Page 11 of Lessons in Desire

A part of me wants to open up, to tell him, to share with him, the fear I hold within me. The fear I’ve not even discussed with Bree. The fear that no matter how hard I try, the impulsive part of me, the part that whispers do it, I dare you, to things that aren’t part of my carefully crafted plan, will win. That one day, I’ll end up in the exact same place as the people who raised me. I want to tell him about it, to hand him my fear and let him keep it safe.

And that terrifies me.

“Anyway,” I say brightly pushing away all thoughts of fear and changing the topic. “I’m excited for the next class; you know the first one that isn’t filled with introductory bullshit.”

Asher smiles but there’s something in it that tells me he’s desperate to push for me. To give me the space to talk but after a second, it’s gone, smoothed out into something easy. “Yea, just wait until we’re in my office until ten pm grading papers, that’s when the fun really starts.”

He’s teasing me, but something heats at my core at the thought of all those late nights I’ll have with him, alone in his office, no one else around. I bite my lip and his eyes flicker down, something dark and heated flashing in the gold flecks before they jerk back to the road, his jaw clenching. God, he must see the desire plain on my face and its made him … angry.

I play with the edge of my dress as the silence turns stifling. Luckily, we turn into a driveway a moment later and all thoughts of awkward tension and desire drift away as laughter bubbles out of me. He glances over at me, parking up, a question on his lips.

I shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just shocked that this is where you live.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just this—” I point at the house. “Looks like something a suburb mom would buy, not a man with a passion for art and architecture.”

It’s a two-story lemon painted house with white windows and a wraparound porch to match. It just looks so … ordinary.

He frowns. “I had slim pickings.” He says, his tone defensive.

“Yea, clearly.” I giggle. “Sorry, it’s … it’s cute.”

He shakes his head. “You know, I’d call you a brat, but I had the same reaction when I saw it. It does have one redeeming factor.”

“Yea?”

“Location.” He pulls out of the car, walking to my side to help me out. “It’s isolated and the garden leads off to a meadow that no one uses. It’s like owning a forest.” He leads me inside, seating me on a worn leather couch just as a knock on the door sounds. “That’s Cameron, my brother.”

As he disappears to retrieve him, I take in the room. The outside may not look like something he would choose, but the inside does. Art hangs around the room is wooden frames carved of oak, expensive looking and built for the best protection it can afford. Every piece of furniture is woodsy and masculine and so dark that the canvasses pop against them.

Asher rounds the corner and I feel a flush hit my cheeks, like my body is unable to help itself, like it has to respond when he’s near. Behind him, is his brother. He’s got the same dark hair, the same full lips, the same slope of his nose, but my body doesn’t pull towards him the way it does with Asher’s.

“Cameron, this is Evelyn, my TA. Evelyn, this is Cameron, my brother.” Asher says, introducing us.

I smile. “Thank you for coming out so late.”

Cameron nods, his blue eyes flickering between Asher and I, something stern in the line of his lips. “Not a problem.” He bends, opening a bag beside him. “Asher says you punched someone?”

“Yes.” I nod, wincing as he takes my hand. “It’s sore but I don’t think it’s broken.”

He hums, and goes about examining me, his eyes focused on the task. I look up to Asher who’s eyes are already trained on mine. A flutter escapes and my stomach twists. I look away. Eventually, Cameron cleans my wounds and wraps my hand up in a bandage.

“It’s not broken, just bruised and bleeding, but I would get an X-ray just in case if I were you.”

“Thank you.” I say, meaning it.

He nods, and then sends Asher a pointed look which makes me shift uncomfortably. “I need to talk to you.” He looks at me, and then away. “Privately.”

I jump up and turn to Asher. “Is it okay if I use the bathroom?”

Asher nods. “It’s around the corner.”

I leave them in private to talk, locking myself in the bathroom. After doing my business, I look up into the mirror and sigh. I look like shit. My hair is mussed, the sweat and humid heat making it frizzy and unmanageable, and my makeup is smudged, the liner darkening my eyes into something like a racoon. I blow out a breath. This was not how the night was supposed to go. At all.

I quickly wash my hands and leave the bathroom, walking silently back to the living room. That’s when the whispered hum of Cameron’s voice freezes my steps. I still, staying quiet, not wanting to disturb their conversation, which is when I hear them talking about me.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Cameron hisses. “She’s your TA.”

---