“Something wrong, Mr. Bain?” I ask, my voice coy. Raising my arm to run my fingers through my hair, the cool air hits my exposed stomach.
He turns around and stares at me. His eyes are glued to my flesh. I smile. So, we’re playing that game now, are we?
“This needs to stop.”
“Really? But we’ve barely even begun.” I pluck one of the buttons on my shirt loose, pulling it back slightly to reveal the pale pink bra I’m wearing. His eyes zero in on my breasts, only to turn away abruptly.
“Nothing should’ve happened in the first place, Zara. I’m sorry that I let you down. I’m your teacher. I’m supposed to know better.”
“Right,” I say, slipping off the desk. He tenses as I near him. I have him against the wall and I don’t plan on letting up just yet. He glances at the door and I laugh. “Are you worried? Afraid you can’t control yourself around me?”
I step closer. He swallows and lets out a groan as my hand brushes past his crotch. I tilt my head and kiss his neck, my hand creeping inside his slacks. Gently, I close my fingers around his length, my fist slowly riding up his shaft.
“God,” he gasps. His eyes close as the back of his head rests against the wall. He continues to grow in my grip, pumping his hips toward me against his will. Pressing my body closer to his, just to rub my breasts across his chest. “Zara, stop.” His fingers grab my wrist.
“What?” I pout, not loosening my grip. My tongue snaking out to lick the stubble on his jaw.
“We’re not doing this.” His voice strains as he closes his eyes and gasps.
“Seems to me like we are,” I tease, slowly dropping to my knees. His hands come down on my shoulders, the look on his face screaming that he doesn’t want to blur the lines. Staring up at him, I see his expression is pained, as if he really does want this but knows the consequences if anyone finds out. Keeping my gaze fixed on his, I wrestle his pants down below his balls and his erection springs free. I carefully lick the tip, swirling my tongue around his swollen head. “You really want me to stop? I mean, I can if you really want me to.” I take as much of him as my mouth will let me and slowly suck while he relaxes in front of me.
“God…” His fingers lace around my hair and he yanks me off his cock. I can’t help but giggle. “You need to stop with the fucking games, Zara. This ends here. Are we clear?”
“Games?” I chuckle. “You can’t keep your eyes—or your hands—off me. And I’m the one playing? See you later, Mr. Bain.”
I pick up my bag and swing it over my shoulder and walk to the door, not looking back. That could not have gone better if I’d planned it. Hell, what am I saying? I did plan it.
—
“Going somewhere?”
Dillon picks up his keys and kisses my forehead.
“Basketball with the guys. I’ll be home late.”
Of course. Every night is guys’ night for Dillon. I can’t remember the last time we spent an evening together that wasn’t in front of the television or studying. I don’t think it’d be asking for too much of him to set aside one night just for us. Even though I’m not as into our relationship as I used to be, he has to get that. If he really loved me, wouldn’t he want to fix it? Put in some effort? I know Karly’s death put some distance between us, but hell, he doesn’t pay me any attention unless he wants to get laid or needs someone to cook dinner. I think it’s fair to say we’re both just going through the motions at this point. It’s actually really sad. But who can I blame? Both of us, that’s who.
We’re together because it’s comfortable, because we’re not ready to have the conversation that I think we both know is coming. Maybe part of it is I’m not ready to let go because he’s my only link to Karly. He represents a time when life was great and I was happy.
I sigh and reach for the phone to order some takeout. The last thing I feel like doing is cooking. I look up the number for Roberto’s and order some carryout for dinner. The thought of cooking a full meal for one is more depressing than ordering out. I haven’t been there in years, but it’s the only restaurant I know off the top of my head.
The drive to Roberto’s is less than five minutes. I could’ve walked it, but let’s face it, fitness isn’t exactly my forte. Thank God I was able to score the job at the diner, across the street from the gym, that Dillon wanted me to work at—something about knowing the manager and hot chicks drawing in a crowd. The diner is a better fit for me anyway: people-watching and all. Having something other than my life to focus on keeps my mind somewhat stable.
I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw Noah walking from the gym to the diner. Though it shouldn’t have shocked me, being that it’s the only gym in town. It’s obvious from his toned, ripped body that he works out. It was him coming to my place of employment that shocked me. If he keeps doing all of this, which only makes my job easier, I’m not going to be able to take credit for wrecking him, he’ll have done all the work himself. I just happen to be in the right spot at the right time.
A shiver races through my body. What the hell was that? Arousal? I’m caught off guard, because that is not something I expect to be feeling when I think about him. Sure, he’s hot—sexy, even—but he’s an asshole. A monster who preys on vulnerable girls. That was anything but attractive. But his slightly messy bed head and light blue eyes keep distracting me.
I walk inside Roberto’s and wait at the register for my order. I survey the room, surprised to see it’s quite full, especially for a weeknight. My gaze falls on a table near the rear of the restaurant.
He’s here. With his girlfriend. My heart begins to pound as I watch them interact. He hasn’t seen me yet, so I duck behind a wooden beam so I can observe them. They’re arguing. A smile spreads across my lips as I watch her throw her arms up, frustrated. She scoots back her chair and stomps off. My eyes widen when I realize she’s headed in my direction.
She moves past me and into the bathrooms near the front exit. Without thinking, I follow her in. She stands at the sinks, wiping away tears. Her eyes meet mine briefly before she looks away, embarrassed.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, plastering a concerned look on my face.
She smiles and nods.
“I’m fine.” She laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I let him get to me.”
“Man troubles?” I ask knowingly. She nods, rolling her eyes.
“He just doesn’t understand. He thinks it’s so fucking easy because he found work right away after college. He doesn’t get that there is nothing here for me. Of course my four-year degree is a waste—we live in the middle of fucking Hicksville.”
“What did you study?” I ask.
“Fashion design,” she says and laughs. “I guess it’s a waste of money and time. The funny thing is, I brought him here so I could tell him something. Northwestern is running a mentorship program and they’ve asked me to be a part of it. I even get to choose my student,” she adds with a smile. “It’s the happiest I’ve felt in months.”
“So go out there and tell him that,” I say. “Don’t let him make you feel less than what you’re worth just because he’s more advanced in his career.”
She nods, determination creeping into her eyes.
“You’re right. I’m being silly.” She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath before turning back to me. “Thanks. I’m not normally this emotional or this open with random women in the bathroom. Still, thanks for the pep talk.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not normally this friendly,” I joke. She laughs and walks over to the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe,” I murmur.
I wait until she’s exited the bathroom before I walk over and turn on the faucet. I stare at my reflection in the mirror as the cool water runs over my hands. She’s absolutely stunning, even more beautiful than she was in the pictures. How can I even begin to compete with that? I don’t stand a chance when it comes to his girlfriend. He chose her for a reason, and I can see exactly why.
Chapter 12
Noah
Just before leaving school for the day, I receive a text from Shannon telling me to meet her at Roberto’s this evening—that she has something she wants to discuss with me. Right from the college, I head to the gym to try to burn off some of the stresses plaguing me lately—more specifically, the tension built up due to Zara’s friendly handshake with my dick. Yep, I’m still thinking about that.
All. The. Fucking. Time.
After my workout, I head home for a quick shower before going to meet Shannon at Roberto’s. Walking into the restaurant, I see it’s rather busy for a weeknight. We’re able to get a booth in the back, which would be a perfect setting for a date, but I’m just not into it. All the miles I ran on the treadmill earlier didn’t do much to take the edge off, and my attention is dwindling the more she talks.
“So, I went by Northwestern earlier today and spoke with one of the department heads of their fashion school. It’s not much, only going to be a few hours a week, but they’ve offered me a position to mentor potential students that want to take some fashion courses before deciding on a major,” Shannon says, eyes beaming with pride.
“Sounds good,” I mumble, shoving a forkful of pasta into my greedy mouth.
“You could be a little more excited for me,” she whines, taking a drink from her glass, never taking her eyes off mine.
“What do you want me to say? Congratulations for getting a job four years after graduating?” I immediately wish I could take that back. My statement was rude and uncalled for. She’s right, I should be happy for her, excited even. It’s not Shannon’s fault I’m wound up tighter than a yo-yo. “I’m sorry, Shan. That was rude,” I say apologetically.
“You’re right, it was rude. I figured after all your subtle little hints about me not pulling my weight, you would be happy I found something in the field I went to school for. I know it’s not much, but shit, Noah, it’s something.”
“Tell me more about it.”
“No, I’m not telling you shit. You’re such a fucking asshole.” Taking a large swallow from her wineglass, she slams it down so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
Shannon rises from her seat and throws her napkin onto the table. “I’m going to the ladies’ room.” Without a second glance, she turns her back and rushes off toward the bathrooms.
Sitting in my seat, feeling very much like the jackass I am, I wait for her to return. After about five minutes, I’m worried she’s left, so I set out to check on her. Just outside the restroom, I notice Shannon drying her eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Instead of interrupting a moment that she believes is private, I make my way back to our table and wait for her to return.
Catching the waiter before he makes his way to the kitchen, I ask him to bring out a molten lava cake and our bill. It’s the least I can do for Shannon after ruining her news.
Once she’s back, I reach across the table and take her hands in mine, rubbing gently across the tops of them. “I really am sorry, Shan. It’s been a crazy week and I took out my frustrations on you. Forgive me?” Just then the waiter arrives, setting down the cake in the middle and the check next to my forearm.
Shannon smiles, nods, and wastes no time picking up a fork and slicing into the cake. I slip my credit card into the bill, hand it off to the waiter, and watch Shannon enjoy her little slice of heaven.
At least I did something right.
Chapter 13
Zara
I’m late to my tutoring session with Noah—mainly because I’ve been over at the college applying for the fashion mentorship. I hung around until I ran into Shannon, making sure she knew I applied. The way her eyes lit up made me want to laugh. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ve got this.
I walk into the library, where Noah and I have arranged to meet. I’ve taken extra care with my appearance today. Not that it matters. I could wear a sack and he still wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off me.
Walking over to the study area, I pull out a chair and sit down, annoyed that he’s late. I don’t like being kept waiting. After ten minutes I’m about to leave when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around, expecting Noah, but instead I’m face-to-face with one of the other English teachers in the department, Professor Banton.
“Zara? Professor Bain asked me if I wouldn’t mind taking over your tutoring sessions. He’s had some personal issues arise that make him unable to fulfill his requirements.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“I appreciate it, Professor Banton, but I was actually here today to let Professor Bain know that I wouldn’t be able to make our sessions anyway. Work asked me to cover a few extra shifts, and I feel bad saying no.”
“Oh, well, that worked out well, then, didn’t it?” She smiles. “You know where to find me if you need any help, dear.”
“Thanks.” I smile. I grab my bag and stalk out of the library, tapping out a text to Noah on the way.
Me: Personal issues??
Noah: I’d say things have changed in our relationship and it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to spend any more time together outside the classroom.
Me: Right, so my grades have to suffer because you can’t keep your dick in your pants?
Noah: Ms. Banton is a great teacher. You’ll be fine with her.
Me: Ms. Banton is a moron.
I shove my phone into my pocket and storm out to my car.
He’s still fucking avoiding me. I’ve given up on the tutoring. I don’t need help; that was all just a ploy to get closer to him. His wishy-washy attitude shouldn’t bother me; if anything, it should show me that he’s not the kind of person to engage in an illicit affair, but I know better. Don’t I?
—
I lie on my bed while I try to figure this out. My laptop dings, alerting me to a new message coming in. I smile as I click on it. Ryan. Seeing his name makes me realize how much I miss him.
Ryan: Hey, Zars, are you around?
It’s a quick message, and looking at the time stamp, it was sent only a few minutes ago. Unable to control my excitement, I tap back a reply.
Me: Yep. Are you still here?
Go to messenger, he replies, and I open up the instant messenger app on my phone. There is nothing in this world that could make me happier than having an actual conversation with my brother.
Me: Hey, you. I miss you so much. How are you doing?
Ryan: I’m good, baby sis. How’s school? Grades good?
Me: Grades rock, duh. Just having boy problems.
Ryan: Dillon? You know I’m trained to kill a man using only my pinkie, right?
Me: LMFAO. Different guy, not Dillon. It’s this other guy I’m interested in, but he just ignores me.
Ryan: Well, then he’s a dumbass. I’m happy you’re moving on from Dillon. That guy is a fucking mo-ron.
Me: I love you.
Ryan: So tell me what’s up with this other dude. Am I going to hate him?
Me: It’s possible, LOL. He’s really nice and super-smart. He just doesn’t seem interested in me, only sometimes I think he likes me.
Ryan: He’s a man. Men want what they can’t have. Pick a different dude and flirt a bit. It’ll get his attention.
Me: I don’t think it’ll work. He’s older, more mature than that.
Ryan: Yeah. He has a dick. He’s not mature. Stop kidding yourself.
Me: Okay, enough about this. I miss you. Home soon?
Ryan: Real soon. I might get an early discharge. Maybe before Christmas.
Me: OMG…that would be AMAZING!!!
Ryan: I know. I miss snow. And you, too, sis.
Me: You have no idea.
Ryan: K, I gotta get back. Just wanted to talk to you. Remember, flirt around. And if he hurts you, he gets the pinkie.
Me: I can’t wait to see you. Love you so much.
Ryan: Love you m
ore, kid. SOON!
—
The following Monday in class, I decide to try out my brother’s advice. He’s never led me wrong before, why would he start now? So as I make my way into class, I survey the room and the only decent-looking guy is Luke, football player extraordinaire. Since our seats are close, right next to each other, I volunteer him to be my guinea pig for this experiment of sorts.
Noah walks into the classroom shortly after we’re all seated. Based on his notes on the board, we’re to be working on a paper due at the end of the quarter. Instead, I take this opportunity to introduce myself to Luke and see where things go from here.
“Hey, I’m Zara,” I whisper, leaning toward his desk. His head shoots up and his eyes connect with mine. A panty-melting smile crosses his lips. Yeah, this guy will do.
“Luke,” he says, extending his hand, which I accept.
“You play football? Do you like it?” I ask, unsure of how to begin a conversation with someone I don’t necessarily want to talk to.
“I love it. You should come to a game sometime. It would be cool.”
“Yeah, maybe sometime.” I glance toward the front of the room and see Noah’s watchful eyes on me, monitoring every move I make. His face is cold as stone, and the way his fingers grip the pencil in his hand leads me to believe I’m doing something right. Excellent advice, Ryan.
“What are you doing tonight?” Luke asks, breaking me from my stare-down with Noah. Whipping my head in his direction, I smile sweetly and answer.
“Whatever you’re doing, I guess.” All this practice of my seduction technique with Noah might have been a good thing—setting me up for the real world and all.
“Excellent. Meet me at the student union at nine?”
“Of course.”
—
At exactly nine I’m waiting for Luke in a little coffee bar inside the student union. He’s not arrived yet, which is a point against him in my book, but then again, this isn’t really a date. Not for me, anyway. I glance around, and the room’s filled mostly with students studying; then I catch Noah sitting at a table looking through papers. He gives me a questioning glare, but I ignore it.
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