Forbidden Heat (Firework Girls #1)

by J. L. White

  Everything would be perfect, really, if we didn’t have to keep it all in the dark.

  Halfway through November, the girls come into my room as I’m getting ready to go to Shane’s. Chloe and Ashley sit on my bed, giving me serious looks. Sam leans in the doorway, folding her arms.

  “What?” I ask with a smile, wondering what this is all about.

  “Where are you going?” Chloe asks.

  “Nowhere,” Sam and I say at the same time.

  I glance at her. She’s not smiling. I look at the other two on my bed. “What is this, an intervention?” I ask, still trying to keep things light.

  “We were just wondering if we’re ever going find out the reason why we don’t see you anymore,” Ashley says.

  “Yeah, does this reason have a name?” Chloe asks.

  “And a big cock?” Sam chimes in, though still with a serious expression. She’s clearly ready for an answer from me as well.

  The smile slides off my face as I look from one best friend to the next. There’s no laughing this one off. And I’m tired of hiding from them. I really am. Sometimes I feel like I’m really falling for Shane, and my girls have no idea he even exists in my life. I want to tell them everything, but...

  I look from face to face, fussing with the hem of my shirt.

  “God, Isabella,” Sam says, coming all the way into the room. “Tell us already. What the hell’s going on with you?”

  I close my eyes. “Okay...” I sigh. “There’s a guy.”

  “I knew it,” Sam says, heading for the bed. I move toward the bed too, ready to talk. Chloe and Ashley scoot back so there’s room for all of us to gather on the bed together.

  “Why haven’t you said anything about him?” Ashley asks.

  “Okay, look. I’ll tell you everything, but... you can’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Ugh,” Sam says, “I’m starting to get offended. When do we ever share your secrets?”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just that... this is a big one.”

  “Why?” Sam asks, “What are you, banging a professor or something?”

  I look at her with a shocked expression, stunned that she nailed it. They all look at me while I struggle to find my voice.

  Sam starts to laugh while Ashley and Chloe’s eyebrows raise into their hair.

  “Is that it?” Chloe asks, looking mortified.

  “You can’t tell,” I say.

  “Let me guess,” Sam says gleefully, “the philosophy professor?”

  I hide my face in my hands and Sam starts laughing all over again. “Oh honey, I have a whole new respect for you.”

  I peek at her through my fingers in time to see Chloe shoot her a damning glance. “Pipe down, pipsqueak. Let her talk.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.” Sam pulls her legs into a cross-legged position and rests her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands.

  “It’s Shane,” I confirm. “Professor Brooks, I mean. Yes. Shane.”

  “How long has this been going on?” Chloe asks gently.

  “About seven weeks.” Then the dam breaks and I tell them everything. I don’t get into all the intimate details, but I give them a pretty accurate picture of how everything went down. I even admit to seducing him in Sam’s white bikini.

  Sam nods at this piece of information, clearly impressed.

  When I finish telling them the rest, I nervously wait for their reactions.

  “Well,” Sam says with a big breath. “I’m all for it.”

  “You’re also a hopeless nut case,” Chloe says.

  “Are you kidding? It’s not like he’s fifty or something. And do you even remember what that guy looks like?”

  “Okay,” Chloe says, “but...” she turns to me and says gently, “where is this really going to go?”

  As usual, Chloe hits on the one thing I’ve been trying not to ask myself.

  “Why does it have to go anywhere?” Sam asks. “Why can’t she just have a little fun?”

  Chloe gives me a questioning glance, wanting to know if that is, in fact, all I’m doing.

  I shrug. “It’s only been a couple months. I don’t know that either of us are ready to think about anything other than what it is right now.” I give Sam a guilty sort of smile. “It has been fun.”

  Sam grins.

  That’s all this has to be right now anyway, right? No need to think too far into the future.

  Right?

  “What if you guys get caught?” Chloe presses.

  “We’re being careful,” I say, even though I know we’ve gotten careless a couple times. Our latest make-out session at the school’s pool leaps to mind.

  “Stuff like this has a way of getting out,” Ashley says.

  I’m starting to get irritated. “Not as long as you guys keep your mouth shut.”

  “Well I’m not going to say anything!”

  “Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

  Chloe looks to Ashley helplessly.

  “We’re not judging you,” Ashley says. “We’re just concerned.”

  “I’m not concerned,” Sam says. “I’m jealous as hell.”

  “You do what’s right for you,” Chloe says, more gently now. “We’re here for you and we’re not judging you. We’re really not.”

  I soften. “I know.”

  Chloe gives me a smile. “You do look happier than I’ve ever seen you.”

  I smile. “I can’t get enough of him.”

  “Yeah,” Ashley says, smiling now too. “We’ve noticed.”

  We hear the front door open.

  “Don’t tell Jack,” I say. “Please?”

  “I agree,” Sam says. “We don’t need Jack going all ballistic big brother on the professor’s ass.”

  The only good thing about being home for Thanksgiving break is I now have more time to study for the Biochemistry GRE, which I haven’t been doing as much as I should’ve been. The test is this Saturday too, so I have some serious catching up to do

  The down side is, I’m having severe Shane withdrawals. And we’re texting so much it’s practically as time-consuming as being there with him.

  The first night home, I can’t sleep. It’s nearly midnight when my phone dings.

  Apollo: You up?

  Me: Yes.

  Apollo: Can I call you? I need to hear your voice.

  And that’s how it started, his nightly routine of verbally tucking me in. I truly do fall asleep easier after hearing his voice.

  I take the week to finish up my graduate application and get started on my statement of purpose. On Saturday, before the test, he sends me a good luck text just in time: Go get ‘em Tiger.

  Two and a half grueling hours later, I leave the building not feeling nearly as confident about the test as I wish I did.

  I turn my phone back on and it dings almost immediately.

  Apollo: How’d it go?

  Me: I’m afraid to know.

  Apollo: I’m sure you did great sweetheart.

  I don’t answer for a while.

  Me: What if I didn’t?

  Apollo: This isn’t the only thing they look at. You’re submitting a solid admissions packet.

  Me: I suppose. Ugh. Why haven’t I been studying more? Did I just fuck everything up for myself?

  Apollo: Try not to worry about it. You did the best you could. All you can do now is wait. When will you get your score?

  Me: 3-4 weeks. Breathing.

  Apollo: I wish I could be there for you.

  Me: I wish you could too.

  Apollo: I’ll see you tomorrow night.

  “Can’t come soon enough,” I say aloud.

  Chapter 16

  By the time I’m three weeks out from taking my GRE, I’m wound tighter than a drum. Shane is reassuring and that helps, and my girls have been trying to settle me down as well, but I’ll feel better once I know my results.

  Or maybe worse.

  I’m lying on the floor of our apartment, going over my stateme
nt of purpose one last time with Chloe. She’s good with words, so she’s the go-to editor for all of us. Ashley’s off practicing the piano and won’t be back for a couple more hours, probably. Jack is sitting on the couch working on his laptop and snacking on popcorn. Sam’s feet are in his lap, tucked between his laptop and his stomach, and she’s working on a reading assignment.

  My phone dings.

  Apollo: How’s your statement coming along?

  Me: It would be better if Chloe would just write it for me.

  Chloe looks over at my phone and I tilt it so she can read it better. She smiles. “No.”

  Apollo: Maybe you should bribe her. Isn’t she a chocolate fan?

  Chloe reads this text as well. “Is that really ethical?”

  Me: Chloe thinks you’re being unethical.

  “Tell him he should know better,” she adds.

  “Who?” Jack asks, craning his head as if to read my phone from there.

  “Never mind, nosey,” I say lightly, but I turn my phone over.

  Jack makes a face at me, tosses a few pieces of popcorn in his mouth, and runs a finger up the underside of Sam’s foot.

  She jerks her foot away. “Jack!”

  He smiles and goes back to his laptop. She rolls her eyes, replaces her feet in his lap, and goes back to her reading.

  My phone dings again.

  I go to check it but Chloe puts her hand over mine, stopping me. “Chat with him when we’re done. Brad’s picking me up in five minutes.”

  “We mustn’t be late for Brad,” Sam mumbles. She thinks Brad is too uptight. So do I, for that matter, but Chloe’s happy and that’s what counts, I guess.

  “Chat with who?” Jack asks, grinning down at my phone.

  “A friend,” I say.

  “Uh huh.” Still grinning at Chloe and I, he reaches over and tickles Sam on the stomach.

  She swats his hand away. “Cut it out, you brat,” she says.

  He laughs and closes his laptop, getting up from the couch.

  “Hey!” she says. “Bring back my foot rest.”

  “Class time, Shorty,” he says, extending a hand to her.

  “Uuuuugh!” she says dramatically, but she takes his hand and he drags her up.

  “Okay,” Chloe says, ignoring them and putting down her pen. “Finished. There were just a few little things.”

  My phone dings again, but I take the paper so we can discuss Chloe’s changes and suggestions. We’re about done when we hear Brad’s honk at the curb and Chloe jumps up. “Thanks, Chloe,” I call after her as she waves and darts out the door.

  Sam and Jack aren’t far behind. I pick up my phone and see I have two texts, but only one of them’s from Shane.

  The front door closes and I’m left alone to read them.

  I read the one from Shane, then the one from my dad. It says simply: Call your mother.

  I could’ve called right away. I could have. But my father doesn’t send texts like that, ever, and I have this weird feeling about it. It takes walking halfway across campus before I’m ready to find out what’s going on.

  I’m crossing the quad, heading for Old Main, when I finally call. It rings so long I think it’s going to go to voicemail, but Mom picks up at the last moment.

  “Hi sweetie,” she says cheerfully, almost sounding normal.

  “Hi Mom. Everything okay?”

  “Of course. Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  I already know she’s lying. She’s a rotten liar.

  “Dad told me to call you.”

  The silence on the other end of the line stretches out and I come to a stop. “Mom?”

  “He really shouldn’t have. I don’t see any reason to worry you.”

  “Worry me about what?” My skin is starting to prick.

  “Well... I’ve been having some bleeding.”

  I grip the phone with both hands, trying to steady myself. “Is the cancer back?” I ask.

  It can’t be. She had a full hysterectomy last time. If the cancer’s back, what’s left to cut out of her?

  “Now, we don’t know that,” she says. “It could be something else.”

  “Like what?”

  There’s another pause. I close my eyes and put my hand on my forehead.

  “Well,” Mom says, “they’re doing some tests. It could be just a kidney infection. We’ll just see what they find out, okay? Let’s don’t worry until then.”

  “Right,” I say, as calmly as I can, for her sake. “Of course, Mom. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

  “I don’t want you to worry, sweetheart. You have enough on your plate.”

  “Nothing as important as you. But I won’t worry.” I hope I’m a better liar than she is. “It’ll be okay, Mom.”

  “That’s my girl. Have you heard about your score yet?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  I feel lightheaded. I need to get off the phone.

  “I have class, Mom. Can I call you later?”

  “If you want to. I’ll keep you posted either way though, alright?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, rubbing my forehead again. “I love you, Mom. So much.”

  “I love you, too. Bye honey.”

  The call disconnects and I stand there for a moment, staring at my phone.

  I see a notification for new emails. I open the program automatically, not really thinking about it. I’ve been compulsively checking my emails ever since I took the test three weeks ago. The conversation with my mother is still buzzing in my head when I see the email I’ve been waiting for. My score is ready.

  I know I should probably wait to check it. If it’s bad news, I don’t need that on top of worrying about my mom. But of course I log in to MyGRE and check it anyway.

  I don’t know if it’s bad news or not. My score isn’t exactly horrible, but I don’t know that it’s enough to impress Harvard either. It’s not at all what I was hoping for. Fuck.

  I’m a little early for philosophy class and should just go to the classroom and wait, but between my score and my mom, I’m barely containing my panic. I need Shane. I should just text him, I know that, but instead I find myself knocking hopefully on his office door.

  He opens the door, sees the look on my face, and brings me in, shutting the door behind us.

  Before he even asks I start to tell him about my dad’s text and the feeling I had that it would be bad news. Before I can finish though, there’s a knock.

  I stop and he looks at me with concern, glancing at the door.

  I’m too upset to worry that I’m in here with him. We’re not doing anything and I am his student after all. For all anyone knows, I have a perfectly legitimate reason for being here.

  I gesture to the door impatiently, indicating he should answer it.

  He opens the door to a student, who asks if he can talk to him before class.

  “Actually, right now isn’t a good—”

  Another student comes up, clearly needing to talk to Shane as well.

  Fuck it.

  “Go ahead,” I say, leaving. “I was done anyway.”

  I’m two doors down from his office when fucking Justin Kirby comes around the corner and damn near runs into me. We both halt and he gives me a cold smile.

  “Oh, for god’s sake.” I mutter.

  “Oh, look who it is,” he says cruelly, “the little drunk.”

  Not feeling up for this right now, I glance back toward Shane’s office. The students who needed to talk to him must have gone in the room because the hall is empty.

  Justin Kirby must smell my weakness for he does something he’s never done before. He moves toward me, trying to cage me in.

  “Let me pass,” I say.

  “Who says I’m stopping you?” He edges closer to me.

  “I’ll scream,” I say, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  “Hoping your professor will come to your rescue?”

  I look at him in alarm. Why did he say that? Does he know something? Or maybe he meant j
ust that, my professor. Shane certainly is that, too.

  I push past him and he steps aside, his low laughter trailing after me.

  I go to class and sit at the back, distracted and not really paying attention even once class begins. Shane is going around the room, handing back our papers.

  As per our fucking rules, I don’t even look at him.

  I do look at the grade on my paper though. A 70? What the fucking hell?

  Then I remember. He’s made it clear in class more than once that he docks a letter grade from our assignments each day they’re late, and I was two days late on this. I’d gotten behind, once again, and gave my prime remaining homework time to the classes in my major.

  I shove the paper in my bag, not knowing if I’m more irritated with Shane or myself.

  I text my mom: What kind of tests are they doing?

  Someone hands me a stack of papers. I frown at it. What the hell is this? Then I see the heading at the top.

  Fuck. I forgot we had a quiz today.

  I take the top sheet and pass the stack along.

  I start the quiz but tuck my phone on my lap. I would normally put it away but right now I just don’t care. Let him speak up and take it away from me if he doesn’t like it.

  My phone vibrates and I look at it, keeping it in my lap.

  Mom: An ultrasound and blood tests.

  Me: When?

  I look back to the paper in front of me and read the first question. I literally have no idea what I just read.

  My phone vibrates.

  Mom: I get my blood drawn this morning and go in for the ultra sound next week. I thought you had class.

  Me: When will you get the results?

  I return to the quiz and read the first question again. And again. What in the hell am I reading??

  My phone vibrates.

  Apollo: Are you okay?

  I glance up and see him sitting behind his desk, watching me.

  I look back down. If I look at him now I’ll cry.

  Me: No.

  Apollo: Come to my office after class.

  Mom gives me the date of an appointment with her oncologist; she’ll know what’s what then.

  Stop worrying. She says. I know you’re supposed to be in class.

  I sigh and put my phone back in my bag, determined to at least get something done on my quiz. I manage to pull it together enough to answer the questions, but I have no idea how I did. At this particular moment in time, I don’t give a rat’s ass.