Page 25 of Don't Fall

“Thanks.” I bypass a snide comment about the thrills I get from being re-gifted her rejected leftovers. I’m hungry. And I like jelly donuts.

“How was Sex 101 with Professor Michael this morning?” She’s smirking. I bet she’s been waiting to ask me that since last Monday.

“Hot.”

“I bet.” She giggles, her dirty giggle. I usually only hear it through a wall when she’s doing the nasty with Scott. Or about to. It’s not any less uncomfortable when she’s right here. And Scott’s not.

“I’m serious, Drea. I think I’m in lust with him. Which I know is all wrong and I remind myself plenty, but then he looks at me...or he smiles and it’s like my insides are getting a steam treatment and all I want to do is strip naked.” I bury my face in my palms in an attempt to hide all evidence of my humiliation. Putting it into words was sort of my last resort to convincing myself this lingering feeling in the back of my mind was just a figment of my imagination. That this absurd concept of falling for my professor was just an elaborate torturous joke my grieving mind conjured up in an effort to distract me, and I’d secretly hoped that hearing it out loud would evoke hysterical laughter from the depths of my being. Raucous laughter, the kind that shakes your belly and makes your face hurt, because it’s just that funny. Only I’m not laughing. I’m not even grinning. It’s not funny at all. It’s worse. It’s true. I’m attracted to him. In a really big, really potentially disastrous way.

Drea, of course, is busting at the seams. “Girl, we need to get you some action.”

For one horrific moment I think she means with him. Then she elaborates, “Scott and his boys are going out tonight. Let’s crash. I know you think most of his friends are douchebags, but if you avoid conversation at all cost, I’m sure you can find one in the bunch who’s equipped to help you take the lusty edge off.”

I cringe a little and shove the rest of the donut into my mouth. “Drea, you know I can’t do that,” I say, the words muffled by deep-fried dough and strawberry jam.

“I know you’re going to start dry humping everything with a penis if you don’t go sit on one soon. Seriously, Tessa. When’s the last time you got laid?”

It pains me to have to think about this. Because I actually have to think about this.

“Jereme Winters.”

Drea gapes at me. “Jereme pierced-brow Winters? That was over a year ago!”

I wince. “I know! And why does every guy have to come with a title with you? Jereme pierced-brow Winters? Hot New Neighbor Michael? What do you call Scott when you’re talking to people who don’t know him? Scott Stupidhead Stanton?”

She grins. “Close. It’s Scott he’s-a-stupid-ass-but-I-love-him Stanton.” Then she shoves me. “Are you done deflecting? Can we get back to talking about your orgasm deprived hoo-ha now?”

“Who said it was orgasm deprived?”

“Well, there’s the silver lining. I’m glad to hear you’re at least tending to your own garden if you won’t let anyone else come along and plow through it.”

I almost choke. And I swallowed my donut ages ago. “There’s a visual.”

“Good. Now keep that in mind until about nine p.m.” She makes to get up again.

“Why? What’s at nine p.m.?”

Drea dusts off her pants from where she was sitting on the ground. “That’s when Scott and the boys are meeting up at the Basement.”

I groan. “The Basement? Drea, I’m there four nights a week. I really don’t want to be stuck there if I’m not even going to get paid.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about getting paid, honey. I’ll see to it that you hit the motherfucking jackpot before the night is up.” She winks and skips off before I can protest any further.

I glance at the clock on my phone and sigh. I’ve got another thirty minutes to kill. I sit back and lean against the tree trunk behind me, an uncomfortable lead-ish feeling spreading through my body as I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I hate being set up. I hate not having sex too. Mostly I hate that neither are even issues I have time to contemplate. I have bigger fish to fry. Meredith for one. If Lane’s lease is any indication of what’s to come, I hardly think she’s giving up the condo without a fight. Even if it was what Aunt Edi wanted. The continuously sinking feeling in my gut says her lack of calls is nothing but a quiet before the storm. Until it passes through, sex and all the other trivial crap my twenty-two-year-old self should have the luxury of fussing over will just have to wait.

“This seat taken?”

It’s him. Again.

“I have a feeling it’s about to be.”

He chuckles. “If you’d rather I didn’t, I won’t join you.”

“Since when?”

He drops down into a squat beside me. “Good point. So, wanna tell Dr. Mike what’s bothering you?”

“Not really.”

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