Page 75 of Electric Touch

Later, I sit on the back porch with my guitar as the sun descends. Dec might have brought me out here to get away from shit, but I would not leave my guitar behind. I strum a melody that has been living in my head for a few weeks now.

Adrestia won’t let anyone walk all over her. I’ve been a prick. I need to earn her trust back. If I want to take it any further.

Setting the guitar down, I pick up my phone. I don’t know if this will work. I’m sure he wants to knock me the fuck out if he sees me again, but I’m banking on him thinking I’m serious by reaching out to him. After sending the text to Apollo, I pick the guitar back up. I don’t play, just rest it on my thighs, watching the sun set.

Declan leaves me alone. We’ve had enough touchy feely shit to last us at least five years. No more heart to hearts will be happening this weekend.

My phone rings, startling me out of my thoughts. I run a hand over my hair as I answer.

“Why should I help you?”

“Because I want to do something for her.”

“She hasn’t mentioned you once.”

That stings, but shit, I deserve it. Doesn’t mean she hasn’t been thinking about me too. I have to believe that. I will not suck up to Apollo. I will not apologise to him or beg his forgiveness. It’s not his I need.

“You’re a persistent fucker. You pull any more shit, or your friends do. I’ll be all over your ass.”

“Fair.”

He pauses. “I’m not telling you shit about her, but there is one thing you can do. If you’re serious.”

“I am.”

“A helicopter ride,” he says, sounding smug as shit.

My brows lift. I’m not surprised this is on her list of things to do. I may be a rockstar but I’m not sure I can ask for and get a helicopter. I have no clue how much it costs, but fuck, I’m going to try.

“Good luck with that.” Apollo hangs up on me.

I used to think he was an asshole, but I see things differently now. He has every right to protect Adrestia. They give a shit about each other.

I head inside the house. Declan is sprawled across the sofa watching an episode of Yellowstone.

“Hey, Dec?” He peers over at me. “How would I go about getting a helicopter?”

Chapter Twenty-One

The past two weeks have been a frenzy of getting everything ready for the start of the new semester. Together with settling in with Charlotte, my new TA, and faculty meetings. I’ve also recruited two other professors in the maths department to help work on my grant application. The math program I want to run for high school kids between their junior to senior year. It will provide opportunities for them to raise their grades to prepare for college. I want as many kids as possible to achieve their dreams of going to college. It may only be a math program, but the Dean of the University is watching with interest. If I get the grant, they could expand it into other areas.

I’ve spent the last two nights up till two AM writing the paper. It hasn’t been hard, I’m so passionate about this. I could forego food and sleep to do everything within my power to get this funding. Not just to add to my bowstrings towards tenure. I want to help kids in all walks of life fall in love with math. The way I have.

It hasn’t given me time to think about other things. Not that I’ve dwelt on what happened in the club. I’m good at suppressing feelings when I want to. It’s bothered me because I’ve forced myself not to face it. Instead, immersing myself in everything I can, so I don’t need to think about it.

I started an online tutorial to finish my guitar lessons. Ariella’s favourite song is Midnight Sky by Miley Cyrus. I expected her to say a Taylor Swift song when I asked what I should learn to play. But no, she had to go with Miley Cyrus.

So I’ve been attempting to teach myself to play that. Without the foundations Nash taught me, it would have been more difficult. So I have to thank him for that. But I’m still nowhere near where I need to be to read and play this music. It hasn’t stopped me from trying.

“Professor Kouris!” someone shouts. “Do you have a minute?”

I’ve just locked up my office. I have one last weekend before classes start and I’m as prepared as I can be. I adjust my satchel and files and turn to Helena. She is one of the admin staff at the admissions office. They’ve been working harder than me over the last few weeks for the new intake of students. She looks flustered as she approaches. I’ve got to know her well. One of her children was in my class last year.

“Sorry to bother you right before you’re leaving for the weekend.”

“No problem, Helena, and you can call me Tia,” I tell her. I’ve told her more times than I can count. She just waves that off like she always does. “How can I help?”

“This came for you. I had to make sure you got it before you leave. I was told it was important.”

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