Page 8 of Damaged Professor

“There’s no hurry.” I grab her cup to fill it again, but she raises her hand to stop me. “You could stay for lunch.”

There is a faint smile as she stands up and straightens her top. Her hair is still damp and messy. I run my hand through it, untangling some of her locks. Her lips part, a heavy breath escaping from them. I lean down without thinking. I’ve barely tasted her when her phone dings, pulling us apart. She grabs it from her back pocket, stares at the screen, and with a sigh puts it back again. “Nichole is looking for me. I should get going.”

She takes a step back. There is an awkwardness in the moment, so different from our morning so far. She wants to stay too; I can feel it. All I need to do is ask once more. Tell her that I’d like to spend the day together. Or that I want to see her again. I could ask that.

I should ask that.

But the words don’t get out of my mouth and the awkwardness grows.

“I’ll call Jeremy,” I tell her instead. I should play by the rules I’ve made.

“What?” Her eyes widen. “Who’s— Why?”

“My driver,” I explain. “I’ll call him—He’ll take you home.”

"Oh, no need for that." She's more relaxed now that she knows where this is going, she pats my arm. “I’ll just call a cab.” She walks past me, her movements faster. With one last look at the map on the wall, she turns around and gives me a peck on the cheek, next to the corner of my mouth.

“I had a great time.”

“Me too.” I grab her again, my hands resting at the small of her back as I pull her closer to me. I kiss her again until we are both out of breath. I want to devour her. I lean in again, this time kissing and sucking her neck. She moans and I know that if I don’t stop now, we’ll end up back on the bed. Or the couch. I pull away, I'm hard already. She presses her hands on her bright red cheeks and giggles. Then, as if dancing, she opens the door. The sun shines bright and warm despite the cold weather.

“Goodbye, Dylan.”

“Bye, Abby.”

I close the door behind her, knowing that it’s over. I don’t know anything about her, I have no way to contact her even if I want to. It’s for the best. She’s too young for me anyway. Even if I’d asked her out, what would we have to talk about?

I plunge on the couch and look at the painting and prints around me. Art probably. Or history. Or anything else, just like we did this morning. Nothing about our conversation felt unnatural or forced—until we had to part. Even her admiration for the paintings seemed genuine. Every single guest who has commented on them has focused on their worth. She didn’t seem to care about that aspect at all.

Maybe I did make a mistake letting her go without—

A light knock on the door interrupts my self-pity. A knot springs up in my stomach. Maybe she changed her mind about the cab. Or lunch.

I open the door, a silly smile plastered on my face.

“I knew you’d be happy to see me.” My brother announces as he barges inside, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a peak of a tattoo beneath one of his rolled-up sleeves, but the fabric is down too far to get anything more than a little glimpse of it.

“Ashton?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice.

Ashton is older than I am by two years, though you wouldn’t guess it by looking at him. He has a black and red flannel on, with the sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbows. His wrist is boasting a gold Rolex from his watch collection.

There’s something about the cut of his jaw that girls have always loved; Ashton was famous for stealing girlfriends from me when we were growing up. And he’s got that personality people just love to be around; big and bold and enticing.

“I saw your calls and thought—I might as well come see you in person.”

“Since when do you feel the need to justify yourself?” His surprise appearance is not helping my mood. I shut the door behind him.

“Justify?” His eyes widen in his sudden realization that he stood me up last night. “Oh, that was yesterday?” He takes out his phone and checks his calendar. His frown grows before he nods. “Yeah, I didn’t put that in my calendar. Sorry bro.”

He sits on the couch and throws a bunch of papers on the coffee table.

I sit across from him, my mood getting worse by the second. “So, what’s going on? First, you flake on me, and now you're here for a surprise visit.”

He tilts his head as if looking at me for the first time. “You're a bit pale. Don’t you ever get out of that classroom?”

“Classes haven’t started yet” I say dryly. “What do you want, Ashton?”

He nods. “Alright, alright. Look. It’s about the Party.”

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