Art of Love (Valley Boys Book 1)

by Vicki Tharp

  Niko: The more he gets to know you, the more he’ll have to think twice about walking away. You’re a good man, Dem. You deserve to find love.

  Demetri’s throat tightened as he pocketed the phone, glad that he didn’t have to face Niko in person right then. The ‘idiot’ was a lot easier to take than the affirmation.

  Compliments had never been Niko’s strong suit.

  Until he’d found Vin.

  Now Niko thought he was the expert on everyone else’s love life and relationships.

  Demetri: Maybe I should break it off.

  His cell rang, and he almost didn’t pick up when Niko’s name flashed across the screen. “What?”

  “What I have to say is too long to type,” Niko said. “Get your head out of your ass. Are you going to break off something good before it gets started because you’re afraid of rejection?”

  “I—”

  “That’s asinine. You break it off, you lose him. You tell him—and when I say you tell him I’m saying you tell him way the fuck later—then you have a chance it could all work out. Don’t let your fear of rejection make you sabotage your relationship.”

  What Demetri had to say would hurt to admit out loud. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I am. Look, I have to go. Hang in there and call your mother, she missed you last night.”

  He should have texted his mother instead of Niko when he’d canceled, but he hadn’t wanted to fend off his mother’s probing questions. “Yeah. Thanks, I will.”

  Demetri’s front door opened and closed, and a heavy toolbox thunked down on the tiles in the entryway. He’d given Joss a key at the start of the renovation. Demetri knew that Joss’s ability to work depended on the schedule of his skydiving business and that he’d be coming and going at unorthodox times.

  Luckily for Demetri and his bathroom, the winds still blew too strong and consistent for Joss to take any clients up.

  Demetri showered and dressed. He might as well head to his office early and get a few things done before classes started.

  He peeked in on Joss, already at work in the bathroom, stripping the old broken tiles off the wall and preparing to go down to the studs. Joss would probably have to saw the old tub in half to get it through the door.

  “Making progress,” Demetri said.

  Joss was standing in the tub, the pry bar stilled in his hand when he glanced over his shoulder. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “Right,” Joss said as he went back to work. Some of the old tiles popped off with minimal effort. Others required a little more persuasion. “The last time I saw someone looking that rough was at a bachelor party in Vegas.”

  “I had one beer and no sleep.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “You can always ask.” Though the way he said it, Joss might not answer.

  But Demetri needed another perspective, someone who might help him get his head on straight.

  “When you date, do you tell people you’re a widower upfront, or do you let men get to know you a bit first?”

  Joss tossed his pry bar in a five-gallon bucket and gave Demetri his full attention. “It’s a fine line. You disclose too early, and they think you’re still hung up on them. You disclose too late, and they get butt-hurt that you didn’t tell them something so important from the start. Honestly, I can’t win.” Joss smiled, but it looked bittersweet. “That help?”

  Demetri shook his head. “Not a bit.”

  “Bottom line, Dan’s death is something I’m going to have to live with and deal with for the rest of my life. I’ve learned some people can’t handle the truth. But what they don’t understand is that life is complicated and messy and ugly and a beautiful gift all at the same time. All anyone is trying to do is make it to the next day the best way they know how. In my book, that’s all anyone can ask of you.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  Joss huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well, Vin taught me that. He also taught me I could love again. But I’m not looking.”

  Demetri and Joss said their goodbyes, and Demetri headed off to the college, still unsure of what he planned on doing about Roman. But after the talk with Joss, the possibilities didn’t seem so dark.

  There had to be a path he could navigate their budding relationship through if he searched hard enough.

  As he climbed into his car, the wind nearly stole his door out of his hand. But the sun shined bright like it always did in the valley, giving him hope.

  While he drove, his phone vibrated with an incoming email. He waited until he parked on campus and pulled his leather briefcase out of the backseat before checking it.

  His stomach plummeted.

  A department-wide email from Michael Pittman, the head of the art department, concerning a mandatory meeting that afternoon to address rumors of a student-teacher affair.

  In the teacher’s lounge down the hall from his office, Demetri poured himself a cup of much-needed coffee. His hand holding the pot shook, and he had to set his cup on the counter to keep from splashing hot coffee on his fingers.

  Taking his mug back to the office, he locked the door behind him. He opened his blinds, but the far-off, hazy view over to the San Gabriel mountains didn’t fill him with the same sense of peace that it normally did.

  Come five o’clock that afternoon, that space may no longer be his office.

  He took a sip of his coffee, forgetting to blow on it. It scalded a trail down to his stomach where the crosscurrents of bubbling acid sloshed it around until it nearly came back up.

  Maybe he should get in front of the problem. He could go by Dean Pittman’s office early. He didn’t want to wait until the end of the day and sit through the revelation and humiliation in front of his colleagues. Besides, who wanted to wait around for the death knell?

  A thump came from the office next door. Had Lydia gone to the dean and told him what Demetri had confided about Roman?

  Demetri hadn’t said anything to anyone else besides Niko, and he’d have no reason to tell anyone, much less his dean.

  And the email had come way too early for him to suspect that Roman’s roommate had somehow made a report. Chances were the kid was still sleeping it off.

  Stepping into the hall, he worked his head from side to side, easing the tension in his neck before knocking on Lydia’s door.

  “Come in.”

  Play it cool.

  He stuck his head in as if he were on his way somewhere else and had only popped in to ask a quick question. “I thought you started your sabbatical already?”

  “I forgot a few things.” She glanced up from the desk drawer she was scrounging through. “Don’t stand out in the hall, come on in.”

  “I’ve got a thing. I can’t stay,” Demetri said cryptically. “I just wondered if you knew anything about the meeting Pittman called this afternoon?”

  “What meeting?”

  “I don’t know. Something about a teacher-student affair. He sent it out this morning.” He tried for a carefree, casual tone, but the tension in his voice made it come out weird.

  Lydia stopped what she was doing and closed the drawer. “Demetri, what you told me, I’ve held in the strictest confidence. If this meeting has to do with you, it didn’t come from me.”

  That hadn’t been what he’d asked, but it had been what he needed to hear. He felt relieved and more nervous at the same time. If Lydia hadn’t said anything, then who had?

  His gaze fell to the floor, and when he glanced back up, Lydia stood in front of him. “If you need an ear, I—”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll try to find Pittman.”

  “Good luck,” she said, with one of those sympathetic faces that somehow also said, you’re going to need it.

  Demetri’s heart rate and blood pressure ramped up. His pulse pounded at his temples while his stomach sank so low he almost tr
ipped over it on the way to the dean’s office.

  Claudia, Pittman’s secretary, since way before the Mesozoic era, sat behind her desk. She was slight and silver-haired, but you didn’t want to let her diminutive size and grandmotherly look fool you. She was an old battle-ax. And from some of the rumors going around, may have personally responsible for the dinosaurs’ demise.

  “You’re looking nice this morning, Claudia—”

  “If you’ve come here to see Dean Pittman, you’re wasting your time. He’s booked solid with meetings all day.”

  “But if I could have a quick word, it won’t take more than a minute or two.” If that. How long would it take Pittman to tell him he’s fired?

  She stared over the rims of her readers perched on the end of her nose. “I can put you down for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’m afraid that will be too late.”

  “Then I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” She didn’t look sorry. She looked apathetic.

  He didn’t dare storm the dean’s door the way they do in all the movies. She had to hide that battle-ax somewhere. She probably had it strapped to her back to keep it within easy reach.

  Then Pittman strode through his inner office door, buttoning his suit coat. Claudia cut Demetri a don’t you dare look, but Demetri took advantage of his one chance.

  “Dean Pittman, if I could have a minute.”

  A good head taller than Demetri, Pittman was the tallest man with a Napoleon complex that Demetri had ever known.

  “I don’t have time. Claudia can put you on the schedule.” Pittman kept walking past Demetri, headed for the hall. He stopped short when Demetri fell into step beside him.

  “I wanted to talk to you about the meeting this afternoon.”

  Pittman looked him up and down. The disapproval sat on his face as permanent as a birthmark. It was no secret Pittman didn’t like Demetri, and he couldn’t tell if those rheumy eyes held more contempt than usual.

  Demetri wasn’t quick to blame Pittman’s animus on homophobia because there were others in the department who Pittman had developed a profound dislike for as well, and they were straight.

  And the only reason he could think that Pittman didn’t ream him out right there in the hall for his indiscretion was that Pittman preferred to humiliate people when he had an audience.

  “If I’d wanted to talk to everyone individually, I wouldn’t have called a meeting. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  Pittman didn’t wait for Demetri’s response before walking away, leaving Demetri to stew in his turmoil.

  Roman walked into his art class, laughing and joking with Emily. Being new in town, he appreciated meeting a new friend who seemed to get him and have the same sense of humor and dirty mind. They’d had similar backgrounds with conservative families, and they’d both enjoyed exploring their newfound sex lives now that they lived on their own.

  Scoping out guys together made it that much more fun.

  “I’m telling you,” Emily said as she took her seat next to him, “this guy had the most magnificent di—” Emily caught Demetri’s stormy expression. “Whoa, professor, you look...”

  She let the sentence trail off as Demetri’s scowl deepened. She leaned into Roman and grumbled low enough that only he could hear. “I think teacher needs a nice blowy to put a smile on his beautiful face.”

  She glanced at Demetri. His back was turned to them as he put something on the whiteboard. “I mean, I’d do it, but I don’t think it’s me he wants.”

  Roman elbowed her to shut her up. They still had five minutes before class started, and only about a third of the students had made it in so far, but he knew how private Demetri was, and he didn’t want to take a chance anyone would overhear even if Emily were just joking around.

  She narrowed her eyes at Roman, the WTF unspoken. She couldn’t know what had happened between him and Demetri, but she’d been at the community lot. She had eyes. And she hadn’t been slow to connect the dots.

  A couple of his classmates came in, two girls chatting animatedly about something. He didn’t pay much attention. He was too focused on getting his notebook out of his backpack while trying not looking like he was staring at Demetri’s biteable ass.

  “...all I’m saying,” one of the girls said, Cheryl, he thought her name was, “is if you’re going to fuck your professor, you should—”

  Demetri spun around, and Cheryl didn’t finish her sentence. When Demetri turned away again, Cheryl poked Roman and mouthed, “What’s with him?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Roman whispered. What the hell was going on? Had someone found out about him and Demetri? “What are you guys talking about?”

  Rita, the girl Cheryl had been talking to, piped in, “A professor’s getting fired.” She rolled her eyes. Roman’s mother would have knocked that eye roll out of him if he’d done that to her. “Couldn’t keep it in his pants.”

  Even though Roman hadn’t had time for lunch before class, his stomach still soured. He didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Who?”

  Rita shrugged her shoulders.

  Cheryl said, “I don’t know. All I heard was there was some sort of department meeting after classes this afternoon.”

  The students finished filing in, and Demetri started his lecture at the front of the class, giving some sort of instructions for their next project. Roman didn’t hear a word.

  Had he gotten Demetri fired?

  Demetri must have finished because he walked to the back of the class, leaving the live model on the dais. The rest of the students weaved around Roman on the way to their art lockers to get whatever they were supposed to get.

  He sat there in his seat, feeling Demetri’s eyes on his back. Should he turn and look, or would that make it worse?

  Emily sat back down beside him, placing a new twelve-by-twelve canvas on her easel. “Aren’t you going to get your stuff?”

  “What? Uh... yeah. I was waiting for the crowd to die down.”

  He took quick stock of the supplies his classmates had gathered and went to get his own. On his way back to his chair, he chanced a look at the back of the room, but as soon as his eyes met Demetri’s, Demetri looked away.

  Shit. Did Demetri blame Roman?

  He started to walk toward Demetri, but Demetri’s head popped up, and he gave Roman the most imperceptible shake of his head. Roman detoured to his art locker.

  He doesn’t want to talk to you. This is your fault. You shouldn’t have invited him over for dinner. You should have taken his concerns to heart.

  Roman dropped down in his seat and tossed the rest of his supplies at his feet. He wrapped his head in his hands and took a couple of deep breaths trying to swallow down the excess saliva pooling in his mouth before his nausea got worse, and he had to make a mad dash for the men’s room.

  Emily leaned in, her hand on his back and whispered, “What’s wrong with you?”

  He snuck a glance at the back of the room. Demetri didn’t notice, his attention on his computer screen.

  “What?” Emily followed Roman’s gaze. Her eyes going wide as she mouthed, “You and...” She jerked her head toward the back of the class.

  He didn’t have to confirm her suspicion. He assumed his guilt was an easy read. Demetri had said he could get fired, but the stupid part of Roman, the horny part of Roman, hadn’t taken the concern overly seriously. He knew that professors had affairs and got caught, but that was those people. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Demetri.

  Only now, it probably was.

  Class ended, and everyone put their supplies away. Roman remained in his seat, his canvas untouched, his paints unopened.

  Emily shouldered her backpack. “You coming?”

  “No. I—” Fuck, he didn’t know what he was going to do. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, yeah?”

  “Sure. It’s my turn to bring the coffee.”

  He nodded, though at this point, who brought coffee was his least concern.

  “Mr. Ree
d,” Demetri called from the back of the room after the model and the last student had left, the words cold, formal, dismissive. “I believe class is over.”

  Roman snagged his backpack off the floor. The backpack with the grocery store bag stuffed with Demetri’s clean clothes from the night before. Maybe if Roman told the dean he’d been the one to pressure Demetri into seeing him, he wouldn’t lose his job.

  Roman stopped in front of Demetri’s desk, his finger tapping on the top. “Will you look at me?”

  “I’m a little busy.” Demetri refused to glance up from his screen as he typed away. “You can set up office hours online if you need to talk—”

  “Fuck that.”

  Demetri didn’t owe Roman much, but he owed him the decency of looking at him. Roman unzipped his backpack and dropped the baggie of clothes on Demetri’s desk. “You left these last night.”

  Demetri glanced around the classroom, his eyes furtive as if Roman had thrown a kilo of cocaine on his desk and not a bag of clothes. He snatched them off his desk and tossed the bag into his bottom drawer, kicking it closed with his foot.

  “We’ll find a way to fix this,” Roman said.

  Demetri huffed out a rueful laugh. “There’s no fixing something like this.”

  “I’m an adult. What we did was consensual. I’m not some snot-nosed kid fresh out of high school with stars in their eyes. You didn’t take advantage of me. I don’t understand how this is a problem.”

  “The college has rules. I was stupid enough to lose sight of that.” Demetri laid his hands on his keyboard again, his eyes returning to his screen. The only outward sign that he wasn’t as cool and composed as he looked was the muscle jumping at the corner of his jaw and the deep furrow between his brows.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

  11

  Demetri didn’t accept Roman’s apology. Instead, he sat there at a loss for words.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be? Radio silence?” The anger seeped into Roman’s expression.

  It was better this way. If Roman were angry, then he’d stay away. “I think you should go.”