Page 33 of Better Than the Beach
“And we’re definitely coming skiing this winter,” Bailey says with a laugh. “You know the guys want to break their necks on some snowboards.”
Bailey’s referring to her boyfriend, Ivy’s boyfriend, and their other friend, Jesse. My chest aches. I miss them, but I swallow down my doubts. I might be over 1,000 miles from everyone I know and love, but this is where I’m meant to be.
Enrolling in the Masters of Music Therapy program at Colorado State University wasn’t my first choice, but they were the only one that offered me a scholarship and didn’t require me to retake electives. With my parents no longer helping financially, I couldn’t turn it down.
I still get sick when I think of how close I am to Golden, though. The urge to drive down there, just to scope things out, is strong.
But I won’t do it.
Nolan made it clear what he wanted from me when he ghosted me, and that is absolutely nothing. I waited for weeks for his phone call only to get radio silence. After my texts and calls to Mallory went unanswered, I gave up. I was heartbroken, even though I knew I had no right to be. Ivy and Bailey did a pretty good job of trying to keep me occupied in the weeks after I got back from Hawaii, and soon enough the chaos of the spring semester took over, and I didn’t have the time or energy to let myself be sad.
And now? Now I’m fine.
I’m over it.
Okay, maybe I’m not over it. But I’m not heartbroken anymore. And just because I’m in the same state as Nolan Montrose doesn’t mean I’ll ever have to see him again.
I say goodbye to Ivy and Bailey, then head to campus. Today is the first day of classes, and I’m brimming with excitement. After that game night with my friends, I decided to take Nolan’s advice and “shuffle the deck” when it came to my future. I started researching music therapy programs and applied to a few. I figured if I didn’t get accepted, no one but me, Ivy, and Bailey would have to know, and I would take it as a sign that being a history teacher was what I was meant to do.
But I did get accepted.
To more than one.
And now I’m here at Colorado State University in Fort Collins, Colorado, about to take my first class in the curriculum to become a music therapist. I can hardly believe this is my life.
I step into the small auditorium and take a seat in the third row. Close enough to the front that I can be fully present, but far enough back that I don’t look like a kiss ass. I take out my tablet and scroll through the syllabus. It’s an upper-level psychology class focusing on the psychology of gender in cultural context, and I am so pumped. I looked the professor up online and she’s supposed to be kind of a hard ass, and even that excites me. I just...god, it feels so good to be thrilled about the future. To be pursuing my passion, just like Nolan said I should...
I shake my head.
This isn’t about him. He was just a guy. We had sex, had some fun, and then it ended. A whirlwind holiday romance for the books. I sigh. I will not let myself fall into what-ifs. Not again.
The auditorium starts to fill up, and when the door at the front opens, my eyes bounce up to get a good look at Professor Antonetta Aloise-Young. I couldn’t find a good picture online. I only know that she’s in her fifties and she’s a freaking boss. Instead of seeing a woman in her fifties, though, a man walks in. A tall man with broad shoulders, dark brown hair, and a thick beard on a strong jaw, accentuating plump, kissable lips. And though I’m not close enough to see them right now, I know his eyes are a hazel green. I also know that the body beneath his shirt and tie is sculpted and smooth. His hands are magic, his tongue is—
I can’t breathe.
I’m just gaping as he drops a leather briefcase on the desk and greets us. His voice is exactly as I remember.
“Good morning,” he says. “I’m assistant Professor Montrose. I’ll be working with Professor Aloise-Young this semester. She and I have split the sections in half, and I will—”
He stops short when his eyes fall on me. It feels like hours that we stare at each other, but he must recover quickly, because no one else seems to notice. I did, though, and I can’t pay attention for the rest of the lecture. I avert my eyes and stare blankly at my tablet until the people around me start to leave.
“Ms. Larsen,” Nolan’s voice booms, “I’d like to see you for a moment, please.”
When I glance up, he’s leaning on the desk, arms crossed, face a stern mask. His eyes are on me, and like before, I can feel him everywhere. I put my stuff in my bag, stand, and walk slowly toward him. For a moment, we just stare at each other.
“I think we should go to admissions and get your courses transferred,” he begins, and I narrow my eyes at him. “We should probably talk to the psychology dean, too, and disclose the nature of our relationship.”
I shake my head. “What? Why?”
When he raises an eyebrow at me, my jaw drops. I scoff, offended by what I think he’s implying. When I respond, I keep my voice hushed, but there’s no hiding the emotion in my tone.
“You think I can’t handle myself? I’ll be fine,Professor. You don’t have to worry about me.” I hitch my bag on my shoulder and turn to leave, but he grabs my arm and halts me.
“You will not leave, Cassandra,” he commands, and despite my anger, my belly clenches with desire.
“I will,” I grind out. “You don’t have to worry. I won’t make a scene. I won’t tell anyone. Pretend like you don’t know me just like you have for the last eight months.”
“You’re angry,” he states, and when I look at him, I’m pissed to find a small smirk on his lips.
