“Ty? Are you still there?”
He took a deep breath, and his chest finally loosened up enough that he could reply. “What about Sean?”
“Did you see his leg? Contusions. Severe lacerations. And, of course, there’s always the possibility of an infection.”
It took Ty a second to translate Keri’s medical-school terminology into English. “So, a few scrapes and bruises?”
“Did you know he went kiteboarding?”
“Lots of people kiteboard.”
“Do they also cave dive and heli ski?”
“He’s a SEAL, Ker Bear. He likes the adrenaline rush.”
“An adrenaline rush is one thing. This seems more like a death wish.”
“He had one little accident. Don’t make it into more than it is.”
“Did something happen out there? In Iraq? Ever since he got back, he’s been different.”
She asked the question so casually, like he could point to the single incident that had messed with Sean’s head, and then she could fix it. But there hadn’t been one thing, there had been a thousand. The friends who had died. The missions that had gone wrong. The burden of carrying weapons that could harm so many. “He seems normal to me.”
“Says the emotionally stunted caveman who calls his broken engagement ‘no big deal.’ Will you at least talk to him?”
“And say what? ‘Hey, buddy—do you have some deep psychological wound that’s making you consider suicide by extreme sport?’ ”
“That’s not exactly how I would put it, but—”
“You know what I think? You’re out of med school for the summer, and you’re bored.”
“So, what?” Keri’s voice hit a dangerously high note. “I’m making this up?”
“No. I just meant you might be…you know. Misinterpreting certain things.”
“He’s your best friend, Ty. Are you really going to sit there and watch him self destruct?”
“I’ll talk to him. Okay?”
“Thank you.”
He rushed on, before Keri noticed that he hadn’t promised exactly what he’d talk to Sean about. “But right now, I’ve gotta get to section. I don’t want to be late.”
“You don’t want to be late? Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”
“I’m not seventeen anymore. I wouldn’t have gone back to school if I didn’t want to learn. Plus, there’s this woman…”
“What’s her name? How old is she? It’d be kind of weird if you were dating someone younger than me, but I’d adjust. As long as you’re happy.”
He chuckled. Problem solved. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I haven’t even asked her out.”
“But you’re going to, right?”
“Oh yeah. Getting some alone time with her is my number one priority.”
*
In contrast to the 300-seat hall that housed the Evolution of Human Sexuality lectures, the small classroom where Annabelle’s first section would be held had only twenty-five desks. Which should have been reassuring.
But she was still recovering from a phone call with her mother, who’d supposedly called about family brunch on Saturday, but really because her maternal radar had alerted her that Annabelle was thinking inappropriate thoughts. Things like the satisfying crack her fist would make when it connected with Ty’s perfect jaw. Or the soft brush of his hair against her fingers as she pulled his head down for a kiss.
And now she was thinking them again.
She took a scouring pad and bleach to her subconscious. She was more mature than this. She’d gotten over Ty years ago—moved him firmly into the friend zone.
But when she saw him sitting in the middle desk in the front row, the only student present, since there were still twenty minutes until class started, her heart rate shot up.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Just the smooth, easy sound of Ty’s voice, and everything about him went from fuzzy background scenery to high-definition clarity. The dark stubble forming along his jaw. His throat muscles working as he swallowed. Those vivid green eyes tracking her as she crossed the room.
He was here. He’d come early to see her because he missed her. Because he wanted her to know that he’d never stopped thinking about her. That he’d only left her because—
No.
She was not going to cast Ty in the role of fairytale prince because he got to class a few minutes early. She would treat him like the platonic friend he was.
She set her satchel on the metal teacher’s desk. “I never thought I’d see the day when you were the first one in class.”
“Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.” His smile took its time, spreading over his face by slow degrees. “Or maybe I never had an incentive as good as I do now.”
She felt that smile like a caress. Her skin went ultra-sensitive. She took an involuntary step toward him.
No, darn it! He had no right to act like it had been seven hours since their fairy-tale prom date instead of seven years. “Don’t you dare flirt with me!”
“I didn’t… I only meant…” His mouth stayed open, but no more words came out.
“I—”
“There you are.”
Christian’s impatient tone stopped her from doing something really stupid, like taking back everything she’d said to protect Ty’s feelings.
“Of course I’m here.” She cleared her throat. “Where else would I be?”
Christian muttered something about her office.
Ty propped his right foot up on an extra chair.
Was his leg bothering him?
He hadn’t been limping as he’d left Diamon’s lecture, for which she was eternally grateful. As much as she needed him far, far away, she couldn’t stand the idea that he might be in pain.
“How’s your leg?” she asked—not exactly an apology, but a peace offering.
“Never better.” His grin was so confident, so Ty, that she couldn’t believe she’d worried she might’ve hurt his feelings. “Hell, sweetheart, it was only a scratch.”
“A scratch that got you emergency surgery, a medical discharge, and six months of intensive physical therapy.”
“A bad scratch. But it’s fine now. I took a long walk around campus this afternoon, and everything held up. I just figured, after all that walking, I should elevate it to be safe.”
He sounded sincere. Of course, he’d sounded equally sincere seven years ago when they’d made plans to go stargazing the night after prom.
Christian cleared his throat impatiently. “Now that we’ve gone through your student’s medical history, can we return to the matter at hand? You have a section starting in five minutes.”
For once, she was grateful for Christian’s self-important blather. “That’s why I’m here. Why are you here?”
Christian chose a seat several desks away from Ty. “Diamon asked me to sit in, since you’re having trouble with the material.”
“I wonder where he could’ve gotten that impression,” she muttered, at the same time that Ty said, “She’s got it under control.”
Christian barely glanced at Ty before returning his attention to her. “He asked me, point blank, if everything was on track. I didn’t feel comfortable lying to my advisor.”
She tried to work up some righteous anger, but it was hard to focus on Christian with Ty so close. Next to Ty’s solid, muscular frame, Christian was gaunt. Ty’s deep tan made it clear that Christian got all his light from the computer screen.
“I’ve done all the reading, including the supplemental papers. I’m one hundred percent prepared for any questions my students might have.” It was only a little bit of a lie. “So now you can report back to Diamon with a clear conscience.”
“You don’t need to put on a show for me, Anna. I’m perfectly aware that you’re…uncomfortable with the source material.”
She flinched, trying to keep those two sentences from obliterating all her pep talks and hours of preparation. Ty’s gaze burned into her. He might
be laid-back, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d undoubtedly read Christian’s critique of her poor sexual performance from between the lines.
She wanted to disappear. Run away. Teleport to a completely different galaxy. Anything to get away from this room, where her deepest fears were parading around like circus performers. But if the last few years had taught her anything, it was that there was no way out but through. So she forced in a breath.
She focused on Christian, pretending he was her only problem. “I can’t imagine what you mean,” she said, in a frosty, remember-the-University’s-sexual-harassment-policy voice.
“I mean that your research is on…what is it? Damselflies? In any case, it has nothing to do with human sexuality. When I recommended you to Diamon, it was under the assumption that I’d be helping you with your teaching duties.”
“I’ve TAed for six different classes in the department, most of which I’ve never taken, and gotten excellent evaluations from them all.”
Despite her best intentions, her gaze strayed to Ty. He wasn’t looking at her like she was defective. In fact, he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was examining Christian with lazy curiosity, like her ex was some strange insect not even worth his time to kill.
A remnant of confidence found its way back into Annabelle’s voice. “So I have to wonder if you’re really worried about my teaching readiness or if it’s something more personal.”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“I don’t need your help. And I’m not going to quit so you can bring your new girlfriend in.”
“This has nothing to do with Amy,” Christian protested, a little too quickly. “And, if you’re prepared for section, you won’t mind if I sit in so that I can assure Diamon you’re up to the task.”
She shrugged. “You’re the one wasting your free time.”
The remaining students began to trickle inside. She went around the room introducing herself, and by the time all the desks were filled and she made her way to the front, she had almost convinced herself that Christian’s presence was no big deal. She’d simply teach the section as though he was invisible.
“Today we’re going to discuss the Sexual Signaling paper by Englehardt. But before we get to that, does anyone have a question about the lecture?”
Invisible Man’s hand shot into the air. “Can you explain the function and evolution of concealed ovulation in humans?”
I can tell you to go to hell.
But she couldn’t. Not with all the undergrads focused and attentive. They probably wanted a review of the lecture they’d been too hung-over to focus on.
She took a deep breath. She was doing this to help her students. “Our working theory is that this was a two-step process. Concealed ovulation first arose while our ancestors were still promiscuous or living in harems. It allowed females to have intercourse with many partners, none of whom could be sure if he was responsible for her pregnancy. Because any number of males might be the father, none would harm the baby, and some might even help provide for him or her.”
The words flowed easily, like she was reading straight from her notes. It helped that the formal, scientific terminology didn’t remind her at all of the sweaty, uncomfortable, intimate act she was so terrified of. “As time passed, we think that the function of concealed ovulation shifted, so that when a woman picked the single partner she wanted to settle down with, concealed ovulation helped ensure that he stayed with her, providing for the family. Since he didn’t know exactly when she was fertile, he would need to stay home to try to impregnate her, whereas if he knew the day of ovulation, he might be gone every other day of the month, leaving his family to fend for themselves.”
A bunch of the students nodded, like she’d actually made sense. Ty winked at her. More tellingly, Christian looked disappointed—practically a guarantee that she’d nailed it.
Figuratively speaking.
A guy in the back, wearing a baseball cap with his fraternity insignia, asked a question about why chimpanzee females show obvious signs of ovulation when human females don’t. Before she knew it, she was leading a discussion about promiscuity in chimpanzee society, and how conspicuous signs of ovulation might be genetically advantageous under those circumstances. And she wasn’t even blushing.
This wasn’t so hard. She needed to keep in mind that sexual behavior was a natural, biological phenomenon. Something she could study and learn to understand. Something she could—
“I wish I were a chimp,” called someone else in the back. “If all I had to do to get laid was find a girl with a nice red ass, I’d have time to grill up a steak, watch SportsCenter, and do my homework.”
“As if,” said the girl in front of him. “Even as a chimp you wouldn’t be able to seal the deal.”
“Don’t be a hater, Lana. Just ‘cuz I dumped your frigid ass—”
“Okay,” Annabelle broke in. “Let’s get back on topic.”
“Actually,” Christian said. “That brings up an interesting point. Female frigidity. Is it a genetic error, or does it serve an evolutionary purpose?”
She went hot, then cold, then hot again.
Everyone was staring at her, waiting for her answer.
Because you’re the teacher. Not because they think you’re suffering from sexual dysfunction.
It didn’t matter—their gazes were sharp, pointed things, penetrating deeper than they had any right.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t think…”
“Go on.” Christian voice oozed fake solicitousness.
“What I’m trying to say is…” She could picture the relevant page in her notes, but she couldn’t make the print come into focus. Her cheeks were burning. Why had she turned all the lights on? Why did the room have so many lights? Under the operating-room-bright glow, her blush must be about as subtle as an ovulatory chimp’s ass.
Don’t do it, she told herself, but her muscles bypassed her brain. She swiveled toward Ty.
He was slouched low in his chair, eyelids at half mast, but she felt his focus. Not only had he heard everything, he understood that Christian’s question wasn’t an academic exercise.
The bonfire under her skin flared into a three-alarm blaze. “We’re not scheduled to cover that material until next month, so—”
“But you’ve been arguing that human sexual behavior today is a product of genetic selection. So where does frigidity come in? A genetic accident? Or nature’s way of ensuring that subpar genes won’t be passed on to the next generation?”
Say something! Now!
She forced her mouth open, but her mind was all staticky, panicked emptiness.
Ty’s sleepy drawl filled the silence. “If you ask me, it’s a trick question. There’s no such thing as a frigid woman. Only a woman who’s been sleeping with the wrong man.”
The class erupted into laughter.
“Dayum!” called another guy from frat row in the back.
Christian’s face went bright red. “I didn’t ask you.”
“My mistake.”
“I was trying to have a scientific debate.”
“Really?” Ty scratched his jaw. “‘Cuz I gotta be honest. It sounded more like you were trying to compensate for some major inadequacy issues.”
“I really don’t think… That is, it’s not appropriate…” Christian cleared his throat. “That kind of language simply isn’t conducive to a productive discussion.”
“What’s wrong, buddy? Did I hit a nerve?”
Christian stood up so fast he almost kicked over his desk. “Shut up or I’ll make you shut up!”
The hoots and jeers cut off abruptly, and in the tense silence, Annabelle finally found her voice. “Okay. Let’s all calm down.”
Ty pushed to his feet, not once breaking eye contact with Christian. “I don’t think you’re in a position to make me do anything. But feel free to give it a shot.”
“That’s enough!” Annabelle kept her gaze on the two men as she felt
for her phone in her pocket. If either one moved a single inch closer to the other, she was calling campus security.
Except—crap, crap, crappity crap—no phone. She risked a glance around the room for help, but frat row was watching the conflict like she’d staged it for their personal enjoyment.
She grasped blindly for her satchel. There was something in Ty’s eyes—a predatory intensity that contradicted his laid-back personality—and she suddenly understood how he’d survived those seven years in the Navy. Underneath the boy she once knew was a soldier.
Christian slunk backward. “I’ve wasted enough time here. I’m not going to fight a cripple.”
“You sure, pretty boy?”
“I have work to do.” Christian broke for the door, and Annabelle remembered how to breathe.
Like someone had switched the mute button off, everyone in the room was talking at once.
“What a tool.”
“Did you see that shirt he was wearing? No one in a polo has ever won a fight.”
“You should’ve laid him out.”
“All right!” she shouted. “Quiet down.”
The volume decreased slightly. “We only have ten more minutes of class, so I’m going to let you go early.” Somehow, the words sounded normal, even though she was shaking inside. “But come back next week ready to work. If you run into questions before then, send me an email, or come see me during office hours.”
The undergrads grabbed their things and rushed through the door faster than she could say free pizza in the quad. All except Ty.
“You okay?” he asked.
Okay? She hadn’t been okay since he’d blindsided her in class this morning. “What the heck were you trying to do? Start a fight in my section?”
“He wasn’t gonna fight me. Guys like him—all talk, no action—they’re the ones who ring out of training. All I did was help him along.”
“Well, next time, don’t.” She was yelling, though she wasn’t sure why. Because he’d disrupted her section? Because he could’ve been hurt? Because he’d come back into her life from out of nowhere? “I’ll handle any disruptions on my own. The way I could have handled this one.”
Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) Page 3