by Claire Adams
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry if it seems like I’m not having a good time. I am. This is really nice, actually.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it, but it seems like something’s been bothering you all night,” I said. “What’s up? Is this too much? Does it feel like too much of…I don’t know, like a relationship?” It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe she would want to just keep things physical. It hadn’t occurred to me that maybe she didn’t even like me, maybe hanging out with me was excruciating. It didn’t seem that way, but I could tell there was something on her mind. “If you’d rather just keep things strictly physical, that’s fine,” I said, though I found myself hoping she’d say she didn’t want to do that.
“It’s not that,” she said. “That has nothing to do with it, actually. I really like getting to spend time with you—please don’t think that I’m not enjoying this.”
I smiled. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“I’m having a good time. I promise you, it’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
She hesitated, and in that silence I tried to figure out what it was she was going to say. She was really a lesbian? She had an STD? She had a boyfriend? As it turned out, none of that. “I got this letter,” she said. “And at first I thought it was from you. You know how you had slipped that note into my paper that one day? I thought it was like that, except you’d sent it to my apartment this time.”
“No, it wasn’t me. Who was it from?”
“I don’t know. There was no signature.”
“Well, what did they want?”
“They wanted me to write a paper. They gave me the topic and everything.”
I didn’t say anything right away; I was waiting for the grin to break out on her face and her to tell me she was joking. But that didn’t happen; she just continued to push the pasta around on her plate. “Wait—what? You got a random anonymous letter from someone who wanted you to write a paper?”
“Yes. And I’m going to do it. There was an email address to send it to. They gave me a week.”
“Why would you do that? I would’ve told them to go fuck themselves. Just because you get some random letter in the mail from someone who—”
“The letter wasn’t so random. They sent it because they knew what was going on between us. And they said that the only way to ensure it didn’t get out was if I wrote the paper.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shook her head. “I wish I was.”
I didn’t say anything for a second, letting what she’d just said fully sink in. So someone did know about this, after all. And they were now trying to blackmail Tessa by having her write their papers?
“Fuck that,” I said. “No fucking way you’re going to write that paper. Just because someone’s threatening you. No way.”
“I knew you were going to say that. Which is why I didn’t want to tell you about this, but Lindsey told me I should.”
“Lindsey.” I nodded. “So you’ve told Lindsey what’s been going on.”
“Of course I did! She’s my best friend. But she’s the only one that I’ve said anything to.” Tessa frowned. “Don’t try to blame this on me! Who have you told?”
“No one,” I said. “Well, okay. I told my friend. And my brother. But I know for an absolute fucking fact that neither of them said anything.”
“I don’t know then,” Tessa said. “I don’t know who might have found out—maybe someone saw us together.”
“I don’t see why anyone would give a shit about that. People should mind their own business.”
“I know, but that’s the only thing I can think of. And I’m going to write the paper because there’s no way I can let word of this get out, okay? I just can’t. I don’t think that you want to let it get out, either.”
“But you were planning on not telling me?”
“I was considering it.”
“I’m glad you did. Tell me if you get any more of these letters, though. Write them this one paper if you feel you must, but don’t write any more papers. You’re just playing into their hand.”
Her eyes widened. “I sure as hell am going to write another paper if that’s what they want.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Because if word gets out about this, we could both be kicked out of the school. If I get expelled, I’m even more screwed than I was before. And you don’t want people to find out about us, do you?”
“I mean, it’s not my first choice, but fuck that, Tessa, that’s total bullshit if someone is essentially trying to blackmail you. No fucking way.”
“But there’s nothing you can do about it!” she said, and I could hear the anxiety in her voice. She took a deep breath. “What are you going to do about it?” she asked, her voice a little calmer.
What was I going to do about it? Well, fuck. I didn’t know. But this wasn’t one of those situations where you could just go along with what they wanted. That would be letting them win. Hell no.
“We’re going to figure something out,” I said. “I’m not exactly sure what.”
“That’s because I’ve just got to write the paper. And I mean, I guess so far as things go, it’s not the worst thing in the world. I can do it. It’s not like I haven’t written papers before.”
“Okay,” I said, “and then what?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that’ll be it? Maybe they just need this paper, and once they have it, they’ll stop.”
“And are you saying that we should we stop doing this? Pretend the whole thing never even happened?”
“I thought about that, too,” she said. “And there is a part of me that thinks we should just stop. I knew it was wrong to begin with, and I chose to go ahead and do it anyway. And now someone’s found out, which is the last thing we wanted to have happen.” She paused and looked down at her hands.
Great. I tried not to let any emotion overtake my face; if she wanted to end things, I’d agree, even though I really didn’t want to.
“But . . .” She looked up, and there was a tiny smile curling the corners of her mouth. “They already know, whoever it is. Stopping now isn’t going to change that. I assume they must have some sort of proof, otherwise they wouldn’t be so forward about it. And I’ve actually been enjoying this more than I can remember enjoying anything.” She blushed. “I know it started as one thing, but it’s turned into something else; it’s turned into the one good thing I seem to have going for me at the moment, and I really can’t bear the idea of having to put a stop to it right now.”
I felt a smile spread across my face, even though the situation wasn’t that funny. I was pissed as hell that someone was trying to fuck with her like this, but I was relieved to hear her say that she wanted to keep going with it.
“I’m happy to hear you say that,” I said.
15.
Tessa
I knew Leo didn’t want me to write the paper, but I had to. Five pages wasn’t that much, and though I didn’t know a lot about Hurricane Katrina, it was easy enough to research it online and put together something that seemed like it would get a good grade.
I finished the paper late Saturday morning, and after I emailed it to the anonymous address, I decided to go down to my parents’. My father was out when I got there, but my mother was at the dining room table, trying to work on one of her scrapbooks, another of her acquired hobbies that she had been really into for a while.
“I’m determined to finish one of these scrapbooks,” she said, sitting amidst photos and stickers and other paper accoutrements. “This one I’m working on is for you, actually.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said.
“But I want to. Look at all these pictures! If nothing else, it’s a nice trip down memory lane. I had another nice conversation with Marjorie last night, though, and she was telling me about the nice book she’s putting together for Brynn, and she’s going to give it to her when she graduates. I think I might be able to have this
completed by the time you graduate.”
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
“You know what else Marjorie told me? She happened to mentioned that when Brynn was one, Marjorie and Jeff and Brynn’s brother and cousins and aunts and uncles—well, basically the whole extended family, you get the picture—they all wrote down something for Brynn. What they hoped for her, how happy they were that she was part of the family, something like that. No one read what they wrote, though; Marjorie just put it in this time capsule thing and Jeff buried it in their backyard. Under that lovely magnolia tree of theirs. Anyway, they dug it up when Brynn was 16, and she got to read all those lovely thoughts and sentiments that people had written to her back when she was just a baby. Isn’t that such a wonderful thing?”
“Uh, yeah, Mom, that’s great.”
“And it just got me thinking that your father and I had never done anything even close to that for you.”
“Don’t feel bad, Mom. It’s nice and everything, but it’s not like my life is lacking or anything because you didn’t.”
“I just . . . I just can’t help but wonder if your father and I somehow haven’t done enough for you. If that’s why you’ve been having difficulty in school lately. It’s been on my mind so much, Tessa, since you told us.”
“Really?” I said, feeling a pang of guilt. If she ever found out about Leo and me, it would probably completely devastate her. She would take it personally, like she had somehow failed me. “You guys have actually done way more for me than most parents do for their kids. Which I really appreciate, and I want you guys to know that. And not having some time capsule for me to open up is totally fine. We don’t have to do the same exact things that Brynn’s family does.” I was pretty certain, after all, that Brynn wasn’t sleeping with a professor.
“I know, I just feel it’s more symbolic, really,” my mother said. “I’m not saying I think we should be doing the same exact things, but . . . it just got me thinking and wondering if maybe there was something else that we could have been doing.”
I shook my head. “No, Mom,” I said. “Anyway, I didn’t come down here to talk about Brynn and her family traditions.” I sat down at the table next to her. “Why don’t you show me some of these scrapbook pictures you have?”
I sat down next to her, and she handed me a stack of photos that she’d had printed. I flipped through them—this batch seemed to be from my high school days, which now seemed like a distant memory. High school had been easy for me; even though I’d taken a full load of AP courses, it had never been that challenging. I’d had to put forth effort, sure, but it was enjoyable, never stressful. I looked at the pictures of myself, the innocent, optimistic, hopeful look on my face. I didn’t really feel like that same girl now; I certainly wasn’t innocent.
“Look at this one,” my mother said, handing me one from my graduation. “We were so proud of you that day. We’re still so proud of you. I want to get the same shot of the three of us when you graduate from college. And then I’ll put them together, side by side, right here on this page.”
“That’s great, Mom,” I said, handing the picture back to her.
I left later that afternoon, feeling a huge amount of guilt, and knowing that I could never let my parents find out about Leo and me.
It had been over a week since I’d emailed the paper about Hurricane Katrina, and I hadn’t gotten any more correspondence, so I was starting to wonder if it had just been a one-time thing.
I hoped so. I found myself looking at the people I came across at school, trying to figure out who it was that knew what was going on. No one’s faces gave me any clues. I was sitting in the quad, watching people walk by. After a few more minutes, I gathered my stuff and got up. I’d probably never know who sent the letter, but as long as it was over with, I guess I didn’t really care that much.
I walked into the humanities building and heard someone say my name.
“Hey, Tessa.”
It was Nick, sitting with Seth and a couple other guys from the basketball team in the lobby
“Nick. Hi,” I said. The other guys smiled and then went back to their conversation. Nick, however, kept his eyes on me.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he said. “I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you that day in that . . . outfit.” I glanced quickly at Seth and the other guys to see if they were hearing this, but they seemed to be wrapped up in whatever they were talking about, something about the upcoming game they had. “I think you should do your laundry less often if it means you’ll wear more outfits like that.” He gave me that grin of his that could make a girl weak in the knees, that same grin that had made butterflies swirl in my stomach when I first met him. “You want to hang out, later?”
“Oh, um . . .” I paused. “I don’t know. I’ve been pretty busy lately.”
“Aw, we’re all busy. I bet you could find some time for me.”
Funny how just a short time ago those were just the words that I wanted to hear, and that when I tried to ask him if he wanted to hang out, he told me that he didn’t want things to get too serious between us.
Just then I saw Leo walking by, and I think he would have walked right by us, but he looked over at the last second and saw me. Then he saw who I was talking to. It seemed that he was about to continue on, but then he came over.
“Hey, Leo,” Nick said, holding his hands up. “I know you’re coming over here to give me a hard time about that last assignment, but I’ve got it in my backpack, and I’m going to hand it in today!”
Leo didn’t look at me, but stood about half a foot away. “You must be psychic, Nick,” he said. “Because that’s exactly why I was coming over here. And I’m so pleased to hear you’ve got the assignment.”
I watched him out of the corner of my eye, but he refused to even glance my direction. But despite the fact that we weren’t touching, it was like I could feel his presence all the same.
“Speaking of assignments,” Leo said, looking at me now, “Tessa, I’d like to see you about that assignment you turned in last week, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“I’ve got a class to get to right now,” I said.
“Okay. Why don’t you stop by my office after that, then.”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“You boys behave yourselves,” Leo said, and then he strode off. I looked back at Nick, and wondered if he was able to sense that anything was going on between Leo and me. He raised an eyebrow.
“So, what do you say? Maybe we can get together this weekend or something?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, and I walked off before he could say anything else, though I could hear the other guys giving him a hard time. It had probably pissed him off, me making that comment, but I didn’t care. He deserved it, as far as I was concerned, and at least now he wouldn’t keep bothering me.
After my moral philosophy class was over, I walked across campus to Leo’s office. The door was slightly ajar, but I knocked anyway. He appeared a second later and looked both ways down the hallway, making sure it was empty, and then he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the office.
“I thought you said you didn’t want to do anything here,” I said breathlessly as he pushed the door shut. He turned the lock in the doorknob.
“I believe what I said was,” he said, as his hands roamed my body, “that having Carla walk in on us was not okay. She’s out today, and there’s a lock on the door, and I can’t go another second without being able to touch you.”
“I thought . . . I thought you wanted to talk about some assignment, too—”
“What assignment?” he said, and I realized that he was right; he hadn’t assigned us anything except for the articles we were supposed to be working on for the paper.
We went over to the desk and he moved his laptop and then lay me down on top of the papers and folders. He pulled my shoes off, then my leggings and underwear, and then he pushed my thighs apart and buried his face between m
y legs, and instantly my whole body was buzzing.
I knew the door was locked, but I didn’t know how soundproof these walls were, so I tried to keep quiet, which was increasingly difficult. It seemed he knew every spot to touch, just how much pressure to apply, and when to back off. He massaged my clit with his tongue, sliding one finger, then another, into me, and swirling them around. I bit down so hard on my lip that I tasted blood, but the pain just seemed to heighten the pleasure. I was vaguely aware that I could hear people walking by outside the office; a class must have just let out. Leo lifted his head and reached up with his other hand that wasn’t inside of me and slid his fingers up my shirt, underneath my bra. I lifted my head and gasped as he squeezed first one breast, then the other, working his fingers in and out of me. People were still walking by; all that was separating us was that wall right there. This fact seemed to excite Leo, too; he was straightening up, pulling his pants down, his cock springing out. I spread my legs even wider, feeling the paper crinkle underneath me as he pushed his cock into me. He held himself up with one hand on the desk, the other squeezing my nipples. Each time he pushed into me, he squeezed harder, accentuating the pleasure I felt with each of his thrusts. I had my lips pressed together as tightly as I could, but little whimpers were still leaking out; there was nothing I could do to stop them.
Leo was having a hard time keeping quiet, too. The muscles in his neck strained, his face was twisted into a grimace, and he was taking such deep breaths that the exhales turned into growls. I gripped the edge of the desk as he fucked me harder, my tailbone pressing into the hard surface. My brain felt as though it were about to short circuit, and I arched my back and pressed right up against him. I must have been making louder sounds than I thought because Leo pressed his hand over my mouth as we both came, which muffled the sounds coming out of my mouth, but didn’t stop them. As the feeling peaked, I bit into his palm, enough to make him wince but not enough to make him pull his hand back. The papers slid under me as he slowly eased himself out.
“Is Nick giving you a hard time?” Leo asked as we pulled our pants back on.