Page 64 of His to Teach
My entire life has become a heady mix of sex and Nate and interesting, hard work and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.
Until I turn the page in my day planner and realize that October has somehow slipped away into November while I was out there having fun, and a low thrum of dread grows in my belly.
This happens every single year, and has for more than a decade. But that doesn’t make it any easier to get over.
I try not to think about it too much, the stupid date that’s steadily approaching. In addition to the research with Nate, I have my full course load of work to complete. Everything seems to be picking up at once now that we’re at the midpoint of the semester and I have tests or papers scheduled in nearly all my classes.
Still, at the back of my mind a countdown has begun. A countdown to that day I dread so much.
There’s one day left on that countdown when I meet my classmate Meredith at the library to study for our upcoming midterm. Methods of Critique is by far my most boring course, and I’ve been putting off this test prep for days. Not the smartest move, considering how much more distracted and upset I’ve become the closer I get to the dreaded day.
“Are you okay, Harper?”
I blink, looking up at Meredith across our stack of books, and get the impression she’s been trying to get my attention for a while. “What?”
My classmate’s expression is concerned as she peers at me. “You’re staring into space. You’ve been zoning out since we got here. What’s with you?”
I shake my head, trying to clear it. She’s right—I’ve been completely zoned out. “I’m fine,” I tell her, trying to smile. “Just tired.” I point down at the textbook on the table. “And bored as hell.”
She snorts. “I can’t blame you. Has there ever been a more mind-numbing topic as Methods of Critique? I swear, this course is going to make it impossible for me to read anything for pleasure ever again.”
I try to arrange my expression into something appropriately good-natured. The truth is, my spaciness has nothing to do with being tired or bored, though I did sleep horribly last night.
It didn’t help that my brother called this morning. I was expecting it—he always calls more around the anniversary. But the conversation had only made me feel worse. “They’d be so proud of you, Harper,” he told me, his tone earnest. “If they could see how hard you work, they would really be so proud.”
That’s what it always comes down to with him—work. The entire measure of my ability to make my family proud is based on how hard I work, how much time I put in. Who cares if my personal life has been suffering for years? Who cares if I’m lonely as hell? Who cares if I’m so starved for attention that I put up with my ex’s abusive shit for far too long?
Not to mention that whole sleeping-with-my-professor-and-letting-him-do-kinky-shit-to-me thing. I’m sure that would make them real proud.
I try to force my attention back to my text book. This is what usually helps, when I’m feeling bad about my life. Studying. Facts. Sticking to a plan. But today it’s doing little to calm my chaotic emotions. There’s only one thing I want right now. And he’s completely off limits.
“Ooh, it’s Professor Yummy,” Meredith says. “Aren’t you working on his research team?”
My eyes snap up to see Nate entering the library. Is it possible I summoned him here by force of will? I drink him in as he weaves his way through the tables, finally stopping at an empty one halfway across the room. He looks good today—no surprises there—dressed in fitted black slacks and a plain white button down with a slate grey tie. His sleeves are rolled up, giving a delicious glimpse of corded forearms. I watch as he pulls out a stack of papers and a red pen.
“You’re a lucky bitch,” Meredith sighs, going back to her book. “That is one fine man.”
Girl, you have no idea,I think. I pretend to go back to my own text as well, but I can’t help stealing glances at him. If my memory of his schedule is correct—and of course it is, I’m totally obsessed with the guy—he has an hour or so before his next class. Obviously, he stopped in to get some grading done during his break. After this he’ll teach an intermediate level seminar, and then he’ll be in the classroom for our research session. After that, he’s done for the day. He might come back to the office to work for a while. Or maybe he’ll go home. Maybe I’ll get to go with him.
God, I wish we were going to the club tonight. The desire hits me with such ferocity it makes my stomach twist. And it’s not lust—or, at least, it’s not only lust—that has me feeling this desperate. It has more to do with the way I feel when I’m with him at Wyld. Like the world outside ceases to exist.
LikeIcease to exist, the parts of me that are confusing or difficult or painful. Everything feels simple, easy. All I have to do is obey Nate. No room for my usual overthinking or questions. When I’m with him at the club, it almost feels like I’m someone else.
Suddenly I’m struck by an idea so perfect a wave of giddiness crashes over me. I know exactly what I want to do right now. The idea terrifies me, almost makes me nauseous with fear, but it also soothes something deep inside me. The idea that there might be a way to recreate the way I feel at Wyld right here, right now—it’s too tempting to ignore, even if it scares me.
“I’m just about done here. I should probably go over and see if he needs anything for the research study,” I say to Meredith, trying to keep my voice even.
She gives me a knowing smirk. “It’s never the wrong time to suck up.”
I somehow manage not to snort at her choice of words, keeping my face averted while I gather my things. “The exciting life of a grad student,” I agree. “Good luck with your studying.”
She rubs at her eyes. “Honestly, I’ve had about enough of this shit. I need some food and a beer. Want me to wait for you?”
“Nah,” I tell her, standing. “Have a good night.”
She says something else but I’m no longer paying attention. I’m heading across the room to talk to Nate, and there’s no room in my head for anything but him.
“Professor,” I murmur once I’ve reached his table.
