Page 22 of Fall From Grace
Pouting? Why I oughta…
I grind my jaw and flip my head in his direction, meeting his green eyes. “I’m not pouting.”
Those pretty eyes of his fall, though where they fall, I don’t know. My lips, my chin, my collarbone; somewhere below my nose. “See, you say that, but I just don’t hear the heart behind it. You’re definitely still pouting about that ex of yours—”
I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can you please not bring him up?”
“Hmm. How about you come home with me and you can help me keep my mouth occupied with something else?”
“Is that all you want, sex?” I have to say the last word quietly, not wanting anyone around us to hear.
“That’s what you wanted last week. Why is it so wrong if that’s all I want?”
“It’s not,” I whisper, “but I’m not… that’s not me. What happened last week won’t happen again. It’s not what I want. I—” I swallow. “—you helped, but I don’t need your help again.” With a quick glance at the clock, I see that we have ten minutes before class begins, and I can’t help but wonder if Logan got here earlier so he could talk to me.
Ugh, why?
Logan is quiet for a while, but eventually he whispers, “When you said… you said you wanted to know what it was like. You meant going home with a stranger, right? You didn’t mean—” When I glance at him, it must be written on my face, because he frowns at me and says, “Shit. No wonder your ex cheated on you. Four years with no sex? I sure as fuck couldn’t do it—”
I do my best to tune him out, and I tune him out by standing and declaring, “I need to pee.” It shuts him up well enough as I hurry up the steps and out of the auditorium. I leave all my things, so he knows I’m not abandoning the class—I wouldn’t put it past him to come after me again. Telling him I’m going to the restroom is the only way I could think of to make him not follow me.
I don’t go to the restroom, though. I stop the moment I make it out into the hall, and I go to lean on the wall next to the auditorium door. Leaning my head back, I close my eyes.
Of course he’d say that. He’s a guy, a guy who obviously likes to have sex and hookup with anybody he can. Yes, sex could apparently be mind-blowing, but… but sex isn’t life. Sex shouldn’t be the ultimate factor whether you want to be with someone or not. Maybe that’s a naive view.
“You all right—Wren, is it?” A masculine voice pulls me back to reality, and when I open my eyes and lower my chin, I see Professor Scott standing before me, a bag strung over his wide shoulders. He studies me with concern on his handsome face.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.” I let my gaze fall to our feet. He stands two feet away from me, but even then, his feet are so much bigger than mine—but what else would you expect from a guy that’s so tall? I think, standing at my straightest, I reach his chest.
The smile he gives me is carried by the dimples on his clean-shaven cheeks. “Once more, with feeling.”
“What?”
He chuckles. “I mean, try saying it again, more believable this time. You’re obviously not fine. Something’s bothering you. If you don’t want the world to know it, you have to try a little harder than that.”
Advice about faking it from my psychology professor? I don’t know whether to laugh or not.
Other students slip past us, going into the auditorium, paying us no mind. I say, “Oh. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Dreading my class that much? I told you I’m not a hard-ass.”
For some strange reason, heat creeps up my cheeks. “That’s not…”
The smile he gives me is dazzling, and ridiculously handsome. It actually makes me weak at the knees, as silly as it is. “I figured it wasn’t. You seem like the kind of student who never misses a single class. I bet you always pay attention, too—that’ll come in handy. At least I know when I’m up there lecturing, I’ll have you enraptured.”
I chuckle softly, and he says, “There’s a smile. I knew eventually it’d have to surface.” He grabs the strap on his shoulder and adjusts it. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you inside. Whatever’s bothering you, I hope my lecture helps.” He gives me one last grin before turning away from me, and I watch him disappear into the auditorium.
Focusing on him might be the only way I can get through this class. Ignore Logan and put all of my attention on the professor, who just happens to be one of the most attractive men I’ve ever laid eyes on in my life. Should be easy.
I let out a slow breath, gathering myself. I need to not let Logan get to me.
Holding my head high, I return to my seat, slipping in it carefully so as to avoid Logan’s outstretched legs. The jerk thinks since he’s got long legs he can spread them anywhere he wants. I meet eyes with Professor Scott as he unpacks his things at the podium, and he sends another smile my way.
Logan sounds slightly annoyed, “You know—”
I keep my cool when I glance at the miffed guy beside me. He seems totally fine dredging up what I said, something that’s clearly a sore subject for me, so I decide to use the last few minutes before class starts to talk about something else: “I saw your room of guitars. You play?”
It’s funny. He’s so used to pressing my buttons that he isn’t used to anybody pressing his. The expression on his face changes, darkening as he scowls at me, suddenly grumpy. “No. I just like to collect them like fucking sports cards.” His voice has an edge to it, like I’ve touched on something he’d rather not talk about.
