Page 108 of Speak

But I can be nice.

“I… ordered that book we were reading at your lake house. It’s… interesting to say the least.”

She looks hungry, and confused, those dark eyebrows of hers come together and her eyes meet mine for once and my heart pounds wildly in my chest, a small victory but mine, nonetheless. Then she simply nods once as if bored with me.

I almost growl.

Okay...shades of purple. Lilac. Indigo. Lavender...

“I worried about you. I’ve never worried for someone before, Siren… what are you doing to me? Hmm?” I lower my head and let my tongue taste, my teeth bite, and my fingers linger, tracing loose circles closer to her-

I don’t hear the student approaching but she does. Raven shoves me away and takes a step to the side, probably just saved my career in the process. She could have let me be seen, had every reason after what's transpired between us, and yet how dare we be interrupted?

“Oh! Professor Harrington, you’re still here, good. I had a few questions about the debate?”

“It’s a debate, Kinsley.” I growl. Stupid, vapid girl.

Kinsley's eyes bounce between me and Raven, and something like disgust mars her face, spouting vicious shit that shows her true colors. Disgusting.

Raven takes a step toward her, extending her arm as though she's going rip Kinsley’s hair. I decide I won’t stop her. Kinsley’s eyes widen, and instead of ripping her hair out like I want her to, Raven grabs a book from behind her and simply leaves, with a smirk on that gorgeous face. Just like that, she moves with a grace so fine, as though nothing bothers her… but shelikedinstilling the fear in Kinsley. I felt it.

I want to follow. I want to go where she’s going. I want to give her my own notes on her assignment, even though she doesn’t need them, with her irritating effortless A's. I call after her. “Raven, I-"

“She’s a lost cause, professor. Even her brother thinks so. Anyway, about this Charles character-"

"He's a convicted murderer."

"Right." She steps into my line of sight but I cross over to the railing in time to watch Raven get on her tiptoes to kiss the golden boy with a smile on her face. I realize now just how easily we could have been caught. Had we not been between the shelves, or even just a few steps more to the left, anyone could have seen my hands hiking her skirt up, lost in a trance.

"Kinsley, for fucks sake. Just do your goddamn research and leave me alone I'm not interested. I haven't been for the last three semesters, put your tits away, pull your skirt down and quit embarrassing yourself. You're not my type. You've never been my type and your pathetic attempts to seduce me are just that.Pathetic. It's old. Stop. Have some dignity."

It's true. If she hadn’t taken my class for three semesters in a row, she would have just been another face in the sea of students. Bland and incapable of standing out. Another blank Barbie lost to a sea of plastic and silicone; molded to perfection for her perfect future husband and breed more elites like a prized mare.

Yet I wantmyBarbie. The one discarded and left for dead with scars. The doll that’s been drawn on and has eyes that have seen too much, a brain that knows too much, a soul that bleeds too much and a heart that just. Kept. Beating. When it should have stopped.

Kinsley’s cheeks turn pink. "First of all-"

I walk away.

When I get home, I change into something more comfortable, ignore the homework turned in to resume my courses in ASL, and then, before the sun sets, go on a run. I ignore the lighthouse, the eeriness of the lake shrouded in darkness only to see Raven's house lit up on the lower level on the way back. I run up to the back gate, turning away when I see her on the kitchen counter, breasts out, her head thrown back and Jonas pops up from between her thighs, kissing her before slipping into her.

I turn away and head home.

An hour later, I hear the sound of an engine, then footsteps along the loose gravel. When I get to the window to see if I can spot anyone, they're already gone. I shrug. I guess they live around here.

______

I dream of the scent of berries and cinnamon, of pomegranates, chocolate tresses, eyes like caramel, soft skin and silky, pillowy thighs, parted lips, silent gasps, faint breathy sighs and a mind-altering kiss that tastes like strawberries, mint and coffee.

Memories. I cling to nothing but memories.

It’s maddening.

I wake up to my alarm blaring, telling me, a grown man in his mid-thirties, that I’m late for school. Well, not late, late. I just don’t have time for my morning run and it sours my mood.

Routine. Discipline.

Silent gasps, faint breathy sighs.

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