Breaking Gravity (Fall Back Series #2)

by Autumn Grey

  The haze in my head clears, and I hear the sound of feet shuffling and loud heckling in the hallway outside the class. I straighten and spin around, bounding down the steps that lead to the podium. Lowering my body into the chair behind my desk—more to hide my arousal—I school my features to an inscrutable expression and watch the students as their steps falter on the threshold when they notice me, then proceed to shuffle toward their respective seats. My gaze subtly drifts to Elon currently arranging her pens in order, but her hand is shaking so badly that she has to curl it into a fist before starting all over again. Her flushed cheeks puff as she blows a breath through her mouth before sneaking a look in my direction but quickly looks away when our eyes meet, worrying her lip between her teeth just as her friend Amber takes her usual place next to her, then scoots closer to the red-haired temptation at her right and says something.

  My heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m out of breath. My entire body is shaking like a junkie in need of her next fix, and the whooshing in my ears makes it impossible to hear anything other than the panic tearing me apart. Amber’s mouth is moving, but I can’t figure out what she’s saying. She snaps her fingers in front of my eyes to catch my attention, but the only thing running through my head is, oh God, oh God, oh God, my professor almost kissed me and he smells like an invitation to the wild side. And holy shit how I wanted to take him up on his offer. I wanted to press my lips to his so badly. I flirted back, so wrapped up in the ever-present force that seems to bind us whenever we’re in the same radius.

  The thudding in my ears seizes immediately at that revelation, and Amber’s urgent whisper finally penetrates through my panic.

  “Earth to Elon!” I blink, and her worried face comes into focus. “What’s going on with you?”

  “Nothing.” Think, Elon. Freaking think. “When did you get here?”

  Good one. Now she’ll know something is really going on.

  Her eyes widen, quickly filling with tears. “Is it Josh? Oh gosh, is he—”

  “No! No, no.” I’m quick to reassure her. “Josh is. . .” I let the sentence trail off, unable to formulate the right words. When I spoke to Nor last evening, she told me Josh’s condition hadn’t changed. It was just a matter of time before death claimed him.

  My chest twists painfully just thinking about it. Thinking about Nor and my nieces. Any lingering thoughts of my professor momentarily taking a back seat in favor of my current fears.

  “Josh is not doing great,” I finally say, feeling my throat tighten and my eyes burn with tears. “I’m afraid to think of what might happen after he’s gone. How will Nor and the girls move on from this?”

  “You think she’ll start cutting again?” she asks quietly.

  I shrug. Honestly, I have no idea what will happen. I trust my sister implicitly.

  When I was nine years old, I asked her if she felt weird when people stared at the scars on her arms. Her answer has stuck with me through the years, guiding me. Reminding me, no matter how big our problems are, everyone has the option to choose to survive or give up.

  “No. I have a feeling she won’t relapse this time. Not like after Cole left.”

  “She will not,” Amber declares vehemently. “She might be tiny, but she’s so strong. You girls are survivors.”

  We exchange a smile as she covers my hand with hers, giving it a quick squeeze of comfort, before pulling it away again.

  I tilt my head back and close my eyes to ward off any thoughts of Josh dying. When I open them again and look around the class to make sure the lesson hasn’t started yet, my eyes collide with Professor Rowe’s searching gaze. A little frown has formed between his eyebrows now, which makes me wonder how long he’s been looking in our direction. I swiftly look down at my hands on my lap, feeling my cheeks heat up, and clear my throat.

  Amber bumps my shoulder with hers and whispers, “Hot Professor is staring at us. He’s got that scowling thing down pat. I’d date him if he wasn’t against the rules.” She adds the latter jokingly.

  Heat pools in my tummy, just thinking of that scowl. At the same time, this weird feeling slices through my chest, and suddenly I want to punch my best friend. Hard.

  “Remember Alex? Your boyfriend?” I question a little too forcefully, glaring at her.

  “Sheeesh, E. Possessive much?” She narrows her eyes at me, probably wondering where the animosity is coming from.

  The bell rings again, signaling the lesson is about to begin and saving me from reacting to her question.

  Thank God.

  Turning my tense body from her to avoid any more scrutiny, I inhale deeply to calm my nerves before turning to face my hot professor in front of the class.

  If I don’t stop staring at Elon like a worried, lovesick puppy, someone is bound to notice. I can tell from the way she and her friend are whispering and their body language that whatever it is they are talking about is serious. The moment our eyes meet, heat slams into my groin as I remember how close I was to tasting that sweet as sin mouth of hers.

  The first bell sounds, pulling me away from my staring. When I scan the class, I meet several pairs of eyes bouncing between me and where Elon and Amber are sitting. From the look in my students’ eyes, I can only imagine their assumption that the two girls are in trouble or something. I guess wearing a permanent frown has its advantages.

  They turn their heads downwards when my expression turns into a glare, which gives my mind a few seconds to drift back to Miss Blake before the lesson officially starts.

  From what I’ve learned so far about Elon Blake, she’s a hardworking, determined student. If she and I were found in a compromising position, she would end up being expelled and I’d lose my job. The last few weeks, my new job has been a welcome distraction from the restlessness I had been feeling these past years since the accident.

  As Miss Blake’s professor, I should be a better role model, not trying to seduce her.

  I really don’t want to kiss you, too.

  Her response to my lie. Fuck.

  I need to get my shit together.

  The second bell rings to signal the start of the lesson. I ignore her for the rest of class, and as soon as the time is up and I turn my back on my students, my lungs deflate as air leaves them. Attraction and lust are two vicious beasts, and trying to ignore Elon while feeling her heated gaze on me is exhausting.

  By the time I’m packed and ready to leave, the classroom has already emptied out. I sigh, relieved, before heading to my next class.

  My last class of the morning ended an hour ago, which is why my ass is parked behind my desk at one o’clock in the afternoon, going over the printouts in front of me. I’m eager to put a distance between myself and Elon, and hopefully the weekend will help clear my head of the infatuation I have with her.

  Adjusting the glasses on the bridge of my nose, I scan the printouts in my hands, taking in Miss Blake’s meticulous work. The rows and columns are broken down into sections, showing the students who have been confirmed and are waiting to be auditioned for the two-week Strings Master class I will be teaching in the summer with three visiting professors from San Francisco and London. I’d had the pleasure of working with the latter on several occasions during my master’s degree in performance at Royal College of Music.

  Shouldn’t there be more names here? From the list that was handed over to me after Professor Harris’s sudden retirement, there was an overwhelming response for this class, and we were hoping to get in as many students as possible from local communities and Rushmore to join the lecture.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, weighing my choices: I could either pull up the file from my computer and scour through the notes and end up spending more time in the office, or I could summon my fixation and check with her, saving time.

  “Miss Blake!”

  She walks into the room and stops a few feet from me, fixing her wide-eyed gaze on me. How can she look so calm and unaffected, when I feel every fucking single emotion te
aring through me, reminding me of what being hopeful feels like? How feeling my heart racing like it is right now is like no other high? Ever. No one would believe she and I had a heated moment before class. Hell, I’m beginning to doubt we ever did, which pisses me off. For some stupid reason, I want to remind her how hot we can be.

  “Is this the finalized list? Shouldn’t there be more names on it?” I bite out the words and instantly regret the harsh tone.

  Her eyes flicker to the papers in my hand before meeting mine, chin raised. “I went through the information the applicants provided to make sure they were qualified to take the class. Fifty-five percent of the applications didn’t make the cut.”

  I glare at the report. “Is there any chance of getting the number to fifty percent?”

  “We could try.” She points to the right side on the printouts. “These are the names on the waiting list numbered according to their qualifications. I’ll prepare the invitations.”

  I scribble some notes by hand below the waitlisted names, then glance up. “Great job.”

  She blinks, then stares at me like I’m a ticking time bomb. Or maybe she expects me to take back those words. Her lack of confidence in me leaves a sour taste in my mouth. She is a quiet, little thing, but her eyes. . .they say everything her mouth doesn’t. And right now, she doesn’t trust me.

  Good girl.

  Even I wouldn’t trust me.

  I clear my throat and allow my lips to lift in a minuscule smile. The change in her is like the sun breaking through stormy clouds. Her features relax, and a smile lights up her face. If I thought she was beautiful before, she’s stunning when she smiles like that.

  “Thank you, Professor Rowe.”

  My name rolls off her tongue, and a high close to that of my nightly joints hits me hard. I shouldn’t yearn to hear her say it over and over again, but I do. That thought brings everything to a screeching halt.

  “You can go.” I dismiss her abruptly, unfeeling even.

  She flinches, her smile disappearing from her sweet face. Her fingers subconsciously move to tuck invisible strands of hair into her tight bun. Then she turns and walks toward the door with her head held high, as if I didn’t just rain on her parade with my foul mood caused by my lack of control. Just before she walks out, she stops and turns to face me. Her eyes shine with something like. . .courage? Defiance? I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s damn arousing.

  “What happened in class today?” she asks, as if wanting to reaffirm that that little scene actually took place.

  “A mistake, Miss Blake,” I answer back, my left hand gripping the edge of my desk to remind myself the girl standing in front of me is forbidden.

  She nods, color rising to her cheeks, her lips slightly tightening. “Right. It will not happen again.”

  She turns and walks out of the room, her hips swaying gently. Even that gigantic sweater doesn’t hide her full hips and sexy round ass.

  Her scent floats in the air around me long after she’s gone. I lean back in my seat, readjust myself in my pants, grunting in frustration when my dick hardens further just thinking about her tight little body beneath those fitted jeans and bulky sweater.

  Looks like my hand and my dick have another hot date tonight with a dose of cold shower. Just like last night and every other night before that.

  Great.

  SATURDAY MORNING, I PARK THE Jeep in a spot in front of Izzy’s house and step out of my car. I promised my sister I would take my niece and nephew to the zoo, just like I’ve been doing every Saturday for the past couple of months to give her some alone time. My chest fills with warmth when Matthew rushes out the door, dressed in a white, short-sleeved T-shirt with the word Pokémon on the chest. He bounds down the steps, waving his arms wildly as he makes his way toward me.

  “Uncle Nate!” he shouts, grinning wide. I scoop him up in my arms, that simple action sending a sharp pain through my shoulder and down my right arm, forcing my eyes to tear up.

  Motherfucker.

  “What’s wrong?” Matthew pulls back, his eyebrows scrunched up in a worried frown.

  Shaking my head, I force a laugh and shift his squirming body to my left arm. “Just a little sore spot on my shoulder. Ready to go?”

  He beams up at me and wraps his little arms around my neck in a tight hug, nodding vigorously. He wiggles in my arms, eager to get loose. As soon as his feet touch the wet asphalt, he dashes toward the house mumbling something under his breath. I stand there, trying to regain the wind Matthew knocked out of me.

  “Matthew Thomas Reed!” Izzy’s voice fills the air, causing Matthew to freeze mid-run. My sister steps out the front door, one hand resting on her swollen belly, the free one holding a jacket. “Get back here and put this on.”

  “Oh shit,” I hear him mumble under his breath before he yells, “Yes, Mama!”

  “Matthew,” I chide him in a low voice, half-amused. “Do you know what will happen if your mom hears you say that?”

  He turns his big, brown eyes up at me and whispers, “Don’t tell her. She’s already mad at me.”

  I dart a look at my sister, then back to my nephew and fight a chuckle as I watch the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “What did you do?”

  He kicks the gravel with his boot. “I broke Kaylie’s doll.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  “She broke my Pokémon ball. So I wanted to hurt her the same way she hurt me.” His eyebrows deepen a little. “Tit for tat.”

  We climb up the porch steps, and he takes the jacket from his mother and slips it on. Then I crouch down so that he and I are on the same eye level.

  “Did you talk to your sister about it?”

  He shakes his head, his curly hair bouncing around every which way.

  “You think she did it on purpose?”

  He shrugs and scowls harder, if that were possible.

  I swear this boy reminds me of myself when I was his age. I’m two years older than my sister. She and I used to pick fights with each other at the tiniest provocation. As much as I adored her, I also wanted to declare my dominance and remind her I was the oldest between us and that she should treat me with the respect I deserved. Our mother never let us go to bed without apologizing to each other.

  My gaze darts up to Izzy and we exchange a smile, her eyes gleaming with mischievousness so similar to her son’s. I chuckle and look down to Matthew.

  “Maybe you should talk to her first, before we leave.”

  He blinks, the mischievous look gone now. He folds his arms over his chest and pushes out his bottom lip in a pout. “But she started it!”

  I nod and push the locks of hair off his eyes. “I know. But as her big brother, it’s good to set the right example so she can learn from you.”

  He bites his bottom lip, the frown on his little face disappearing, and he huffs an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Can we go to the zoo after that?”

  “Sure, buddy.”

  And with that, he spins on his heel and darts inside the house while yelling his sister’s name. I straighten from the crouched position and tuck my hands inside my jeans pockets.

  “Wow. Impressive. I wish you’d have given yourself that advice when you were his age, big brother,” Izzy grumbles as she turns and waddles inside the house.

  I follow her and close the door behind me. “What would have been the fun in that?”

  “Jackass. Leave your shoes at the door.”

  I do as I’m told before walking into the living room. “Short Legs,” I mutter loud enough for her to hear from across the room, using her childhood nickname.

  She shoots me a glare, but I see her lips twitch as if fighting a smile.

  Bennett walks in from the kitchen and folds Izzy into his massive, inked arms, then says, “He’s just jealous of your legs, baby. Have you seen his skinny legs? One word: Spongebob.” He smiles evilly at me.

  “Fuck off,” I say with a laugh just as Matthew returns with Makayla trotting after him as fast as her
four-year-old legs can carry her, shouting “Uncle Nate! Uncle Nate!”.

  My heart tugs just hearing her call me that. So cute. She skids to a stop in front of me and waves her little arms and fingers letting me know that she wants me to pick her up, unable to resist.

  She waves a pink and blue bracelet in my direction, similar to the one I’ve been wearing that she gave me for my birthday last year. I help her put it around my wrist, then hold out my arm for her approval. Her eyes light up, and just looking at her beaming at me like I hung the moon and the stars tugs at my heart.

  “Girls are gonna fall at your feet,” Bennett singsongs in his deep voice, causing my niece to giggle.

  Yeah, I’m not taking that bait. Not in front of Kaylie. I have a reputation to live up to as the best uncle in the world.

  “Oh hey, Nate. What happened on Thursday at Reed’s?” Izzy asks.

  I turn to meet her curious gaze, my chest tightening as I remember Thursday night’s events at Reed’s Lounge.

  “What do you mean?” I ask

  “You left without saying anything to Bennett or me.”

  I exhale a sigh of relief. She must not have noticed my strange behavior. I’m about to open my mouth and answer her when she says, “Was it that girl? The one who was playing cello?”

  Shit. “I wasn’t feeling too well.” Bennett’s brow arches up, and I decide to back up my claim and shut this down completely. “My shoulder was acting up again.”

  Bennett snorts, then tries to cover it with an awkward cough when my sister shoots him a frown.

  You know what the worst thing is about having your childhood best friend become your brother-in-law? His ability to read you like a fucking book.

  I shoot him a glare, my hand twitching to wipe the knowing grin from his face, but Izzy watches me with a worried look.

  “You okay?” she questions. “You don’t really need to take the kids to the zoo if you’re not feeling well.”