by Avery Kaye
“Thanks.”
I don’t give a crap about the rain pelting me as I stroll back to my dorm. I am so excited! I’ve just agreed to be this year’s student admin for the math department!
This year is going to be awesome! I know it!
2
Jordan
Have I made a big mistake?
Probably.
But after I heard Kelsey Steele talking to her friend, I had no choice.
Some might say I’m a sick bastard.
I don’t deny it.
In fact, I tell myself all the time I shouldn’t be thinking the kinds of dirty thoughts that I have about her. That girl’s sweet face and body have been haunting my dreams since she stepped into my first year calculus class. I give myself a little credit, however. It’s been pure hell, but I have never touched her or spoken one inappropriate word to her, ever.
And I never would have.
But…something has changed.
Am I playing with fire, hiring her as our student admin? No doubt about it.
Were there other options, other students I could have hired instead? Yes.
But I have my reasons for picking Kelsey. And they’re one hundred percent selfish.
On Monday I found out Kelsey Steele is interested. In me.
The timing could be better, but that’s okay. She’s a senior. She’ll be graduating in May. I can’t pursue her now. I can’t touch her. I can’t lay a single finger on her.
But…
This job is the perfect opportunity to spend some time with her. I can talk to her. I can get to know everything about her.
What she likes to eat.
What her plans are for after graduation.
Whether some asshole is trying to get in her pants.
I dare any little bastard to try.
If everything goes the way I am hoping, Kelsey Steele will be mine. The day she graduates. Mine.
Now that I know she’s attracted to me, it’s going to be almost impossible to keep my hands off her. But somehow, I have to do it. I have to.
I glance at the clock. Six-thirty. She’s late. My heart is pounding like a fucking bass drum. I have never been so nervous around a woman. But Kelsey is different. She’s special.
Where is she?
Shit, I hope she didn’t change her mind.
What if she did? What if she found out—
I hear something.
It’s her. Yes, it’s her!
Shit, it’s her.
I jump to my feet.
“Hi,” she says as she pokes her head into my office doorway.
I motion to the chair in front of my desk. “Please, come in.”
She steps into my tiny office and slips into the chair while I remind myself to breathe.
Damn, she’s beautiful. Wide set brown eyes. A thick mane of hair, tumbling over her shoulders in heavy waves. Full breasts, nicely emphasized by her vee-neck top.
I clear my throat and lecture myself on the hazards of having an affair with a student. The consequences for me are bad. And for Kelsey. She would be kicked out of school. I have to control myself. For both our sakes. “We just need to file a bit of paperwork, and it’ll be official. I printed everything out. I need you to verify the information is correct and then sign.” I slide the documents across the desktop.
She reaches for them, and our fingertips graze. An electric current buzzes through my body, and I forget all those consequences. Poof, gone. My dick gets hard.
I am so screwed.
Screw. Yes, that’s what I want to do.
But I can’t. I won’t. It can’t happen. Until after graduation.
Kelsey peers at me for a moment then turns her attention back to the paperwork. I watch her inspect the forms. She fills in the missing information and signs. Her printing is not only neat but unique, artistic. Because I’ve only seen her write out math equations, I didn’t realize how pretty it is.
Just like the rest of her.
I shove that notion aside, along with the thought that she smells really, really good. Clean. Fresh. With a hint of a tangy citrus scent. The cologne isn’t too strong. I inhale deeply, pulling it in, savoring it.
“Okay,” she says after a few agonizing moments. “I think that’s it. When do I start?” She slides the paperwork toward me.
Today. Right now. I skim the form, my gaze locking on her birthdate. October, 1997. She’s so young. What the hell am I doing?
“Dr. Conners?” she asks.
“How about next Monday?” I suggest.
“That works. I’m free in the morning after your class, or in the afternoon after three o’clock.” She smiles. The whole universe illuminates. “Thank you, Professor Conners.”
“Please, call me Jordan.”
“Jordan.” She lowers her gaze for a moment. Her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of pink. “I’m very excited about the opportunity. To assist in the department’s research or publishing.”
“Frankly, most of the time you’ll just be doing admin work, like grading quizzes. But there will probably be some work related to the staff’s research projects or publishing from time to time.”
“I’m good with that.” She blinks huge eyes at me. “Is that all, then? Am I free to go?”
No. I don’t want you to leave yet. I’ve been thinking about this all day. “Yes. I’ll see you Monday.”
My heart sinks as I watch her leave. I check the clock. That took less than ten minutes. I should have asked her a few questions. Anything to keep her here with me a little longer. It’s Friday. Now I have to wait until Monday to see her again.
I look down at my lap. My dick is as hard as concrete. It’s a good thing I won’t be going anywhere for a while.
I go back to what I was doing before she arrived. Rather, I try to go back to work. I can’t concentrate. All I can think about is Kelsey.
Her beautiful smile.
Her sweet, heart-shaped face.
And wide eyes.
And smooth voice.
I imagine her pulling her t-shirt over her head, showing me the full, lush breasts hidden beneath.
I am fucking going to hell for thinking like this.
I might as well go home. I’m not going to get anything done, anyway.
I shut down my computer and grab my jacket from the hook on the back of the door. I have no choice but to fold my jacket over my arm and hold it in front of me, to hide my pants tent. It hasn’t gone down at all.
That girl is going to be the end of me.
Correction, I’m going to be the end of myself. It’s my weakness. My lack of control. I can’t let it get the better of me.
I know what’ll happen if it does.
The building is quiet. Most of the staff are either at dinner or gone for the weekend. I close up the department’s office and head out to my car, parked in staff parking on the other side of the student union. The rain has stopped, but the air is still cool and damp, and it smells like wet earth. As I round the corner, I spy a pair of students. I recognize one of them immediately.
It’s Kelsey.
My Kelsey.
It looks like they’re arguing.
My heart jumps and an overwhelming need to protect her charges through me like a raging rhino. Attempting to hide my stirred up emotions, I hurry up to the pair.
“Is there a problem here?” I ask, trying hard not to shoot daggers at the other student with my eyes.
That student, a male I don’t know, answers first. “No, Dr. Conners.”
I look at Kelsey.
Her face is red. Deep red.
Bullshit. Something’s wrong.
I jerk my head. “Come with me, Miss Steele,” I say.
She nods and follows me as I lead her back toward Derby Hall. I wait until we’re inside the building, and far away from the other student, before I speak.
“Is everything all right?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away. I’m thinking my question might have been a little to
o vague. Or she’s trying not to make a big deal out of a small disagreement. Which I appreciate.
“Was that student harassing you?” I ask, wanting to make sure it really was something minor, “Or threatening you?”
“No.” She shakes her head.
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t.
“If you need anything, you can come to me,” I tell her, in case it was something bigger than she’s letting on. I want her to trust me, to feel she can come to me if she needs help. With anything.
“Thank you. I’ll remember that.” She glances at her phone and sighs. “Darn it. I missed dinner. The union shuts down at eight.”
“Are you hungry? I was heading to the café to grab a sandwich,” I lie, jumping at the opportunity to spend more time with her. Being small, our college has limited hours at the union. Which means her only choice now is a café on campus or an off campus restaurant. “You’re welcome to join me.”
She purses her lips. She’s going to refuse. I can tell by the look on her face “Um. I can’t. But thank you.”
Yep, just as I expected.
My mood sinks a little, but I don’t let her see my disappointment. In all reality, being seen in public together is not a good idea. Camlore College has a strict policy forbidding romantic or sexual relationships between professors and their students. You never scene professors and students dining together.
But that doesn’t change the fact that this sweet girl hasn’t eaten dinner. And, having been a poor undergrad student once upon a time, I know how prohibitive the cost of a meal at a restaurant can be. I stuff my hand in my pocket and grab my wallet. “Will you let me give you some money so you can buy something? After all, I feel I am to blame, in part, since I asked you to come to my office during dinnertime.” Not waiting for her to answer, I pull a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet and stuff it into her hand.
She doesn’t latch onto it right away. But when I step away so she can’t hand it back to me, she accepts it. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.” She looks down at the money in her hand. “I’ll pay you back. When I get my first paycheck.”
“No, you won’t.”
A shy smile spreads across her face. Damn, how I love that smile. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
The smile broadens.
That, right there, is payment enough.
“You’re the best.” She pauses for a moment. “I’ll see you Monday in class.”
“Yes. Monday.”
She tosses a wave and scurries away, and I watch, mesmerized by the sway of her hips.
3
Kelsey
“Sooooo…?” Madison strolls into our room and gives me one of her trademark glares. The vintage cat-eye horn-rimmed glasses she’s wearing today make the expression even more intimidating. So does the deep red lipstick staining her lips. “Where were you at dinnertime?”
“Long story,” I tell her before chomping into the turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich I picked up from the café on the way back to the dorm.
She plops on my bed. “I have all night.” She checks her smart watch. “I take that back. I have an hour. I have plans tonight. So get talking.” She waves a hand. “Did you miss dinner because of a certain sexy math professor?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s that mean?” In typical Madi fashion, Madi tosses an arm and sighs hard. “Girl, you are killing me. Just spit it out. What happened?”
“Nothing happened. With Dr. Conners. What did you expect? I went to his office and filled out some tax paperwork. Then I left. End of story.”
Madi cocks a brow. “Well that shouldn’t have taken so long. Why did you miss dinner?”
“On my way to the union, Kade intercepted me again.”
“Ohhhh.”
“Yeah. He was a pain in the butt. As usual. Asking me why I was late. Where I was.”
Madi’s jaw tics. “It’s none of his business.”
“I know.” I sigh. I’m so tired of Kade. I don’t know what to do about him. I’ve tried to avoid him. But that hasn’t worked. Turns out Camlore College’s campus isn’t big enough to avoid someone, no matter how hard you try. “We broke up months ago,” I say. “I tried to be his friend. But that’s making things worse. So today I told him we can’t be friends anymore. I don’t want to be a jerk, but I wish he’d leave me alone.”
“Well, if he keeps it up, that’s called stalking.” Madi wags a finger at me. “You should report him to campus security.”
“I don’t want to do that. He could be kicked out of school.”
She stands and gives me one of those looks before strolling over to her closet. “You’re too nice. Stalking is a crime.”
“Yes, I realize that. But I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’ve told him we’re not friends anymore.” I sigh a second time. “I hope that works.”
“Well, you know what I say about situations you can’t change…?” Madi raises her brows and grins.
“Drink beer and forget about them?” I answer.
Madi beams. “Exactly.”
“That isn’t the most responsible way to handle your problems. And you know how I feel about drinking—”
“Yes, I know.” Madi pulls out a dress and holds in in front of herself. “But it’s fun. And it’s Friday night. And I know about a party—”
I cut her off. “No. I’m not in the mood.”
“Come on, Kels!” She flings the dress onto her bed. “It’s Friday night! The first weekend of the school year. The first party of the school year. Everyone will be there!”
Unimpressed, I tell her, “I have homework. And other stuff to do.”
“So do I. You’ve got time.” She checks her smart watch again. “Tell you what, I’ll give you a couple of hours. Then you’re coming with me. I need a party buddy.” She skips over to me, flops her arm over my shoulders, and gives me a big-eyed sad look. I know what’s coming: a Madison first-class guilt trip.
They always work on me. Guilt. It’s a Catholic thing, so I’ve been told.
“You wouldn’t want me going to the party alone, would you?” Madi asks.
“No, but—“
“We’ll go for just a little while. An hour,” she offers.
I give her mean eyes.
Madi has never kept her word when she has promised a set time. Ever. One hour? It’ll end up being three. Or four. Or all night.
“Okay. We’ll leave when you say it’s time to go.” Madi drops onto her knees. In her dress. “Please, please, please! Go to the party with me! It’ll be fun.”
I smack my hands over my face. I know my bestie. She is not going to stop pleading and guilt-tripping me until I cave. She does this all the time.
Granted, more than half the time I give in and end up having fun.
“Fine. We’ll go for a little while.” This time I shake my finger at her. “But when I say it’s time to leave, we leave.”
“Yes!” Madi jumps to her feet, grabs my hands and drags me toward the bathroom. “I want to do your hair. Let me do your hair.”
“But I thought we were doing homework first,” I object as we stumble into our tiny bathroom. I scowl at my reflection in the mirror.
“Don’t you want to look good for the party? You never know who will be there.” Madi is the absolute best friend any girl could ever have. Is she perfect? No. Then again, neither am I. Unlike me, Madi loves to party. And she insists, always, that I tag along with her. Even though I’m underage and am paranoid about getting caught drinking. But because I don’t drink much at these things, I’m a good watchdog.
However our friendship isn’t all one-sided. I can’t count the times Madi has pulled me out of a scrape. Whenever I’m short of cash, which has happened way more often than I would have liked, she’s right there, ready to give me the money I need. And she never, ever, expects me to pay it back.
“Fine.” Knowing what I’m in for (at least two hours of curling/buffing/tweezing/ma
keup-ing, I flip down toilet lid, take a seat, and let Madi get to work, making me hot. She’s a math major like me, but if she could go to school for anything, it wouldn’t be math. It would be fashion. Or hair and makeup. The girl loves designing clothes. What she doesn’t sew, she buys in vintage shops. And she loves doing hair and makeup almost as much as making clothes. Of course, I’m her regular guinea pig.
Tonight, her efforts pay off. Big time.
I’m not that girl, the kind who stares at herself in the mirror all the time, and proclaims how hot she is. But in this case, I can’t help it.
Two hours after Madi started, it’s not really me that I see.
What do I see? I see the perfect curls. I see the smooth, flawless skin. I see the expertly sculpted cheekbones and cool cat eye liner emphasizing my eyes.
The real me is hidden under all that perfection.
But I’m okay with that. For tonight.
Once she’s done fixing me up, we dig through her closet for some clothes. A wanna-be fashion designer and daughter of two successful lawyers, Madi’s closet is chock full of gorgeous custom made dresses and vintage designer pieces. Lucky me, we’re the same size.
She holds a cute black dress up against me. “Hmmm. I think this’ll work. Let me see what else I have…” She dives back in to find option number two, another short dress, this one navy blue. “Let me see them on.” While I wiggle myself into Option One, she grabs the dress she’d tossed on her bed and tugs it on. Then she pulls her hair out of the bun she’d had it twisted into and gives her head a shake. And just like that, gone is the vintage nineteen fifties girl. Now Madi is a modern day hottie, with a splash of rock and roll. Sharp eyes focused on me, Rock Star Madi twirls her finger. “Turn.”
I turn.
“That one makes your butt look great. I don’t think I need to see the other one.” She knees down and peruses her shoe rack. “Here.” She hands me a pair of adorable silver sandals with just enough heel to make my legs look less stumpy, but not too high to walk.
We strap on our shoes and head out. As we stomp down the hallway like a pair of runway models, we collect our share of whistles from the guys on our floor. I have to admit, I feel good. Really good.