by Carter Ashby
"Baby, I know this is hard for you."
She barked a laugh. "Don't offer me sympathy, Grey. I'm a big girl, I can handle my own feelings." She stood, extending the handle on her suitcase so she could roll it out of the house.
Grey stood, too, but only to reach out and stop her. He held her arm and pulled her toward him. "This is hard for me, too."
"Oh, really? You're taking it extremely well."
"If you'd just give me a chance, I'll tell you how much this week meant to me. How much you've meant to me."
She finally lifted her eyes to his. She traced his lightly stubbled jaw with her fingertips. "It's enough to know it meant something."
"Addison, it meant everything. I'll never feel this way about someone again, I know I won't. And maybe someday—"
"Don't. I meant what I said. I'm not waiting anymore."
"I wouldn't ask you to, not at all. I won't wait either. But maybe…someday…." He trailed off.
Addison watched him frowning in thought. "In this mythical 'someday,' would we marry?"
He laughed. "Addison, you know how I feel about marriage."
"Yes, but do you know how I feel about it?"
His frown returned.
"I want it. Marriage. House in the suburbs. Children. You wouldn't know it to look at me, I'm sure, but I want to be a mother. I'm independent, and I love this career path I'm on, but if I ever met someone I could build a life with, I'd be more than happy to shift my priorities."
Grey swallowed, actually looking nervous for the first time since the day he'd put those plane tickets in her hands. "You couldn't…couldn't see yourself having that life with me, I'm sure."
It sounded like a statement, but she knew it was a question. She decided not to answer. "You're not a 'love' kind of person," she said, instead, using his own words.
His eyes darted back and forth between hers. The furrow between his brows deepened. At last, he nodded. "Yeah, that's true, Addison. It doesn't mean I don't care for you very much."
"That's fine. But I love you, Grey."
His face blanched, and he took a step back. Exactly the reaction Addy had expected, which did little to assuage her grief. She took a breath and said, "I've been in love with you for three years now. You can tell yourself that love doesn't last or that there's no such thing as love, but you only say that because you don't feel for me what I feel for you. There's no other word to describe my thoughts, feelings, and wants surrounding you, but love. It's more than the attraction, the sex, the conversation, the fun…it's this desire, this need, to give myself to you. To do for you, care for you, be…just be…with you. Maybe in the future you'll know what that feels like, but for myself, right now, my heart is breaking. So don't tease me with 'maybe someday,' and don't offer me sympathy when you refuse to believe that what I'm going through is real."
He stared at her. It was with great effort that she maintained eye contact. His eyes were wide, his expression more conflicted than she'd ever seen it. It was foolish of her, but she hoped he might be in love with her. Beyond that, she hoped he might say the words, in this, their last moment together as Addy and Grey, before going back to the world of Ms. Hart and Dr. McDaniel.
He opened his mouth, hesitated, and said, "Addison."
His tone was enough to dash her hopes. Her new hope was that she kept her disappointment from showing. She turned back to her suitcase. "It's okay," she said. "This week was amazing. Thank you. I'll never forget it."
She walked away, and he didn't stop her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
They didn't touch on the plane ride home. They didn't so much as hold hands. He wanted to, but after the things she'd said, he knew it would only cause her pain. So he satisfied himself with stolen glances her direction. As far as he could tell, she never once looked at him. Not even when the plane landed and they stood to disembark. She grabbed her carry-on and walked off the plane.
At baggage claim, he pulled her suitcase off the carousel. She clicked up the handle and began walking away.
"Addison," he called, because he couldn't help it. Because he needed their goodbye to be better than it had been. He didn't want this to end on a sorrowful note. He'd envisioned hugs and smiles and a mutual understanding that they'd just created some of the best memories of their lives. It should have been bittersweet, not bitter.
She didn't stop. She kept walking, without looking back, until she disappeared into the crowds. Grey's heart sank a little further.
She was wrong. There was no such thing as love. Only temporary bursts of hormonal reactions. Her feelings would end. Man was never suited for monogamy. He could cite plenty of research if she'd just open her mind.
But no, it was best this way. She was right about dealing with her own feelings. Those weren't his responsibility.
He took his suitcase and went home to his one-bedroom apartment a few blocks from the school. The building was old, red brick, but had been renovated. The apartments had been modernized and were sleek and functional, if a little small. He'd furnished his place with a leather sofa and matching armchair. His kitchen was too small for a whole table, so there was a small, two person table pushed against one wall. Beyond that was the bathroom and his bedroom.
He unloaded his suitcase and sorted his clothes. Then he took a load to his small, apartment-sized washer. As he was cramming the clothes in, he wrapped his hand around one of his t-shirts, a worn, gray college shirt he'd had for years and liked to sleep in. Addison had worn it a couple of nights. When he lifted it to his face, it smelled like her.
He should have washed it straight away, but instead, indulged in what he considered to be a ridiculous sentiment, and stripped out of his shirt to put on the t-shirt. This wasn't love. This was a Pavlovian response to scent. Her scent was arousing to him because he'd experienced it in conjunction with sex. This would pass. Not tonight, though. Tonight he would wear the shirt, lay on his bed, and ache for her.
His cell phone rang. He hurried back to his bedroom to the docking station where he'd left it. The word "Mom" flashed on the screen.
He picked up the phone and swiped it on. "Mom," he said, "I'm surprised I haven't heard from you sooner. Calling to berate me for disappearing for a week?"
Silence. Then, "Who the hell is this?"
It was Grey's turn to be stunned into silence. He didn't know who this particular "mom" was but she wasn't his. His mom certainly had a superior and frightening tone to her voice, but this woman had taken it to another level. "This is Greyson McDaniel," he said. "I believe you have the wrong number."
"I most certainly do not. I'm calling to speak to my daughter, Addison. Explain to me immediately why you have her phone."
Grey's head spun. No way this was happening. They'd had a discreet affair far from their homes and families. No way within an hour of arriving home were they going to get caught. He searched his mind for a lie. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hart, our phones must have gotten switched in my office last week."
"Addison had her phone with her as of two days ago. She texted me with it. Why would she have switched phones with you since then?"
"Perhaps it was this morning," he said, squeezing his eyes shut and praying hard for a lie that would work out. "I met her in the office, briefly, to discuss the 101 class she's teaching for me. She submitted the mid-term grades to me. I imagine she grabbed the wrong phone on her way out."
A brief silence. "I see," the woman said, though it sounded as though she didn't see at all. "I assume you'll return her phone when you see her tomorrow?"
"Of course, Mrs. Hart."
"Dr. McDaniel, are you having an affair with my daughter?"
Panic lodged in his throat. He gulped it down, trying unsuccessfully to keep his voice and breathing even. "Mrs. Hart, I've never been accused of behaving unethically toward my students, and I resent your question. I have the greatest respect for Addison. We share a desk, and our phones are always out and in use. This was a simple mix-up, nothing more." There. That sounded goo
d, right?
"I'm glad to hear it. See to it she has her phone in the morning and kindly tell her I would like to hear from her. She was supposed to arrive home from Paris today, but it sounds like she made it in last night. Since she met with you this morning, that is."
"I'll let her know," he said, ignoring the doubt and innuendo in the woman's words. They hung up and Grey fell back on his bed and closed his eyes.
Addy grabbed a blanket, a tub of ice cream, and a DVD of The African Queen. She'd just pushed play when her phone rang. Her eyes glued to the television, she reached to the end table and fumbled for the phone. She swiped it on, dropped it, picked it up and pressed it to her ear. Her mouth was open to say hello when a woman's voice spoke.
"Mmm, you haven't called me all week. I hope you're in the mood to do some catching up, Grey. I need your mouth on me, now. When can I come over?"
Addison nearly choked on air. "I…I'm so sorry, I think you've got the wrong number."
"What?" The woman's low, seductive tone abruptly switched to high-pitched and angry. "Who the hell is this?"
"Who the hell is this?" Addison spat back. "You've got the wrong number, I said."
"I do not have the wrong number. I dialed this from speed dial. Why do you have Greyson's phone?"
"I don't have…." She stopped and held the phone in front of her. She checked the screen and realized the truth. "Okay," she said into the phone, "I do have Greyson's—I mean Dr. McDaniel's phone. I'm so sorry, I'm not sure how this happened."
"I can tell you how it happened. You fucked him, and while you were gathering up your things to slink away like the whore that you are, you took his phone instead of yours."
"How dare you!"
"No, how dare you! I demand to know who you are—"
"Demand all you want, but I don't owe you any explanation. The truth is perfectly innocent, but you've already passed judgment on me, so fuck you." She hung up and dropped the phone on the coffee table.
She was shaking with rage, humiliation, and something else. Fear. What if this sunk them? What if all the trouble they'd gone to to hide their feelings over the past three years was pointless because of a stupid phone mix-up.
A knock at her door shocked her to her feet. She hurried over and peeped out the peep hole. Grey stood there in jeans and a t-shirt, his glasses on, his hair pulled up in a stubby ponytail like he did when he was going to the gym or having a casual day.
She whipped open the door. "Your mom called," he said, handing her her phone. She ran over to the coffee table, retrieved his phone, and gave it to him.
"Your…your girlfriend."
His face paled, some. "I lied. I told your mom we met this morning briefly in my office to talk about mid-terms. I don't think she believed me. What did you tell Caroline?"
"Please don't say her name."
"Sorry."
"She called me a whore. I told her to fuck off, or something like that."
He laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "God. Okay. So does she know who you are?"
Addy shook her head no.
"All right. Well if you confirm my lie with your mom, then we should be okay."
"What will you tell the shrieking harpie?"
Grey laughed again. "Jesus, Addison. I don't know, I'll tell her I met someone at a bar or something. We're supposed to have an open relationship, but if she got that pissed at you, maybe it's not as open as I thought."
Addy nodded and thought through it all. "We should be okay, then. Just no more slip-ups."
He nodded. "I'm really sorry you had to go through that."
She just glared at him. "Goodbye, Grey."
He looked miserable. "Goodbye, Addison."
She slammed and locked the door in his face. The last thing she'd needed at her most vulnerable moment, was to get yelled at by that horrible woman and to be reminded of the fact that Grey was sleeping with her. Using his mouth on her. It wasn't fair.
Addy clung to her blanket, trying to watch her movie, but her vision kept blurring, and tears kept pouring down her cheeks. Stupid tears. Stupid feelings. At last, the sobs escaped, and she curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, trying to keep herself from flying into a thousand pieces.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Grey arrived at his office at nine as usual. It was because of his lovely teaching assistant that he enjoyed the luxury of sleeping a little later on Monday mornings. He'd always hated teaching Freshman Political Science, and he'd always hated Monday mornings. Addison had removed them both from his shoulders.
He sat behind his desk, empty and devoid of feelings. He'd agonized over Addison last night. That was in between phone calls with a yelling, sobbing, Caroline. Now, he was simply emotionally exhausted. He leaned back in his chair and stared at his desk. There was work to do and any moment he would sit up and do it. But still, he kept staring.
His office door was already open when Addison walked in, with a young, blond girl trailing behind. Addison slammed her books on her small, corner desk. "This is Gwen. She's unhappy with my comments on her essay."
Gwen, smiling and perky, took a seat in front of Grey's desk. Addy sat in her chair and swiveled around to face him.
Gwen glanced back at Addy. "I'd really prefer to have this meeting without Professor Hart."
Grey lifted his eyebrows at Addy who was glaring at the back of Gwen's head. "Um, sure," Grey said. "I can ask Ms. Hart to leave. But since this concerns her, you should know I'm likely to share our discussion with her."
"No secrets between you two?" Gwen asked, with a wink and a smile.
"Probably not about this," Grey said.
Gwen's smile dimmed. "That's fine. But I'd still feel more comfortable speaking to you alone."
Addison didn't need to be told. She grabbed her laptop bag, made a rude gesture behind Gwen's back, and left. Grey fought back a smile at Addy's immature behavior. As soon as she was gone, Gwen stood. "Would you mind if I close the door? This is a matter of some delicacy."
"I prefer to leave it open…"
She already had it closed and was sitting back in her chair. She crossed her legs, her skirt riding up high on her thighs. "Addison's had it out for me since the beginning of the semester."
Grey leaned back in his chair, made his expression blank, and steepled his fingers.
"I've read essays way worse than mine that have gotten better grades. Her comments are borderline abusive—"
"How so?"
"Well, just look." She dug in the backpack she'd sat next to her feet and came out with a paper. "Right here she says, 'It's clear you haven't done the assigned reading. This paper doesn't meet the requirements. If you'd like a chance at a half-grade, see me after class.' She accused me, falsely, of not doing the reading. That is an attack on my character, and I won't stand for it."
Grey frowned in thought. "Did you redo the essay?"
"I most certainly did not. I want you to grade it. My parents paid for a class with Dr. Greyson McDaniel, not his teaching assistant."
Grey leaned forward and held out his hand for the paper. Gwen handed it to him. "Here's the thing about these Freshman classes. The curriculum is basically the same. Meaning if you took this class with Dr. Sears or Dr. Markham, you'd be getting the same instruction, same basic grading standards. Ms. Hart taught this course last year. She's extremely devout when it comes to the syllabus and her standards for grading, which is why I don't police her actions too often. I can look at this paper for you, but the chances are, I'm going to agree with Ms. Hart's assessment."
Gwen sighed. "I just want a fair grade. If you think I didn't do a good job, then I'd like the chance to do better."
"Ms. Hart offered you that chance."
"For half the grade. That would kill my overall grade, and I've got my GPA to consider." She stood and leaned forward on his desk, her blouse open at the top, revealing her cleavage. Grey kept his eyes dutifully above her neck.
"Like I said, I'll look at it. But I don't make exce
ptions to class policy—"
She stepped back, undid another button on her blouse, and made her way around his desk. "Never?" she asked, with a pout on her lip and in her voice.
Grey immediately saw what was happening. He stood to put his desk chair between himself and her. "Ms. Morris, I assure you, that won't work on me. Please leave. I'll contact you about your paper."
"I'm sure there's something I can offer you to convince you I'm right." As she spoke, she reached beneath her skirt and pulled off her pink, lace panties, hanging them on his lamp. Then she sat on the edge of his desk and spread her legs.
He was about to tell her, once more, to get the hell out of his office, when there was a sudden knock at his door. His colleague, Dr. Markham—a crabby, schoolmarm of a woman—came in. "Dr. McDaniel, I wanted to talk to—" She froze as she took in the scene.
As he was about to assure Dr. Markham that this was not what it looked like, Gwen leapt off the desk, clutched her shirt closed, grabbed her backpack and ran sobbing out of the office. Unfortunately, her panties remained on the lamp. "I swear to God, Ellen—"
Dr. Markham's eyes narrowed as she made her final judgment. "I always knew you were a slime bag. That whole gentleman act was just a mask. I'm going to the dean."
"Ellen, she was trying to get a good grade. I didn't touch her. I've never—"
"Save it for the committee. We'll see how many other victims come forward." She turned on her heel and left.
Grey stood dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. It wasn't that there hadn't been a girl or two over the years hint that she'd be willing to sleep with him for a grade. It was that none had been as aggressive as Gwen.
Addison came back in, beelining for her desk, not looking at him. "Did you get her taken care of?"
He had no words. Addison pulled a book out of her bag and opened up her laptop. "It won't hurt my feelings," she said, "if you want to give her an A just to shut her up. I'd have done it myself if I'd known what a pain in the ass she was going to be."