“Don’t forget meatballs!” she hollers from the couch. “And cheese!”
“I won’t!” I shout back with a knowing smile. Ryan’s wife was Italian and from a very large family of amazing cooks. When they first started dating, he tried to win her parents over by cooking his infamous spaghetti and meatballs.
It ended up being a complete disaster, and they never let him live it down since, but it ended up being Natalia’s favorite. He continued to make it even though, compared to his wife’s cooking, he was awful. Tonight was the first night she’s requested it since he died.
I manage to make it exactly how she likes it, meatballs, and all. After cleaning up the kitchen, I grab a beer from the fridge and go check up on Natalia, who’s been reading in her room since dinner.
“Bed in fifteen,” I say, popping my head through the doorway.
She doesn’t move. Or speak.
“Nat? Did you hear me?” I ask louder.
Nothing.
I walk next to her and grab the book out of her hands. “Hey!” she screeches and leans up to reach for it, but I pull it up even higher.
“Have you gone mad?” She hisses.
“Have you gone deaf?” I arch a brow.
She makes a face and reaches for it again. “Fifteen minutes,” I say firmly, handing it back to her.
“I was reading that.” She scowls. I repeat my words again as I walk toward the door. “Yes, I heard you. Bed in fifty.”
“Fifteen!” I call over my shoulder with a smile and walk out.
Natalia has another therapy appointment this next week, and even though she’s been going for months, there’s not been much progress. I know she’s going through a lot, even more so at her age, but I just wish I could wrap my arms around her and promise that everything will get better someday.
But I won’t make that promise.
I can only promise that I’ll be here with her as we both work through it.
I walk down the hallway to my office and sit behind my desk as I focus on the boxes piled up in the corner. They aren’t mine, but they represent a part of my childhood. After Ryan’s funeral, Mom asked me to take them for her. She said she couldn’t go through them right now or even look at them. She held on to a few of his personal belongings, but his childhood memories were just too much to bear. Hell, I can barely look at them without feeling anger and resentment pile up inside me, but most likely, Natalia will want his things one day. So until then, they’ll continue to taunt me.
I can remember the day Ryan moved out of the family house fresh out of high school. Boxes and boxes of his childhood all packed up as we moved it into his own apartment. Excitement ran high for him that day, but I was one part sad he was leaving and one part ready to have the house to myself. I hadn’t even entered high school yet, so maybe another part of me was a little jealous.
Whenever he had friends over, they’d goof around and talk about all the parties they planned on going to. Although he was strict with his studies, he knew how to have a good time.
We piled his boxes into the back of a friend’s pick-up truck and hauled them to his tiny new apartment. It was kind of a dump—old, ragged carpet and dents on the walls with a bad paint job—but he was so excited. Mom and Dad didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble, so they shared in the excitement with him.
Once everything was unloaded into his new apartment, we set up his futon sofa-slash-bed where he told me he planned on having a lot of ‘sleepovers’ and needed the bed in the living room. I might’ve been thirteen, but I wasn’t a moron. I knew what he meant.
Then I helped him put together his new coffee table and TV stand that our parents bought him as a ‘housewarming’ gift. It was the only two pieces in the whole place that looked decent, but I gave him six months before parties and dancing girls broke those in.
The tattered boxes of old trophies and school art projects are all Natalia has left of him. He should’ve been the one to show all his memories to her. Be the one to tell her all about how he won the basketball championships, about his disastrous date to prom his freshmen year, and the picture that perfectly captured the moment his date puked down his tux during Senior Homecoming. So many memories that were his to share.
I was surprised when my mom didn’t want to take these back, but even though I hate the thought of them, I’m glad Nat will have them close by for when she’s ready.
I check my watch and head back to Natalia’s room.
“All right, Shorty. Lights out.”
“Just one more chapter,” she whines.
“How many pages is that?”
“Only like…twenty.”
“No. Put it down.”
She flattens it on her chest and glares at me. “You’re a real buzz kill, you know that?”
“And you’re a real pain in my ass, but it’s still time for bed. So c’mon. Get ready.”
“You sure swear a lot.”
Shit. “Sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s not like I’ve never heard my dad swear before.”
“Well, adults sometimes swear. But I’ll try to remember not to when you’re around, okay?”
She shrugs. “Whatever.” She places her book on the nightstand and gets up. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”
She begins to walk toward the bathroom and I notice the sadness in her eyes.
“We can talk about it if you want.” I know there’s a reason she brought up her favorite meal tonight after everything that happened this morning with my mother.
“There’s nothing to talk about. He’s dead.”
I quickly grab her wrist and pull her back toward me. “I know, Nat. I know. But we can talk about him sometimes. It might help ease some of the pain.” She just stares at me, her eyes unreadable. “I feel it, too,” I explain. “I miss him every day.”
“Then why weren’t you ever around? Why didn’t you visit?”
I’m such a fucking asshole. “I should have.” I sigh. “But I was dealing with my own shi-crap and avoided it by staying away from here.”
“What kind of shi-crap?” The corners of her lips curl up a little, and I know she’s mocking me.
“Personal crap. When I left, I was in a bad place. I never wanted to come back.”
“But you did come back,” she counters.
“I did.” I press my lips in a firm line. “I had to.”
“For me?”
I nod. “Yeah. But for me, too. It was time.”
She nods, and the corner of her lips curls up a little more. “Night.”
“Good night.”
I finish another beer before heading to bed. Before Ryan died, I would spend my evenings painting, but nothing about painting appeals to me right now. In fact, the very idea of painting makes me feel even guiltier. Ryan encouraged me to follow my dream once I discovered it, even after Mom and Dad vocalized their disapproval about it as an actual career. He was always supportive and encouraging, not that it surprised me. He was always selflessly helping others. If anyone deserved more from this life, it was Ryan. And now he can’t even watch his daughter grow up.
Life doesn’t play fair.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ASPEN
Not hearing from Morgan is killing me.
And I hate that I’m acting like that girl. The one that pines over a guy who never calls them after a date. The one who gets all emotional and stupid because that guy looks at them with perfect eyes and dimples and then wants to cry because they haven’t talked to you since you gave them the best kiss they’ve ever had.
Yeah, I’m that girl all right. And I hate it.
Being on the other side of the fence is a real drag. Feeling used and worthless is a new low for me, but I’m determined not to let him know he’s lowered me to that level. After he left me high and dry Saturday night, and not hearing from him since, he can kiss my ass. He owes me one hell of an explanation, especially about this Natalia girl, but I’m not going to go begging for one.
I walk into his classroom right on time, not giving him any extra time to try to talk to me. If he wants to give me some lame ass excuse, he’s going to have to work for it.
“I heard the gala was a huge hit!” Ellie’s eyes light up as I sit down next to her.
“It was.” I smile in return.
“I wish I could’ve gone.”
“You should’ve told me. I would have reserved you a ticket.”
“Nah, that’s okay. I’d have no one to go with anyway.”
“Well, if I hadn’t been working, I would’ve gone alone, too.”
“Oh my God! We should totally go out this weekend!” Her eyes light up as her lips spread into a wide, giddy grin. “Yes. We can grab some dinner, go out for drinks, maybe dancing?”
That actually sounds fun, so I easily agree. “I’m in!”
Professor Hampton rounds his desk and connects his eyes with mine. He looks tense and eager, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s pissed me off. I keep the sly smile on my face as he discusses the week’s assignments.
“There’s an opportunity for extra credit coming up. Even if you don’t need it, it’s a great class to participate in. Broadway Street Gallery is hosting a life-drawing workshop this weekend. If you attend, all you have to do is show me your drawing from the event to receive the credit. Like I said, it’s extra credit, but I think a lot of you would benefit from the practice.”
I’d totally forgotten about it until just now. Ms. Jones hosts special events year-round, but this year she was able to reserve a nude art model for a life drawing studio session.
“Life drawing has many benefits as most of you know. It teaches you to see, teaches you how to draw what you can see, and enables you to develop your own style of drawing. There are only a few places in the area that host these types of classes so you might want to consider it just for the experience alone.”
Knowing he’ll be there while I am puts me on edge. He has me so sexually frustrated I’m ready to jump the next guy who looks at me.
However, considering I left the bar the other night with a random guy and had every intention of sticking to my usual one-nighter, and then failing immensely after I shut him down and sent him home, I’d say that’s not the best plan.
I’m sexually frustrated because it’s him…he’s confusing and irritating, and I can’t help but want to rip his clothes off. As much as I want to hate him, scream at him for kissing me and then just leaving, I want him to just acknowledge that kissing me meant as much to him as it did to me. It was hot, passionate, and I’d never felt that way from a kiss before.
It makes no sense, but I can’t let it get to me. I’m the one who doesn’t get attached, knows better than to let emotions get the best of me, yet I’m the one who’s left feeling the ache in my chest.
As we all work on our projects, I avoid any eye contact with him. It’s much harder than it sounds, but I study the paper as if it’s a map to a million-dollar treasure chest. I won’t give him the satisfaction that I’m dying to see if he’s looking at me, too.
“Your shading needs work,” I hear him say from behind me in a distant tone.
I clench my teeth together to keep myself from telling him off. I don’t want to make a scene with witnesses around, but the closer he leans in, the more I’m tempted.
“I’ll work on it,” I reply roughly, keeping my tone low.
Ellie glances at me with a concerned look, but I quickly flash a smile in return. She eyes Professor Hampton as he walks away. I just shrug as if I have no idea what his problem is, and she makes a face behind his back. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at her antics, finally putting me in a better mood.
Class comes to an end, and my heart hasn’t stopped pounding in my chest. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I’m bailing as soon as possible.
“Aspen, I’d like to speak with you after class, please,” he announces just as I put my easel and supplies away in my bag. I cringe at the sound of his demanding tone and if it weren’t for twenty pairs of eyes on me, I’d tell him to fuck off.
But instead, I smile and respond, “Sorry, I’m actually in a huge rush. I have to be somewhere.”
I see his throat tighten as he swallows. He knows he can’t argue with me in front of everyone, so he shrugs it off.
“Oh, sure. I’ll be here early for class on Thursday. You’ll come then.”
“I’ll do my best to be there,” I lie with a condescending tone. He knows I’m putting on a show for everyone eavesdropping.
I walk out with my dignity intact and an extra pep in my step. Ellie rushes up to walk with me and notices the sly smirk on my face.
“What the hell was that?” she asks, her lips turned up.
“Nothing.” I keep walking with my bag over my shoulder.
“Really? If that was nothing, then I’m a reborn virgin.”
The corner of my lips tilt up, amused, but I turn my head so she can’t see the smile creeping on my face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turn back toward her and keep a straight face. “I’m meeting a friend after class and couldn’t stay.”
She studies my features, trying to read me, but I don’t let it show on my face.
“All right, if you say so,” she says, but I know she’s not buying any of it. “Any plans for spring break?”
I let out a relieved sigh at the change of topic. “I’m supposed to fly back home, but I haven’t decided if I’m going or not.”
Speaking of which, my mother’s expecting me in two weeks.
“You?” We walk through the front doors and the warm breeze blows the hair off my shoulders.
“Oh my God!” Her face lights up as her eyes widen at me. “Is that a hickey?” She points to my neck, and I’m quick to cover it up with my hand.
“What?” I ask in a panic.
She bursts into laughter, nearly choking on her own words. “I so got you.”
“You’re a real bitch,” I say, trying to hold in my own laughter.
“You really thought you had one, which means there is something going on with Professor Hampton.”
Fucking hell.
“I assure you there is nothing happening.”
She narrows her eyes at me, not believing my words. “But there was? Or will be? C’mon, I may be a lot of things, but I’m not an idiot. I can smell the sexual tension between you two. It’s so obvious, the rest of us all have bets for when you’re going to finally hook up.”
My eyes grow so big I’m worried they’ll fall right out. I can’t tell if she’s messing with me or not, so I just walk away. “Gotta go!” I call out. “Bye!”
I hear her laughing behind me. My cheeks heat at the thought of other students getting suspicious of the two of us. What happened is never happening again, I’ve decided, so I don’t know why I’m worried, but the last thing I need is the reputation of a student who sleeps with her professors to get good grades.
My work merits all of my good grades and that’s not something I’m willing to jeopardize. Graduate schools have been contacting me since my sophomore year and considering it’s a competitive program, I need all the references I can get in order to be accepted into one of them.
I walk into the gallery Wednesday morning with all the memories of Saturday night still lingering in my mind. That kiss. His lips. Those stupid sexy dimples and charming eyes. I hate that he affects me the way he does. Hell, even in my dreams, my body craves him.
But that doesn’t justify him kissing me and leaving me behind like a meaningless and forgotten one-night stand. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black, I’ve done the same thing dozens of times and never felt an ounce of guilt. Being on this side of the situation is foreign and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
After stowing my things in my locker, I head to Christine’s desk to see what’s on the schedule for today. I’m completely shocked when I walk up and she is smiling and humming lightly.
“Well, this is a nice change o
f pace to your usual grouchy morning attitude.” Her cheeks flush and her eyes focus intently on the papers in front of her. “So, what’s the cause of this early morning Cinderella moment? Should I watch out for singing birds and dancing mice?”
“Oh, shut up, Aspen!” She shuffles her papers, again avoiding eye contact.
“Oh. My. God. You got laid, didn’t you?” I tease, inching closer.
Her face turns about ten shades of red and she flips me off. “As a matter of fact, I did, and you were right. A little D did wonders.” Christine’s voice has that new relationship dreaminess I’ve become used to hearing from Kendall whenever she gets a new boyfriend.
I laugh, clapping my hands in praise. “Of course, I was right. I’m always right when it comes to the D. There is nothing like a big D to fix a bad attitude.”
“Lord, Aspen, you are terrible.” She shakes her head, obviously fighting back laughter. “Time to get to work, crazy lady. You’ve got back-to-back tours today. Two buses full of middle-schoolers.”
“Guess I better get some more coffee if I’m chasing kids all day.”
I couldn’t have asked for a better distraction from all thoughts of Morgan.
MORGAN
After Aspen blew me off Tuesday, I decide I need to talk to her in person and explain everything to her. Telling a girl that the same night I kissed her, my ex-fiancée just happened to show up that same night isn’t really something I want to explain in a text or phone call.
I head to my office early before Thursday’s class in hopes she comes in like I asked her to, but from her prompt response, I have a feeling she won’t.
“Morgan?” I look up and see Claire in the doorway of my office with a bright, eager smile.
I groan. Can this day get any fucking worse?
“Yeah, hi,” I mutter, not in the mood to amuse her. “What can I help you with?”
She steps in and takes a seat across from my desk. “I was just wondering if you are attending the life drawing workshop this weekend.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. I’m hoping some of my students show up.”
“Oh, yeah. Me, too. Although I’m not really sure what to expect with first and second-year students. Most of them are only concerned about where to get a fake ID made and how to get out of their homework.” She snickers.
Pushing the Limits: A Student/Teacher Romance Page 18