by Jillian Neal
“Not I nor anyone else can read your thoughts, love. That’s why communication is so important. And people pay drastically little attention to anything that is not themselves. We’re both nervous enough right now we’ll be on constant guard. It will be in a few months when we’ve figured out how to interact in class without suspicion that will be the most dangerous, but I am about to ask you to do something that I abhor having to ask you to do.”
“What? Anything.”
“I saw the moment your friend realized who I was to you. I’ve never wanted to have the ability to erase a person’s mind more than I did right then. I need you to tell her we decided not to pursue a relationship once we figured out that I’m your professor. We just can’t take any chances.”
“Beth is my friend. She’d never say anything.”
Oh, to be twenty-three with that much innocence and faith in humanity. Dec hated himself all the more for being the one that was going to force her to give up those last few fleeting markers of youth. He wondered if he’d ever believed in anything as much as she believed in her friend. Her. Them. His mind readily supplied two things he believed in that much, but it was a very short list.
“God, I hate myself for making you lie.” He tried to delicately disagree and leave no question as to what had to be done.
“I’m a terrible liar.”
“We don’t have to do this. I’ll wait for you forever, but I have to teach for an entire year. That will get me enough hours to take the Nebraska Licensing Exam. After that, things get easier.”
“We are not standing still, remember? I’ll tell her. It’s fine. Next year we’ll come clean.”
“If you aren’t in my classes next semester, we can come clean then.”
“She’ll understand whenever we’re able to tell her.”
Dec sincerely hoped that was true. He cradled Holly closer, rather enjoying the scent of his body wash on her skin coupled with her coffee. Invisible notes of his possession she would carry with her throughout the day.
“Would it sound terribly clichéd to say that I’m jealous of that mug getting to touch your lips this morning?”
“Have you ever tried coffee, Dr.?”
“Got me through the psych program at a very advanced pace. I much prefer tea.”
“Oh really?” She leaned in and mated their mouths. When she opened for him, he swept his tongue through her mouth, memorizing the flavors of her coffee-laced kiss.
“When you put it that way, nothing could ever taste better.”
Apparently satisfied with his answer, she nuzzled her head against his neck. “Could I just sit in your lap and drink coffee for a little while and pretend we never have to leave?”
His first class wasn’t until 9:30, and there was nothing he wanted more than to hold her just a little longer. “Nothing would make me happier, but we should eat the delectable meal you prepared.”
“It’s just eggs. Nothing special.”
“You made them for me. Therefore, they are very, very special.”
An hour later, Holly drove her truck down Dec’s long driveway and nervously glanced up and down the street, terrified someone would see her leaving. Successfully escaping his neighborhood would be followed by trying to convince Beth that they’d broken up. Whoever thought forbidden love was exciting and romantic was an idiot. It’s simultaneously the most magical and the most terrifying parts of your entire life.
She quickly made her way out of the subdivision and eased a little as she blended into Lincoln traffic. Thoughts of Dec being deported made the cold eggs she’d finally eaten turn to concrete in her stomach. She would not allow that to happen. This would be fine.
Taking her time, she swung by the drugstore and browsed for nothing in particular. She picked up toothpaste, tampons, and a few romance novels since her nights would not be spent with Dec and she didn’t feel up to going out with friends. After that, she headed to her apartment for the purposes of leaving from there to go to campus.
When she slid into a chair at the library beside Beth she attempted to look heartbroken. Beth studied her oddly. “What’s wrong with you? I tried to call you last night but you never answered.”
“Yeah, I sort of spent the night in tears.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. She had cried the night before.
Beth took another inventory of Holly. “You are aware I’m getting a degree in behavioral psychology and therefore I am aware when you lie. You’re one of my best friends, Holl. You look like you’re trying to look upset.”
“Dammit, I am upset. I’m not trying to look upset. Who even does that?”
“A person who’s hiding something.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” This was never going to work. Holly was the worst liar ever.
“Holly Camden, you go set your riding pants on fire. You are a liar, liar. Now, what is it you’re lying about?” She leaned closer and Holly jerked backwards.
“Mm-hmm, you smell like sexy expensive dude. You were at Professor Sex’s house.”
“Shhh,hhh,hhh!” Holly all but strangled her friend.
“Oh my God, this is so exciting.”
“Beth, no. You can’t tell anyone. At all. Ever. Please. It could ruin his life.”
“Holl, I would never. I’m just a hopeless romantic. I want this to work out. You look so happy. Kind of settled, but in a really good way. Like content maybe. Can’t I be excited for you?”
“It would really be better if you just pretended you didn’t know.”
“Okay, can I act excited if it’s just the two of us?”
“Not on campus.”
“Deal. I’m so excited.”
“Beth,” Holly pled. “Right now we have to focus on anal fun.”
“Oh, I’ll bet Professor Sex can help you out with some. . . .”
Holly clamped her hand over Beth’s mouth. “You will not say what you were just about to say.” Beth managed a nod. “Until you leave this campus after our classes, you will not even think about the two of us, and if you do think about it you understand I will be forced to throw you on the ground and tie you up calf-roping style.” Another nod. “And you know that I know how to do that with only one hand while blindfolded.” And another. “Good girl.” Holly released her.
“Speaking of blindfolds. . . .”
“Beth, I swear on my best saddle, I will hurt you.”
“Kidding. I’m kidding.”
Beth managed to keep her mouth shut through their statistics class, which was slammed full of doctoral students in their first semester. Holly dutifully took notes on bell curves and outliers, though she’d been over this review in the four stats classes she’d taken in the last three years.
She’d only seen Dec once so far, and hated that she was almost glad of that. He’d been crossing the quad from the psychological sciences building to the research center. He’d rushed across the parking lot, fleeing his demons, she assumed.
Seeing him made her weak-kneed and panicked. It confused her soul. Her heart wanted to rush to him to kiss the tense frown off of his face. She wanted to ask how his day was going. She wanted to follow him into his office, lock the door, and do something extremely naughty that would plant a permanent smile on his face for the rest of the day. Her brain knew those things were absolutely the stupidest ideas she could possibly even consider. She spent the last half of Statistics drowning out Dr. Simpson’s laborious drone with her own internal lecture about having thoughts like that on campus. The term deportation took on the gut punch words like failure, rejection, and disappointment used to carry.
Dec sat in his office attempting to work on his lesson plans, keenly aware that Holly was still on campus somewhere. He sensed her presence the same way he could sense a user or a dealer. Nice analogy, St. James. You’re an asshole, by the way. His brain mocked him, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the only thing in the world whose love roared even louder than his demons. How did he have any hope of ignoring her siren call?
It too
k every ounce of fortitude he possessed to stay in his posh leather seat. He could text her to meet him somewhere discreet. Hell, he could instruct her to meet him at his house and never to leave and she would have obeyed. Tossing down his pencil, he reached for his Gibson Les Paul he’d brought just for this purpose. He didn’t need an amp to play. He wasn’t looking to piss off his colleagues. Besides, his entire life had been muted by this stupid job, so why not mute his music, too?
He strummed through the first few chords of Lay It Down by Aerosmith. The lyrics slipped quietly from his lips, half sung, half spoken. The knock on his office door and the text on his phone sounded at the same moment, severing the music, severing his life.
‘I’m alone. I’m in my car. I just miss you and I love you and I needed to say that.’ He read the text, cringed, hated himself even more for cringing, shoved his phone in his pocket, and ordered whomever was standing at his door inside.
“Sorry to interrupt your little practice session, Dr. St. James. Kind of assumed you’d be working,” Dr. Treavor Singleton Sr. entered Dec’s office. He extended his hand and Dec reminded himself to scrub thoroughly before touching his precious cowgirl, lest she contract the jizz-trumpet’s slime. When Singleton attempted to out-grip Dec in the handshake, Dec chuckled, flexed his forearm, and felt Singleton’s hand begin to throb.
“I was working.” Dec offered nothing more. He simply dropped Singleton’s now limp hand and stood the guitar on his nearby stand.
“We didn’t get to chat much yesterday. I was kind of surprised you’d been hired. Normally all hirings within the department are approved by me.”
Dear God, the man clearly had a half-inch dick he was having trouble locating. “Did you need something, Dr. Singleton?”
“Man of few words. I like that.”
Dec refused yet another comment.
“Listen, my son, Trevor Jr., is in one of your foundations research classes. Just thought I’d see how you thought he was gonna do.”
“I’ve only had one session of each of my classes. I have no idea how your son will perform.”
Frustration tensed the plastered appearance of Singleton’s face. One too many face-lifts, if Dec had to guess. “Well, you know what I mean. Doctor to doctor.”
“I have no idea what you mean. Their first paper will be due next Monday. I might could tell you more after I’ve read Jr.’s work.”
“Newsome’s being disagreeable about whom he’s offering his preferential treatment to this year. Everyone’s jumped on this absurd politically correct bandwagon. In my day, a man’s name meant something. Rich is just being stubborn. Says Trev didn’t put forth any effort on his thesis work. Has his eye on some ridiculous cowgirl no one in Lincoln’s ever even heard of. Women’s lib and all that. Either that or he’d like to get her out of her boots. I’m trying to talk him into taking the girl and doing whatever he wants with her, but also giving Trevor a spot. He’ll come around once he’s graduated. Just sowing his wild oats like his old man. Rich keeps insisting that Trev’s grades improve before he considers being his supervisor.”
The pencil Dec had picked up off of his desk snapped in his hand. Possessive fury rocketed up his spine. Do not react. Pretend she means nothing to you. He vibrated in his seat. Bile lodged in his throat. He tried to reason through Singleton’s mindless drivel. Newsome not wanting to become Trevor’s supervisor had nothing to do with Holly. He didn’t seem the kind of man to abuse his power. Of course, until last night, Dec would have sworn he wasn’t the kind of man who would ever be caught in the predicament of dating one of his students.
He managed a half breath and tried to steady his heart, hellbent on escaping his ribcage to pummel Singleton on Holly’s behalf. “Sounds to me like Trevor needs to improve his grades if he wants the coveted position of being Newsome’s protégé.”
“That’s why I’m in here, St. James. I see no reason why you can’t help Trev do just that.”
“What exactly are you suggesting, Singleton?” Dec discreetly reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone.
“I’m just saying that if Trev should need any kind of help it would behoove you to give him that help. I did my research. I already know your visa has been funneled through Lifespan and then through the University. Set all of the dominoes up in your own favor, St. James. Don’t be stupid. It only takes one screw up to send you packing, and I am keenly aware of that.”
With a desperate prayer that Holly wouldn’t text him again for a split second, Dec held up the phone. “I’ll be more than happy to give Trevor as much help as he needs, seeing as he is one of my students. In fact, I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to know that I took the liberty of recording everything you’ve asked for just so I can remind myself of your expectations for me in the department.”
Singleton’s eyes flashed with hatred, but he recovered with the skill of the well-trained sociopath he was. “You can’t scare me, St. James. There’s a reason my family’s name is all over this campus. My wife and are both deeply ingrained in the department and the board. Not to mention the depths of our well-lined pockets.”
“Noted.” Dec was quite certain he’d never hated anyone more than the man currently seated before his desk.
“Glad you understand.”
Another knock sounded on the office door before Dec could order Singleton from the premises. Dr. Richard Newsome himself poked his head in.
“So sorry to interrupt, gentlemen. Everything okay in here?”
“Just fine, Rich,” Singleton lied quite naturally of course.
“Dr. St. James, everything okay?” Dr. Newsome seemed to have Singleton’s number. Dec felt a little of his sanity return.
“We were just discussing Trevor, Jr., Rich,” Singleton continued to answer on Dec’s behalf.
“Oh, I feel certain you were. Listen, Dr. St. James, I know Gibbons and myself threw you under the bus with this position. To tell you the truth, I’ve been so impressed with your background and your work I’d been trying to figure out how to hire you on for the past several months. Lifespan’s loss is most certainly our gain. If I can do anything at all to make this transition easier for you, do not hesitate to ask.”
You could give me a pass to date the woman I’m quite certain I’d love to marry that got caught in the crosshairs of this ridiculous situation. Dec ground his teeth to keep that particular request trapped in his throat. “Thank you, sir,” he managed a full minute later. “I’ll do my best. Been several years since I taught.”
“It’s like riding a bike. You’ll be great. I have every confidence, and listen, I have several things I’d like to discuss with you, off-campus perhaps. How about dinner Saturday evening at Rodizio with my wife and me? Feel free to bring a date.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.” Fucking hell. He’d answered far too quickly. Now, he’d given up one of the only nights he could see Holly and had left himself without any viable excuses to get out of it. Newsome studied him for far too long. An odd smile formed on his features. Dec felt like he’d been locked in a pressure cooker. “Saturday night would be lovely. Thank you. I’ll see you then.”
“Perfect. Singleton, let’s let Dr. St. James get back to his work. I feel quite certain he doesn’t need any instruction on his methods of teaching or on playing the guitar.” Newsome gestured to the Les Paul. “I’ve heard he’s rather gifted at both.”
“Thank you, sir.” Dec watched the men leave his office while he held several debates in his mind. What the hell had Newsome meant when he’d said he was impressed with Dec’s background? Drug addiction wasn’t an admirable thing and that was the only real background Dec was aware he had. Surely, Newsome hadn’t meant he was impressed with Dec’s ability to work a sheep farm. And how badly had he just fucked up, showing Singleton his hand too quickly? It was a grievous tactical error. He could have held onto the recording if anything should go wrong in the future. Singleton fucked his last nerve repeatedly, but that was no excuse. He had to play the hand he’d
been dealt, not continue to lament his cards.
Taking his phone out of his pocket, he texted Holly back. Told her he loved her and missed her, too. Refrained from scolding her for texting him during school hours or telling her that his phone had been laying on his desk and Singleton had been standing outside his office door. None of that was her problem. It was his. He needed to be more careful. And merciful Jesus, he needed to see her. He needed touch her and kiss her. He desperately needed her to lie to him again and tell him that everything would work out just fine.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Can I ask you something rather loathsome, darling?” Dec asked as soon as she answered the phone. He stepped inside his home and willed it not to feel so empty without her there.
“Hi, babe. How was your day? I missed you, and this is a lot harder than I originally thought it was going to be, but I still know what we’re doing is the right thing. I know we’re worth this. Now then, yes, you can ask me whatever you want.”
“I’m very sorry I left out the pleasantries. I told you I’m no good at this, and don’t think I didn’t hear you say this was harder than you thought it was going to be. We’ll talk about that in just a minute. I just need to ask this.”
“Dec, it’s fine. I was teasing. Ask me anything.”
“What can you tell me about either Trevor Singleton Jr. or his father?”
“Pardon me while I go vomit, then I might be able to talk about those no-good shitlickers, both junior and senior.”
Every single thing he’d endured that day washed away in the sound of her voice when she let that cowgirl drawl slip in. He grabbed a can of soda from his fridge and settled on his sofa. “Is there any way at all I could convince you to revert back to your cowgirl way of speaking permanently?”
“Like my drawl, do you?”
“It’s brilliant. I’m adding it to the unending list of things I adore about you.”