

  Was.

  It was like air fully came through my lungs, like I could breath for the first time. It made me sit straighter, see clearer.

  Was.

  “That,” she said, her eyes meeting mine. She chewed her lip. “Like I said, I’ve been a shit friend. I knew that but I wanted to be your friend so bad. You’re addictive, Arizona.”

  I was addictive?

  I’d been obsessed with her for years, locking away shit inside myself for years because of her. Because I had been in love with her.

  Was.

  The thought made me smile now, but December obviously didn’t know why. She just continued to chew her lip, studying me.

  “What do you need from me?” she asked, her breath hitched. It was like she anticipated my next words, like they worried her. Her lips worked. “How do I not be a shit friend?”

  She could never be a shit friend, not truly. A shit friend completely abandoned you, but in this case, I’d abandoned her. I’d done it through both physical and metaphorical distance. I’d kept her at arm’s length when she’d always, always been there as a resource for me. She always reminded me how she was there, never forgot about me.

  But I had her, and though I’d always made myself available to her in the technical sense, I had kept a part of myself away.

  Perhaps, the most important part.

  I worked my palms. “First off, you could never really be a shit friend.” I dashed my eyebrows. “You check on me all the time and bug the shit out of me until I tell you what’s up. Always fucking do.”

  The woman was the first in my DMs during finals week, making sure I wasn’t stressed or needed anything. She was as attentive as I’d been for her at the wedding, and I did tell her most things.

  Ironically enough, it was the stuff that didn’t matter that she always got. My life was an open book to her besides anything that actually counted, and thinking back, she probably had poked so much over the years because she’d known the truth. During those final days in high school, I’d admitted my feelings to her, but I think we both thought I’d get over them after she chose someone else.

  As the years passed, it must have been apparent I hadn’t, and she had done all the poking. She never let up, always wanting me to be open with her I just never did.

  Completely on me and something I was correcting at the present. I was finally past all those old feelings. I was and it felt good.

  I eyed her. “And second, I don’t need anything from you. But there is something I need to start doing.”

  “What?”

  I studied her. “Saying no to you,” I said, laughing. “I’ve never been good at it.”

  Brielle was right. Things may not have been a certain way with December. I may not have been “unavailable,” but I certainly acted like it. I allowed myself to become a yes man and probably due to nothing but fear. Maybe I’d been afraid of losing my friend. Maybe I’d just been afraid. Either way, I couldn’t do it anymore and had a feeling I didn’t need to. She’d always be in my life whether I said yes to her or not.

  She was annoying in that way.

  I couldn’t get rid of her any more than she could get rid of me and she knew that.

  Laughter as she threw her head back and brought her legs up. She tossed her dark waves around. “Royal said this was coming.”

  “What?”

  “You,” she said, grinning, “cutting me off. He seems to think I take advantage of you.”

  Okay, my jaw dropped seriously to the damn floor. Royal Prinze coming to bat for me? I must have heard her wrong.

  But then a twinkle flashed in her eyes as she leaned forward. “I think he secretly likes you.”

  “Of course, he does,” I played off, like it didn’t shock me to hell every time I saw elements of that. That we were no longer rivals.

  That we may even be friends.

  It was still a bit much and nothing I’d ever voice in an open forum. I felt he’d share the same sentiment. As stubborn as myself in that way.

  I popped a shoulder, grinning. “What’s not to love?”

  With that, she grabbed one of my pillows off the couch, slamming me with it. I swear to God, this girl could put Mike Tyson to shame, and with that arm she’d had at her wedding when she’d flung her bouquet clear across the room at me, she seriously should consider a career as a professional athlete.

  “Arrogant ass,” she chided, dodging when I tossed the pillow at her. “Always so smug.”

  My laughter dissolved at what she said, how it sounded so similar to someone else. And like that someone knew, my phone pinged, Brielle’s name on the front.

  Bri: Just wanted to let you know I’m on the road. Since you wanted to know?

  I had, immediately texting her back.

  Me: Thank you. Drive safe.

  Bri: I will.

  Me: I wish you hadn’t left.

  No other texts came in, but since she was driving, she shouldn’t be texting anyway.

  Try telling my gut that.

  It clenched like someone clocked the son of a bitch, and I gazed up to find another’s eyes on me. December, of course, had been watching me. Always in my business.

  Always caring about me.

  She smiled in my direction, but it was a sad smile and one I didn’t want to see. It was like she knew what was plaguing me, conflicted me. I didn’t want to push Brielle, but she’d been more than adamant about a friendship and only that.

  “That woman that was here before,” December said, and Bri was definitely that. She held a maturity far beyond mine and I believed before was out of my league. For a few reasons, but one being what happened here tonight. She called me on the shit with December, but it’d taken me time to see the truth. That I had let that relationship, as well as quite a few other things in my past, distract me. December leaned forward. “Is she just your mom’s friend?”

  I really wasn’t ready for this conversation, still trying to figure all this out with Bri myself.

  “She started as a stranger,” I admitted. “Ended up being my professor.”

  “Your professor?” Her eyes widened.

  I nodded. “But in between that she was something else. I met her at your wedding. Met her before I knew she was my professor.”

  I couldn’t tell her what that something else was because, truth be told, I didn’t know. I just knew it felt like I’d fucked this up.

  December tapped her fist on the coffee table, and before I knew it, she was dipping below it and sliding out a wood chest I kept an old chess set in.

  “What are you doing?” I watched her dump the pieces out, getting them arranged on the board. After, she pulled up my leather ottoman and took a seat on it.

  “I feel like this talk requires chess.” She laced her fingers, then grinned. “You have until checkmate.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  To: brielle.whitmanquintero@pembroke.edu

  From: ramses.mallick@mallickenterprises.com

  Subject: Class Transfer

  Hey. I just wanted to let you know I took care of that class transfer. Had my mom sign off on it since she’s the department dean.

  Before you ask (because I know you will), she had no idea it was your class I was trying to get out of. She didn’t ask. Just signed it, but I don’t think she would have cared anyway. I know you care so that’s why I’m telling you. It’s taken care of and I’m sorry for dragging my feet on it. I could blame work and being busy, but it’d be just an excuse. It was sim
ply two more days of you.

  ’Nuff said.

  Anyway, the changes are effective immediately. I’m no longer your student, but I’m emailing because this is technically school related. And well, because you’re not texting me back, and I don’t really have a choice.

  Hope you’re well and thanks,

  - R

  To: ramses.mallick@mallickenterprises.com

  From: brielle.whitmanquintero@pembroke.edu

  Subject: Re: Class Transfer

  Ramses -

  Thank you for letting me know. Sorry, I haven’t been texting you back.

  I think you understand why.

  I hope you’re well too, and I wish you nothing but the best. I really enjoyed your friendship. It was really special to me.

  - Bri

  To: brielle.whitmanquintero@pembroke.edu

  From: ramses.mallick@mallickenterprises.com

  Subject: Re: Re: Class Transfer

  Well, since I both have and don’t have you—since I know you’re watching and reading—there’s this too.

  I had a talk with December after you left, a long one, and I’d like to tell you about it. It won’t be over an email, though.

  I value your friendship too so let’s be friends.

  The ball’s in your court, Professor.

  - R

  To: ramses.mallick@mallickenterprises.com

  From: brielle.whitmanquintero@pembroke.edu

  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Class Transfer

  I wish I could.

  I wish I was strong enough.

  - Bri

  (Recalled)

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bri

  I’d agreed to go on a date.

  Because I was an idiot.

  Like I didn’t completely have enough drama in my life, I agreed to go on a date with a man from the history department. Okay, so it wasn’t a date per se. It was a charity event, and he needed a date.

  It was a date.

  I’d put it out there I wasn’t looking for anything, though, and Guy had been understanding.

  Yes, that was his name: Guy Donahue and Evie had completely vouched for him. I’d met the man during a staff meeting. The three of us had casually chatted after, and Evie had just so happened to mention her son. She’d asked Guy how Ramses was doing in his class. Apparently, Ramses had signed up for Guy’s shortened seminar and mentioned doing so at their last weekly dinner.

  Guy had said fine, of course, moving on, and Evie did too. People often chatted and socialized after staff meetings, all of us getting together rare, but after she parted off from Guy, I eased him into conversation.

  Now, I was well aware how this looked. That I’d gotten to know Guy just because I’d been checking up on Ramses. I’d mentioned that day at the staff meeting—casually—that Ramses had happened to transfer out of my course and I just wanted to know how he was fairing. I had been ignoring Ramses’s texts at the time (which had stopped eventually). My student was persistent, but not a stalker. Yes, his texts had eventually stopped, and also yes, I’d wanted to know what happened to him. I had just wanted to make sure he was okay.

  And so, a friendship with Guy began.

  Of course, that was just how it had started. Casual lunches. Guy taught American history, and that was the class Ramses had gotten into since it had started later in the semester. I’d told Guy I didn’t hold that against him, a jab at him teaching American history instead of something as “exciting” as early western civ. I’d been joking, of course, and it had lightened the guilt a little. A friendship with Guy had been intentional. I’d been nosy and wanted to hear any and everything he had to say about Ramses. The casual exchanges hadn’t been much but gave me enough to let me know my previous student was okay and had settled into his new environment nicely. And duh, Ramses did well.

  It was Ramses.

  Something told me he could adjust in the most turbulent situation, but I needed to know and after I had, I planned to stop the lunches with Guy. The meetups shifted into something less intimate after that, others from the department eating with us, but during those socializations, the charity event came up. Faculty members tended to go since the funds did go back to the school. It was a small event, in Chicago, and that was when Guy had made his move. He needed a date.

  And I needed my head checked.

  I was not interested in anything romantically, at all, but I’d already committed. I also felt bad about my hidden agenda inquiring about Ramses. Going as Guy’s date would get me off the hook with that. At least, in my mind, so we met up at the event after a three-hour drive. One we’d made separately. I needed those clear boundaries with Guy, and he’d been cool about it.

  “Brielle, I want you to meet Blake and Daniel.”

  Other staff he’d introduced me to once we’d gotten there, the event, in all places, a VIP box at a basketball game. I hadn’t made the connection that the gathering would be there. Not even with the Chicago address (United Center). I hadn’t been there before, so I’d assumed other events besides sports could be had. Like banquets or whatever. It wasn’t until Guy handed me my VIP badge, I realized we’d be at a damn Bulls game during all this.

  Of course, that was where we’d be.

  I couldn’t seem to get away from sports, sports people, and the like. It was like it followed me like an angry storm.

  Even still, I was civil, introducing myself to Guy’s friends. Outside of the chaos and uproar from the game and its viewers, one would never know we were actually at a basketball game. The VIP box sat well away from the fray, private, and the game itself like wall decor. It played out behind a glass wall, and inside, another world of opulence, riches, and shimmering walls of silk and flashy lighting. The room resembled the VIP lounge at an exclusive club, formal attire required.

  I shook Blake and Daniel’s hands above my handbag, tucking it under my arm after the greeting. Guy, Daniel, and Blake fell into cozy conversation, and after I became room furniture, I slid a glass of champagne off a passing server’s tray. The bubbly might help me settle my nerves and forget the fact I was here and didn’t want to be. I just had to get through the night.

  “Oh, Brielle. There’s Ramses.”

  My gaze darted in the direction of Guy’s point, and sure enough, there was his current student.

  And with an entirely different look.

  For starters, he’d buzzed his hair, wispy dark curls gone and replaced with an equally dark fade. Their absence did nothing to take away from how classically handsome he was. If anything, his chiseled features stood out more without the distraction of them. He appeared striking without his hair, even older. He had a blond on his arm who he introduced as people swarmed him like a celebrity socialite.

  The girl by his side was Penthouse Barbie, fully equipped with a buxom chest and cocktail dress that rested well above her knees. She paired perfectly with him, a young CEO in his fitted suit with the open collar. Tailored, the smooth gray ran down his lean body like butter, his jacket tight and coursing thickly with his muscles. He placed a hand over hers on his arm, grinning when others shook his shoulder or acknowledged him. Was he with her?

  Do you care?

  Of course, I didn’t. He wasn’t mine, but I couldn’t help but stare. I also had no idea why he was here.

  Guy’s friends Blake and Daniel immediately went over to Ramses with, surprisingly, many people from the room. The event was maybe fifty or so, but Guy stayed with me.

  “I suppose I’m not surprised,” Guy continued on, finishing his other statement surrounding Ramses’s arrival. He faced me. “This is his box.”

  Wait. His box. As in this was his charity event, his party?

  “Come on. Let’s go say hi.”

  I didn’t want to say hi at all, but Guy had a hand behind my back and nudged my heels in the direction. I just about stumbled in my stilettos, adjusting myself and the slit of my dress so I at least appeared presentable. The amount of skin I displayed was nowhere near centerfold cele
butante’s, but the slit in my dress did hit above my thigh and the dark gown was strapless, my shoulders bare. It was something I’d dug out and had worn to countless events I used to frequent over the years with my ex-husband. He often went to things like this, and the black silk evening gown got the job done. I’d paired it with a red lip and my hair down. Completely functional.

  “Ramses,” Guy greeted. “Good seeing you.”

  But one would have thought I’d been scandalously clad, naked the way Ramses’s sight followed down the length of me. It stopped on my slit, a flash of my thigh parting through black silk, before Ramses smiled and found my eyes. He was that arrogant about it.

  And I forgot where I was.

  I forgot how to breathe and with whom I’d come. I forgot myself, being stupid when Ramses’s hand eased out for Guy’s and Ramses completely forgot about his date. Well, he hadn’t forgotten about her. She was there and he introduced her. Her name was Meredith, one of his classmates.

  But with all that out of the way, he came right back to me, that arrogant confidence of his returned. He was too bold to stare at me in such away, acknowledge me in that way after our history, and Guy knew he’d been my student. I’d told him that so I could be nosy.

  “You know Professor Whitman-Quintero,” Guy reintroduced, grinning at Ramses. “She was just asking about you.”

  Okay, I hadn’t been just asking. I’d asked about him. In the past, past tense.