Page 2 of Forbidden Fruit

Olivia

"Getyoursexyassup!" Mia's piercing voice demands, rousing me from what little sleep I got the previous night. I tossed and turned for most of it as the anticipation and dread over today coiled in my stomach. It still lingers, battling for dominance, and I can't tell who's winning. Mia yells as a pillow smacks my head. She instantly runs down the hallway. The sun glares through the cracks of my curtains, and I decide I might as well get up, although I’d rather curl up and die than get out of this comfortable California King bed. I open one eye haphazardly. There isn’t a mirror in my bedroom yet, but judging by the feel of my hair, I don't need it. I'd bet money that I look like Medusa.

I stifle a loud yawn. Mia's hair dryer is already echoing down the hallway as she gets ready in her bathroom. Spotting my pink mat, laying dejected in the corner, I consider a yoga session as I stretch my arms overhead. I need to get back into the routine of morning yoga. It stops the thoughts from spiraling on days like today. My nose smells the glorious coffee in the kitchen like a bloodhound searching for prey in the woods, and I forget about the Vinyasa that I was considering moments ago. Grabbing a hair tie to pull my hair into a messy bun, I head to the caffeine calling my name. Mia has a mug and almond milk sitting out for me. I pour my cup as my second alarm sounds.

"Bitch, are you up yet?" Mia calls over her hair dryer.

"I'm getting coffee!" I scream back, unsure if my voice carries over the bathroom rave that's ensuing as she gets ready.

My third alarm of the morning sounds, and I finally shut the bitch off. It’s not as bad as usual. Typically, I need at least five to get myself out of bed. I am notoriously not a morning person. My best friend, Alexandria, knows I will not willingly attend a brunch unless it's after ten am. I'm not sure why I didn't allot the same rules for my classes. I grab the mug from the counter, heading towards the shower. If there's anything that gives the premonition of a fucked up day to come, terrible coffee is top of the list. Thankfully, the first scalding sip I take is perfect.

It’s no secret that I'm not a fan of the unknown. My attendance at Bennington wasn’t a surprise. This first day of school at Bennington has been in the cards for me for years. It was expected, but not necessarily demanded, and those types of expectations always fuck me up the most. With Dad as the longest tenured Dean, Bennington is a significant part of my family's legacy. The passive aggressive comments over the years, well before senior year, made it obvious that they would view me attending elsewhere as a monumental betrayal. So, I played the part of a dutiful daughter and eagerly agreed without giving an inkling that I would even consider otherwise.

Bennington could be worse. An Ivy League school, Bennington sits as the highest-ranked medical school in the country. Lucky for me, I intend to leave medical school as an oncologist. That’s where being the Dean’s only child has its perks. My acceptance was guaranteed, making the process far less stressful than for many others my age. I know I won't have to move after undergrad. Shit, I’ll only have to apply to their medical school as a formality.

I can't just leave well enough alone, can I? Contrary to my ambition, all I can think about is living in a world where I'm not ruled by the paralyzing fear of disappointing others. I want to do something for myself. Whether I try and succeed or I fail. I just want one thing for myself.

I make my way through the spacious apartment to my walk-in closet, the hardwood floors cool on my feet. Reincarnated Hercules hung a few pictures while I gaped at the muscles in his back. My favorite piece hangs on my closet wall. I can't help but smile every time I see it. The painting is Alexandria'sMagnus Opus. The bright blue ocean sits behind me, the sky painted a dazzling collection of pinks, oranges, and yellows. I sit facing the camera in a pink bikini and floppy hat, tan and blissful after a full day in the sun with a wide smile on my face. I try to push aside the thoughts of Julian and what came after that trip to Bora Bora, but they resurface anyway. Two years of my life wasted, just so I could catch him fucking his personal trainer’s wife in his apartment. As if that didn't sting enough, he had the audacity to blame his infidelity on me being boring and disinterested in sex.

A glance at the time snaps me out of my reverie and brings me back to the task at hand: choosing an outfit. I peruse my blouses, running my fingertips along the soft fabric. After a quick deliberation, I choose a white silky camisole and a white button up with a bow tie collar. My eyes instantly land on a pair of high-waisted leather pants. I put the outfit on, knowing damn well I have a full day of labs. Ultimately, I decide why the fuck not. While I'm certain the rest of the semester will call for practicality in the wardrobe department, I'm not worrying about that today. Mia told me last night that I need to dress like a badass bitch today. It’s been two years since I was last single. Fuck Julian. He may not be here to see what he's missing, but I'm sure as hell going to make him miss it, anyway. Slipping on a pair of blackLouboutinstilettos and a whiteAll Saintsbag, I head out the door.

My first class of the day does not give me high hopes for the semester. Professor Halloway drones on in principles of cell biology so long that I'm sure my funeral is going to be held in this room.

"Christ, does he think we've never heard of cell mediation before?" The guy sitting next to me groans, raking his hands through his perfectly styled brown hair. He's classically handsome, with green eyes that twinkle warmly with a hint of mischief.

"Tell me about it. We've been here so long I think every cell in my body has regenerated." Mystery neighbor snorts at my mediocre joke, and I’m a fan already.

"I'm Brent," he says congenially.

"Olivia," I whisper.

"We're having a party Friday. You and your friends should come."

"I'll consider it if I haven't died of boredom yet."

We make it out relatively unscathed. My second class isn't much more stimulating. Professor Adams’ Calculus I class is considerably less dry than Professor Halloway’s, which is really saying something. Anatomy and Physiology is my last class of the day, and I'm fairly certain I'm going to gouge my eyeballs out before the day is over. The lecture hall has already filled up by the time I make my way to the Caldwell building. I spot Mia, and she gives me a friendly smile as I pull the chair out.

"Thank God. I've been so fucking bored all day." I take my seat, relieved to be with her.

"I'm glad it wasn't just me. If the semester stays this slow, I'm going to need to sneak a flask in my bag," she says as she scours the room. She gestures to a blond guy wearing a leather jacket, which piques my interest.

“Do you know him?”

“Nathan Bryne,” Mia responds. The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place why. Everyone opens their tablets and laptops, preparing to take notes. Per my dad, the professor I ended up with for Anatomy and Physiology is rigorous. I pull my laptop from my tote and hear footsteps from the right of me.

My blood instantly heats when I sit up and regard the attractive man standing at the head of the classroom. I guess my dad failed to mention that the guy was straight off of the runway or that I would want to eat dinner off of the abdominal muscles undoubtedly lying underneath that tight shirt. Fuck that, I want to eat him for dinner. Holy fuck, is this guy even real?

"Well, fuck me. The semester just got more interesting," I deadpan into Mia's ear.

Mia gives him a once over and hums her approval. His dark brown hair is slightly messy, with a few wisps out of place. He's dressed somewhere between an aristocratic professor and a hipster. Between his outfit and the messy hair, he looks like he just rolled out of bed after a long night of fucking to teach a group of twenty-year-olds where their patella is.

The minimal experience I have with sex feels one-sided and disappointing. It's never resulted in an orgasm for me. Having sex with Julian was like serving as his personal sex doll. I was inanimate to him. He never once put my pleasure in front of his own. That's never dampened my libido, fortunately. One glance at this professor and his silent command over the class makes me fairly certain I wouldn't have the same experience if I were with him. Damn if he doesn't make me want to risk it all immediately.

Rich, dark brown eyes scan the lecture hall, and I feel like I'm somewhere far off, drowning in pools of liquid gold. He stands at the podium, stoic, and an unreadable expression set on his handsome face. It's a fleeting moment, but it feels like heartbeats when he meets my gaze, and I'm sure I stop breathing. He studies me curiously. His head tilts like he knows me from somewhere, but can't place me. It's innocent enough, but I feel like he's laid me bare and now knows every secret I've ever kept, every promise I've ever broken, every filthy fantasy that I've ever had or read about. The air comes back to my lungs and my blood resumes circulating as he turns his attention to the rest of the class. His tongue licks his bottom lip as he speaks. I involuntarily mirror the action, imagining our mouths crashing together in a fury.

"Welcome to Anatomy and Physiology 101. I'm Dr. Tomas DeLuca. Hopefully, there will be engaging conversation throughout the semester. Now, I understand that this class may underwhelm you, but as you know, it's the fundamental building block for your pre-med curriculum. I hope you engage critically throughout the semester and get all that you intend out of it."

I purse my lips and try to suppress my smile. If only he realized that two minutes in, I'm certain he is what I want to get out of this class. More specifically, him out of those fucking gray dress pants. I stifle an involuntary laugh into Mia's shoulder, and just when I think it could pass as a sneeze, he pauses, bringing an intense stare to my face. The scrutiny, coupled with the intruding thought of him fucking me within an inch of my life, makes the battle of controlling my twitching lips extremely challenging. His chestnut eyebrows knit and he scowls.

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