“…a fucking orgasm,” we finish together, right on cue.
We look at each other and laugh.
She stands up. “But really,” she says. “I need to pop some Advil or something. My head’s killing me after all that walking.”
“And they say fresh air is good for you,” I scoff. “Fucking liars.”
She eyes me sideways. “You curse like a sailor.”
I show her all my teeth in a vicious grin. “Who do you think I picked it up from?” I ask.
“Oh no! Don’t blame me,” she warns. “Your cussing’s just as bad as mine, if not worse.”
“You just give me freedom to explore my true potential,” I quote, relishing that bullshit line from our high school graduation six years ago.
She snorts a laugh. “You remember that?”
“How could I not?” I ask. “I’m the idiot who gave the damn speech.”
“Yeah, but who wrote it for you?” she reminds me, taking a bite out of a fresh green apple. The juices squirt down her chin.
“You did,” I admit. “Well, in truth, we wrote it together. We thought we were such hot shit back then, didn’t we?”
“All the boys seemed to think so,” she says longingly, twirling a finger through her golden hair.
I wish my hair were as pretty as that, I think in a vapid, self-indulgent moment. Mine’s all black and stiff and frizzy. No matter what products I use or how many stylists I try, nothing’s been able to transform it to look like Summer’s luscious curls.
“Ah, but it was all an illusion, or don’t your recall?” I remind her. “We made ourselves seem invincible. Untouchable. We could have had any guy in our class.”
“I know,” she says. Her eyes twinkle. “Did you ever take advantage?”
“Well, I went out on a lot of dates, remember? We both did. We had dinners paid for, movie tickets bought…”
“I mean, did you ever sleep with one of them?”
I almost burst out laughing. “In high school? God, no! But I more than made up for it in college.”
She gives a sly smile. “I know. That’s why we’re going to have such a good time together, reunited after all these years. Can you believe how long it’s been? Or that here we are, living together?”
“I told you we’d make it work,” I say. “What astounds me is we’re two literature students, for crying out loud! Shouldn’t we be talking about, I don’t know, the social repercussions of Nabokov’s Lolita?”
She scoffs a laugh. “Yeah, right. You try pulling that shit on me again I’m kicking your ass out faster than you can say, ‘hyena.’”
I wrinkle my nose at her. “What?”
“Hyena,” she quotes. “A doglike, nocturnal mammal of Africa that chiefly subsists on carrion.”
I look at her for a long moment… and burst out laughing. “Where’d you get that, the dictionary?”
She pretends to be affronted. “I took a zoology course at Berkeley. While you were off in la-la land earning your liberal arts degree, I was actually learning.”
Then she sighs. “God. What I wouldn’t give for a fucking man who could make me come on demand.”
“You think such a mythical creature exists?” I ask. I think back on all my sex-capades in college… all the experiences which have given evidence to the contrary.
Except for one stranger on the yacht, I think. I wish I hadn’t been in such a hurry to disappear. Then again, if I had stayed… I doubt he would have wanted anything to do with me. That’s why I left. It was a one-night stand. One sinful night. Nothing less. Nothing more.
Besides, I have my rules.
“Anyway,” I continue, brushing the memories aside. “You’d have better luck reaching into your Kindle and plucking out a hero from one of those mommy porn books you so adore.”
“Hey!” She scowls. “Don’t knock Sylvia. She writes hot shit!”
“I heard,” I tell her in a conspiratory voice, “that your favorite author is actually a guy masquerading as a woman. I heard, that he’s actually past fifty, balding, and overweight. I heard he plays StarCraft all night while munching on Cheetos and that the crumbs give him one of those, you know, bright orange mustaches.” I stick a finger above my upper lip and bring my eyebrows up. “I heard he gets a kick out of having legions of female fans, and when he’s lonely, gets off by jerking off to the profile pics they all have accompanying their reviews!”
“Umm, gag,” she says, sticking a finger down her throat and making the appropriate noise. “That’s disgusting. Don’t ruin Sylvia for me!”
“Well, why else do you think she never shows up to conventions?” I tease.
Summer claps both hands over her ears. “La la la la la, I can’t hear you!”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You’re so juvenile.”
“And you, Celeste Adams, are a damn cynic. What, you don’t believe in happily-ever-afters?”
“Not in this world,” I say.
“Anyway,” she tells me. “I’m getting some hot water running and spending the rest of the night in the tub.” She gives a crooked smile. “You’re free to join me, if you like.”
“Hmm, let me think about that. How about no?” I laugh. “You know I prefer penises to pussy.”
“Oh, trust me babe, so do I.” She winks. “But in the absence of one, I’m not entirely opposed to the other.”
I reach under the couch and pull out our secret, little, stainless steel box. “There doesn’t have to be an absence of one…” I remind her.
“I prefer my penises attached to male bodies,” she smirks. “Not motorized.” She turns away. “But if you say you’ve got company tonight, I’m not going to interrupt!”
“Hmm.” I caress the lid of the box as I watch her go.
Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad to retreat to the fantasy of the yacht, locked away in my little room.
4.
Two days later, at breakfast, Summer is buzzing.
“Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod,” she says. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Um, the third day of classes?” I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“No, dumb-dumb. Today is the day we get to meet Professor Landon. He’s our first lecturer.”
“Landon? Who’s that?”
Summer’s jaw drops. “‘Who’s that?’ Are you kidding me?”
I eye her bowl of cereal and give a little sigh. I wish I had the metabolism for sugary crap each morning.
For now, I’m stuck with grapefruit and egg whites.
“No. Why? Should I?”
“Celeste, he’s not just any professor! He’s absolutely brilliant. He’s the sole reason I applied to grad school here.”
“Gee whiz, thanks for the confidence boost,” I quip. “And I thought you were here because of me.”
She gives me a dry look. “That too. But Professor Landon? Gawd!” Her eyes go all dreamy. “He’s unbelievable. He wrote a series of books in his twenties—Little House by the Sea? You’ve never heard of them?”
“No,” I say.
“Well you’ve been living under a rock in that case,” she declares. “I’ve been reading his stuff for more than half a decade! My God! Have you really never heard of him? Not even in passing?”
“Not once,” I say.
She smiles. “Celeste, you’ve got to read him. He’s ridiculously smart. The stuff he writes is just… it’s so…” she trails off, and brings both hands to her chest to give a swoony sigh. “It just speaks to you, you know? It speaks to your very soul.”
I offer a sideways smile. “Your soul, or my soul? Whose soul? Everybody’s soul?”
She fixes me with a pointed look. “Don’t tease. He’s also extraordinarily handsome. Like, on some Henry Cavill level shit.”
I give an impressed whistle. “So, he’s hot?”
“Oh, he’s more than hot,” she chuckles. “He’s like, panty-dropping, fuck-me-right-now level of hot.”
“Wait, but I’m confused.” I pick at my eg
gs and tilt my head sideways. “Do you like him because of his mind, or his looks?”
“Both!” she exclaims. “Check this out.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a brand new book. I see the name Landon on the spine. “I bought it last night! I want him to sign it for me. Do you think he’d do it?”
“Oh, I have no doubt,” I tell her.
“I also heard he’s teaching an undergrad course this year. Do you know what that means?”
“That… you’ll be competing for his attention with all the younger girls?” I tease.
“No, Celeste. That he’s going to need TA’s to help him out! And guess where he’ll be choosing them from?”
“Names from a hat?” I quip.
“No, dammit! From us. From his graduate students.” She puffs up her hair and readjusts her bra. “I’m going to apply.”
“See, now I’m trying to figure out whether you want to fuck him or work with him.” I smile.
She narrows her eyes at me. “To work. Come on, Celeste, get your mind out of the gutter. Although…” she adds after a lengthy pause, “…if he so decides to seduce me, I won’t be entirely opposed.”
I laugh and push my half-eaten breakfast away. “Come on, then. We should get going if we want to grab good seats for his lecture.”
5.
We’re among the first students to walk into the auditorium for Professor Landon’s morning class. But those who are there have already bunched up together in the front. And they’re all definitely female.
Summer pulls me into the second row of seats, front and center, as close as we can get to the podium without kicking one of the earlier arrivals out. She’s teetering with excitement.
I look around. This is a pretty big auditorium for a graduate class. Stained glass windows let in the sun, coloring it in hues of green, blue, red, and yellow. Combined with the cedar and oak polished interior, this place almost feels like a church.
“So how long before this guy shows up?” I ask.
“He should be here in about forty-five minutes,” Summer says.
“Forty-five minutes? You told me it started at eight-fifteen!” I glance at my watch. “It’s eight-ten!”
She shrugs and gives a “Who me?” smile. “Oops,” she says.
“You mean you got me out of bed almost an hour early so we would wait here for him?”
“I wanted good seats,” she says coolly. “If I’d known those bitches in the front would be here, I would’ve awakened you two hours early.”
One of the girls hears the comment and glances back.
“She doesn’t mean that!” I say quickly.
The girl scoffs and wriggles higher in her seat, trying to cut off our view.
“Entitled, trust-fund brats,” Summer mutters under her breath.
I shoot her a cautionary look. “Play nice!”
“I will,” she says. “For now. But I swear to God, if one of these bitches tries to take my spot as a TA, the claws are coming out.”
The girl in front of us coughs, quite loudly, clearly having heard the remark.
“She thinks I won’t do it,” Summer says. “You tell her, Celeste. I’m no mincemeat.”
“I’m sure there are going to be enough positions available for everyone,” I say softly, trying to diffuse the situation. I place a hand on Summer’s arm.
“Whatever,” she says. “When he sees me, he’ll clearly know I’m the best.”
“Clearly,” I repeat.
She shoots me a scandalized look. “Was that sarcasm?”
“Oh no,” I say. “This is sarcasm.”
Summer rolls her eyes.
“So why don’t you tell me more about these books of his that you so adore?” I ask, steering the conversation to calmer waters.
“What’s there to tell?” Summer asks. She sticks her hand in her bag, takes out his book, and plants it in my lap. “Here,” she says. “You’ve got forty-five minutes. You can find out for yourself. Then you’ll see why I’m not completely crazy lusting after him.”
***
I’m wholly consumed by the book as soon as I hit the second page. I don’t even notice the auditorium fill up around me.
Suddenly, I feel a poke in my side. I look over and see Summer, as excited as a tick at a coon convention.
“He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s coming!” she exclaims. “Look sharp!”
I tear my eyes away from the pages regretfully. I look around me. Every single seat is taken. Even the aisles are crowded.
Wow, I really missed the boat on this guy.
I’m turned back to the stage, taking in the size of the crowd, when a voice comes over the intercom.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming.”
I freeze.
That voice. That calm, controlled, silky smooth, dangerously low voice. I would recognize it again in a heartbeat.
It’s him.
Summer tugs on my sleeve. “Celeste, ohmigod! Look! Look! There he is!”
I turn the remainder of the way forward…
And see my lover from the yacht.
“Oh my God,” I murmur.
I sink down in my seat.
“I know, right?” Summer whispers, mistaking the cause of my disbelief. “Isn’t he fucking gorgeous?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I mumble.
I bring a hand over my face and try to look as inconspicuous as possible. Jesus! The man’s no more than half a decade older than me, maybe less, and he’s already a professor?
“How old is he?” I whisper.
“What?” Summer gives me a strange look. “I don’t know. Thirty-something? Why does it matter? He’s smoking hot!”
“Excuse me,” he interrupts. He stops and looks right at us. “You two. Is there something you’d like to contribute?”
“Oh, no, no,” Summer titters. “We’re very sorry.”
“I don’t like interruptions in my class.” I can feel his eyes on us, but mostly on Summer. I don’t think he’s noticed me yet. I try to scoot even lower, hiding my face…
“Yes sir, I understand. Sorry, Professor. It won’t happen again.”
I watch, peeking out from under the hand shadowing my eyes, as he gives a tight nod. “Make sure it doesn’t,” he says, and steps back to continue his introduction.
Disaster averted, I think.
“Although…” he begins, turning back to us…
His eyes meet mine before I can hide or look away. Momentary surprise flickers across his features. And then comes a slight, sexy, mischievous, self-satisfied smile.
He turns away and continues the lecture.
“What the hell was that all about?” Summer hisses in my ear.
“No idea,” I lie, feeling my ears burn red.
6.
After class, Summer won’t shut up about seeing her idol live, for the first time, and in person.
I’m only halfway there. I listen on autopilot, giving the obligatory “yeah’s” or “uh-huh’s” where appropriate, but my mind is consumed with images from that one sinful night.
His clear, green eyes shining in the dark. His tongue lapping between my legs. His fluidity, as he rises after coaxing the most amazing orgasm out of me with his mouth…
“Celeste! Hey, earth to Celeste! Are you even listening to me?”
“What?” I snap out of my remembrance and nod. “Yeah, of course.”
“Then what was I saying?”
“That after our final class of the day you want to go to Professor Landon’s office hours and see if he’ll sign your book…”
I trail off. Shit! I heard what she said, but it didn’t register until she made me repeat it.
“Yeah,” she says, a little surprised. She grabs my elbow and pulls me forward. “And you’re coming with me.”
I rack my brain for an escape, some sort of excuse, but come up blank.
Why would I be opposed to meeting a super-hot, young, brilliant, sexy professor who any female on earth would wa
lk over hot coals to just get a glimpse of?
I wouldn’t. Not without raising suspicions.
But I sure as hell can try.
“My feet hurt,” I mope, pulling at straws. “Can’t we do it some other time? Tomorrow, or maybe next week?”
“Um, no.” She fixes me with a no-nonsense look. “Weren’t you listening at all during lecture? Although, I guess I can’t blame you for fantasizing about him. We all do… but seriously, Celeste, remember what he said at the end?”
“Remind me,” I say weakly, knowing my flimsy defense will hold no water.
“That he’ll be choosing his TAs soon! I want to make sure to stand out in his mind.” She tugs down on her shirt a little. Her boobs nearly pop out. She gasps.
“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that,” I laugh.
The question is: How do I avoid notice?
***
My mind keeps going over possible scenarios as the clock ticks down to Summer’s and my second encounter with Professor Landon.
Well–her second, my third. How many times have I thought about the beautiful stranger these past few weeks? Somehow, with absolutely no conscious decision on my part, he’d pervaded my every thought. Before, playing over that night again and again in my head was just fantasy. There was no way I’d ever see him again. Right?
Only now, there’s no way I won’t see him again. The stars have aligned to make our paths cross.
What’s more… he remembers me. When our eyes met, and that smile flashed across his face, I felt like a deer trapped in the snares of a hunter.
A very, very willing deer. Caught in the snares of a very, very, very capable hunter.
Yet obviously, this scenario makes for some awkward choices. Do I tell Summer that yes, I fucked the very man she’s lusting after and that yes, holy hell yes, the sex was spectacular? Do I admit that I’ve been harboring secret memories of that night, sometimes wishing I could experience it again, and now am faced with that exact same situation?
Be careful what you wish for…
Do I admit to her that I have an advantage she would kill for?
I bet he’s got women throwing themselves at his feet everywhere he turns. My best friend is a prime example. But that secretive smile, the look he shared only with me, for just a flicker of a second… well, that was nothing from my imagination then.
Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) Page 122