Page 145 of Wish You Were Mine
He didn’t elaborate, just gave a mysterious little shrug.
“Well, I guess I better head out so I can find out what you did to my backpack.”
“Yes.” He chuckled softly, his eyes holding mine. “You better.”
But even as he said it, neither of us moved. And all I wanted was to sink back into the couch with him and let time stretch a little longer between us. But I sighed and reached for my coat. “I should probably get back to my place before my mom checks my location and sees I’m not there.”
He froze. “Your mom checks your location?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “Usually only if I don’t answer her texts or if she knows I’m traveling. It’s not, like, constant.”
“Still…” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I could see the wheels turning. “That could be a problem. If she realizes you were here…and knows this isn’t student housing…”
I swallowed. He was right. And even though I didn’t think my mom was currently tracking me, the possibility still stirred a sense of unease.
We hadn’t officially defined what was going on between us—whether we were a real couple or not—but we’d definitely stepped into the gray.
“Do you get nervous about us spending so much time together?” I looked up at him. “About what might happen if someone saw us?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, we’ve been careful. And I don’t think we’re doing anything morally wrong. We’re both adults. But…”
“But since we haven’t exactly been forthcoming with the dean,” I said slowly, “it could get…complicated.”
“It could.” He nodded, the corners of his mouth tightening. “Which kind of makes it feel a little wrong.”
“Wrong?” I tilted my head, not loving the sound of that.
“Maybeforbiddenis a better word,” he said, softening his tone. “It’s exciting. And obviously I’d rather be with you than not. But I also know how it might look to someone who doesn’t understand how we got here. I mean, Iama lot older than you…”
“In years, maybe,” I teased, bumping my shoulder into his. “Maturity, though? That’s still up for debate.”
“Okay, fair.” He chuckled, the tension in his expression easing.
“Though, maybe I still have a little catching up to do there, too.”
“You’re just the way you’re supposed to be,” he said, his voice gentle as he leaned in to press a kiss to my forehead. “Just perfect for me.”
My chest fluttered, a sweet ache blooming beneath my ribs.
“Do you think we should tell Dean Harris about us, though?” I asked softly. “Would that make you feel better? More secure with your job since professors are supposed to disclose relationships like ours?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You think we could do that without your dad finding out?”
“Probably not.” I wrinkled my nose. “They’re pretty good friends.”
“And what do you think the chances are of us telling your dad without him completely freaking out?”
I winced. “I mean…hemightsurprise us.”
Though we both knew he wouldn’t.
Even if my dad was magically okay with me dating my professor, the fact that Owen was seven years older than me would be an issue for him. He’d already been freaked out too much by stories in the news several years back about gymnasts being abused by a man in a position of power whom they’d thought they could trust.
So if he had the slightest concern that Owen had used his position and age in any way to influence me, that would definitely trigger his worst fears.
Owen chuckled. “So maybe we think about it over spring break and hope a solution magically appears.”
“Yes.” I grabbed my backpack and slipped it over my shoulders, fluffing my hair out from under the straps. “Are you still going to New York to see your brother next week?”
