by Bella Grant
They’re good, I think, Frankie wrote back, adding a smiley face. He’s so sweet when we’re alone. I think there’s something there. We almost kissed.
What? Amelia typed. Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me?
It just sort of happened yesterday, Frankie replied. And you were kind of a hot mess, tbh. No offense.
None taken, Amelia replied. Guilty as charged. So what happened??
Instead of texting, Frankie called Amelia. “Hey,” she answered.
“Hey,” Frankie replied. “So this is what happened. We were studying after class, and we were messing around, and all of a sudden, there was this moment. And he sort of got close, and I swear to God, I thought he was going to kiss me. I sort of froze because I didn’t want to push him into it, and I think maybe he wanted me to go for it, but I couldn’t, because it had to be on his terms. Anyway, he sort of played it off, and I went home. And I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Damn.”
“Yup,” Frankie replied. “Damn.”
After chatting for a few minutes, Frankie had to go. Amelia tossed her phone on the couch beside her and made a cup of hot cocoa. She flipped through Netflix until she found a Jane Austen movie and pulled the comforter around her, ready to drown her anxieties in chocolate and an Edwardian romance.
8
Theodore walked around his apartment in a daze, swearing as he tripped over empty boxes. He was distracted, unable to concentrate on anything, and he felt completely and totally useless. He had spent all of Friday night and most of Saturday morning holding his phone, waiting for it to ring, and checking it compulsively to make sure the ringer was on and he wasn’t missing calls.
His phone never rang. Instead, he ate a bowl of boxed mac and cheese for breakfast on Saturday morning and tried to watch C-SPAN, which was an exercise in futility because even on a good day, he found it nearly impossible to watch. He wasn’t sure why he turned it on, resigning himself to the fact that he really had no idea what he was doing right now. After spending a few hours trying to grade papers and compile notes for his class lessons, he gave up, slammed the book on the coffee table and put on his coat.
Theodore wandered around campus. He initially set out for Amelia’s apartment again without even realizing it, but his brain hit the brakes on that one. Even in his confused, distracted state, he had to admit it was totally inappropriate to be essentially stalking his student.
Instead, he turned towards downtown, determined to be around people and keep his mind off the fact that he had made out with his student. He was also hoping to think of something other than the fact that it was perhaps the single hottest kiss of his life and that he was afraid he had fucked everything up with her.
Theodore’s stomach let out a loud grumble, and it was his only indication he was hungry. He felt like his brain was floating outside his body. He wasn’t interested in food, but he didn’t know what else to do with himself, so after walking listlessly up and down Main Street without any real purpose, he decided to stop in a little sandwich shop to kill some time.
As he stood in line at the counter, he glanced around for an empty table. The place was packed, and he wasn’t sure if it that was good or bad in his current state. Ordinarily, he’d prefer to be alone in a quiet, mostly empty restaurant. Today, however, it might be good to squeeze into a little table between a pack of noisy kids and have the thoughts chased out of his head by their incessant, ridiculous stories about how much they drank at the party and which guy so-and-so was fucking.
While he considered this, debating the merits of staying or going, his eyes gravitated towards the corner to the dark-haired girl laughing. Amelia. Amelia was there. Theodore’s heart skipped a beat and felt as if it lodged itself in his throat. His hands began to tingle and a nervous energy coursed through him. He ran a hand through his hair as if by reflex, wondering if she’d seen him.
Amelia sat in the dark corner of the café with a guy. His back was turned to the counter, and Theodore couldn’t tell who he was. As he watched them, the boy reached out and touched Amelia’s face. Theodore felt a weird sort of panic at the gesture, this intimate moment between Amelia and an unknown guy. He was surprised by the feeling, taken aback by the intensity of his reaction to what could only be perceived as a threat.
Theodore watched her, his mouth slightly agape. He could feel the muscles in his forehead contracting into what was surely a look of distress. After brushing her face with his hand, the guy laced his fingers through hers and their hands rested on the table in plain view. Were they together? The thought made him feel sick. If so, what the fuck had happened in his office?
Amelia didn’t seem like a girl who would cheat. Was this her boyfriend? She had implied she didn’t have one. And then there was Theodore. She’d kissed him. But that didn’t mean they were together. Theodore was shocked by his own reaction and that his natural instinct was to feel betrayed, as if he and Amelia were already a couple.
Amelia sensed she was being watched. Her face flickered with a kind of self-conscious discomfort and she looked up, as if searching for the source. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on Theodore. His eyes were questioning beneath his furrowed brow, and he knew how he must look—hurt and confused. The question on his face lingered in the space between them.
As if in response, Amelia pulled her hands away quickly. Her mouth opened slightly as if to say something, but there was nothing to say and no one to say it to. Theodore had seen enough. He turned and left while she watched him. She had looked visibly upset—the same way he felt—but what had he walked in on? Was she on a date? Was this an ex? A current flame? Was it nothing?
Theodore pushed out of the café and onto the street, bumping into a girl coming out of the bookstore next door. He apologized as he helped her pick up her scattered textbooks. I must seem frantic to her, he thought. He needed to get away, to get out and be alone. He wanted to run, but he realized how weird that would look. Instead, he cut through campus and headed to the college woods where he could be alone to walk off the confusion and hurt that twisted inside him.
As he made his way along the ragged footpaths deep in the woods, heading towards his favorite spot along the river, he tried to rationalize. He was her professor. She was his student. She was beautiful and smart. She had a quirky sense of humor that came through in her papers. She was, by all definitions, a catch. It was stupid of him to think that he’d be the only person interested in her. And what could he offer her, really? His wisdom? Some mentoring element as her senior, guiding her through life?
She didn’t need that, and Theodore chastised himself for the thought. She was doing just fine on her own. The more he got to know her, the more he realized that was true. Amelia was better than him in just about every way. She was a real adult in ways he only pretended to be. From what he knew about her, she had been on her own her whole life. Theodore, on the other hand, had moved from his parents’ house to college and back again before getting his PhD and teaching. He felt like a boy in a man’s body, and imagining he was somehow more mature and worldly than Amelia was fucking ridiculous.
As he considered this, staring at the gray water and brown leaves piled up on the riverbanks, he wanted desperately to see her. He wanted to talk to her and tell her how he felt. He thought of her as his peer, his equal, not as a student. And if that was the case, what was wrong with them being together? Nothing. Just artificial boundaries imposed by some stupid, old curmudgeons up in their ivory towers who had leaned on their elbow-padded tweed far too long.
Theodore picked up a rock and threw it as far as he could downriver. All he wanted was her. And the more he tried to tell himself he should be with her, the more convinced he became that he really was invested. This was more than a fling. It was more than a crush. She was the first person in a long time to get under his skin. She made him feel things he didn’t think he’d ever feel. He needed to see her.
Theodore was on autopilot as he walked to her apartment. He l
eft the woods and cut through the faculty neighborhood, trying not to run but desperate to get there. He tried to figure out what he was going to say when he was with her, but the words gummed together in his brain and no coherent thoughts came out. I’ll figure it out when I see her, he soothed himself. He’d go on instinct. His instinct was that he wanted her, and it was enough for now.
When he arrived at her doorstep, the windows were dark. He didn’t know where she was, and he didn’t have her number. Her keys were in his pocket. He imagined what it would be like to have a key to her place and be free to use it, to go inside and wait for her, to be wanted by her. This thought excited him, and he traced the cold metal of the keys in his pocket as he sat on the steps, waiting.
It felt like an hour before she arrived. The sun had gone down, and the light was fading into an ethereal, diffused twilight as he watched her walk up the street, so light and delicate, unaware of his presence. When she turned the corner to her steps, he stood up.
“Amelia,” he said softly.
9
When Amelia saw Theodore standing on the landing outside her apartment, she froze. Her eyes fixed on him, and her mind filled with questions.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice catching.
“I needed to see you,” he said hesitantly. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Sure,” she stammered and fell silent. She stood at the foot of the stairs, watching him, and wondered if she should go up or if he would come down.
“I have your keys,” he offered with a hopeful look.
Amelia looked around to make sure they were alone. The street was empty, and the apartments around her were dark. As she climbed the steps to her door quickly, brushing by Theodore, she caught the warm, leathery smell of his cologne as she passed. “Come in,” she said, ushering him inside out of the cold.
Her eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the apartment after a moment. She turned on lamps and plugged in a string of white lights. She lit a candle that smelled like grapefruit and watched Theodore as he looked around, taking it all in—the art on the walls and bookcases filled with texts, the vinyl collection, and the turntable in the corner. She pulled the curtains closed and turned to him.
“How did you find me?” she asked, surprised by the defensive tone in her voice.
He stared at the floor and ran a hand through his hair. “I looked your information up in the school database,” he admitted quietly without looking at her. She couldn’t quite see his face and wanted to look in his eyes to see what he was feeling. She didn’t say anything.
“Are you upset?” he asked softly.
“No,” she replied truthfully. “But I should be. That’s a total violation of my privacy.” Theodore’s face crumpled. He stared at the kitchen tile. “But I’m not,” she continued. It wasn’t in her nature to punish people, and despite the raw hurt she felt from his rejection, watching him suffering in the kitchen made her feel sick. “I… I’m glad that you’re here.”
Theodore glanced up, meeting her gaze with his. “Really?” he asked, and Amelia detected an awkward shyness she hadn’t seen before.
“Really,” she replied, one side of her mouth curling up in the hint of a smile. “I guess we should talk, huh?”
Theodore cleared his throat. “I guess so.”
Amelia was silent. Theodore didn’t say anything but reached into his pocket and laid her keys on the counter. She was nervous, unsure what to say or what to do. She stared at the keys, trying to formulate words.
“I like you,” Theodore blurted out at the same moment Amelia opened her mouth to say, “Want a drink?”
Theodore’s face reddened. “Love one,” he mumbled.
“What did you say?” Amelia asked, cocking her head to the side as a quizzical expression played across her delicate features.
“I’d love one?” Theodore repeated, deflecting the question.
“No, the other thing,” Amelia clarified.
“Oh,” Theodore said, clearing his throat nervously. “I, um… I like you.”
“You do?” Amelia asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes,” Theodore said, looking at her intently.
Amelia felt her own face grow warm as the blood warmed her cheeks. “I like you, too,” she whispered. She lingered by the counter, one hand holding a wine glass and the other forgotten in the cabinet.
“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you and that guy,” Theodore said, trailing off and looking at her questioningly. “Are you…”
Amelia shook her head and smiled. “We’re just friends,” she clarified. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh.” Theodore nodded, relieved.
“So…” Amelia said uncertainly. She was still holding one wine glass and retrieved the other from the cabinet. “Wine?”
“Yes, please,” he replied.
She poured two glasses and stepped towards him. She handed the glass to him, lingering close to him for a moment, not sure whether to advance or retreat. “Malbec,” she added.
“It’s nice.” Theodore took a sip. “Thank you.” He set the glass on the counter, and Amelia glanced at the floor. She turned, ready to curl back into her personal bubble, leaving a space between them.
Theodore put his hand on her waist. “Amelia,” he whispered.
A warm energy flowed through her and settled between her legs. Her body relaxed into his hand, and she looked up at him. “Professor Bell,” she whispered.
“Theodore,” he corrected her.
“Theodore,” she repeated, looking up at him. She ran her hand up the buttons on his shirt.
Theodore raised his hand and gently, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. He ran his fingers through her soft hair, and Amelia purred a tiny sigh. Theodore tipped her chin up to his and looked at her, unmoving.
“Is this what you want?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Completely.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
Theodore leaned down to kiss her. His lips sought hers, and his body pressed her against the counter. She moaned as she moved into him, her lithe body conforming to his. Theodore wrapped his arms about her waist, and she kissed his neck, moving up to his jawline where the five o’clock shadow scratched against her lips. Theodore let out a rough sigh.
Amelia felt her panties grow wet. She moved against him, one hand gliding down the front of his shirt to his belt buckle. She paused there a moment, her lips moving against his. She bit gently on his bottom lip, and Theodore moaned.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispered.
With one hand still wrapped around his neck, she pressed the other against the bulge in his jeans. He was rock-hard and huge. She rubbed the fabric with her palm as their lips moved frantically against one another.
She let out a little whimper when Theodore wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her onto the counter. She wrapped her legs around his hips and leaned back on the palms of her hands, looking at him. His eyes moved hungrily over her body before returning to her face. He looked at her intently.
“This is really what you want?” he asked. “I… I couldn’t live with myself if I felt like I was pressuring you.”
“Jesus Christ, Theodore,” she whispered, pulling him towards her. “This is what I want. I want you to fuck me senseless,” she moaned. “Don’t make me beg.”
Theodore slid his hand under her dress and pulled her panties aside. She bit her lip and watched him as he moved his fingers against her, sighing with every brush of his fingers. She gasped as he slid them inside her, working his thumb against her in one smooth motion.
She arched her back, lying on the counter, her legs still wrapped around him, open and vulnerable and completely his. With his free hand, Theodore unbuttoned her shirt. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra, running his fingers over her breasts. He traced the peaks of her nipples, leaning forward and grazing one, then the other, with his tongue.
“Holy fuck!” Amelia gasped. It had b
een years since she’d been intimate, since an awkward encounter just after she'd left foster care. She’d been waiting for the right person for so long it felt like she’d never find him. And here he was—Theodore, her professor, standing against her with a raging hard-on, his fingers inside her, his thumb working her clit, and his tongue tracking the points of her nipples. She bit her lip and whispered, “I don’t want to come yet. Not without you.”
Theodore unzipped his pants. He removed his fingers and slid into her with one long, gentle motion. Amelia inhaled sharply as he filled her. She felt as if he had expanded within her, so large he couldn’t possibly fit, but he did. Her muscles tightened around him, and she felt him pulse inside her, an involuntary response.
Theodore reached one hand behind her and lifted her up towards him, his hand supporting her. She leaned into him, hugging him, her mouth on his and her arms around his neck. He held her waist and lifted her, holding her against him. She moved her tongue against his. Still inside her, moving his hips gently against her as she squeezed her legs around his waist, he carried her to the bed.
Amelia’s heart raced as he lifted her off the counter. She’d seen things like this on the internet, but she’d never been with a man like this. Not a strong, passionate man capable of holding her in the air while still inside her warm center. She held him tightly as he carried her, his hands supporting her thighs, her mouth brushing softly against his neck. His movements seemed effortless, though she knew they couldn’t be. When they reached her bedroom, Theodore lay her gently on the bed and pressed himself on top of her.
Amelia looked up at him, her eyes locked on his. He brushed her face with his fingers, moving slowly within her, taking his time. She relished the feel of him and lost herself within his slow, rhythmic movements. She smiled up at him, the happiness she felt unable to be contained, and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he grinned back at her. As if unable to maintain the slow, restrained pace he’d set, Theodore pulled her towards the edge of the bed. As he held her legs against his broad, strong chest, Amelia’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she lost herself in the passion of their bodies.