He was the holy trifecta of funny, sweet, and smart.
I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone, including the celebrity crushes I’d had as a preteen.
But Jack Wilde was off-limits.
Or he had been. Now he simply hated me.
I’d done everything I could to avoid him. It had been neither professional nor pretty. I’d avoided eye contact in class. I’d resisted calling on him for fear I would be seen playing favorites. And I’d written the shitty recommendation that had cost him his dream placement on the Raintree expedition.
No wonder the very sight of me had made him choke.
I moved up onto the bed next to him and put my arm around him, pulling him into my chest. How did I explain all of this? How did I even begin to apologize?
His voice was muffled at first until I realized I was holding him too tightly. “What?” I asked.
“I was trying to focus on the tennis racquet.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, meaning it more genuinely than anything I’d ever said to another human being. “I… I need to explain.”
Jack’s breathing was finally slowing down, and the fact he could make a complete sentence was a very good sign.
“It’s fine,” he said. “I’m feeling better anyway.”
He tried to pull out of my embrace, but I tightened my arms without thinking. “Don’t.”
Jack lifted his face to me. His eyes were red-rimmed but still bright and beautiful. The tip of his nose was pink from being pressed against my shirt. “I’m okay,” he said again. As if that was the only reason I was holding him.
“I’m not,” I admitted softly.
Jack studied me for a minute before snuggling into my chest again and returning the hug. We stayed like that for a long time, holding each other without a word of explanation or understanding.
Except… except I did understand. I understood why he needed this. Why he needed comfort.
One of his professors had screwed him over by denying him a spot on the research expedition he’d so desperately wanted.
I pulled away from him and moved to squat in front of him again so I could see his face. He looked surprised and confused but didn’t say anything. I wondered if he was scared or hurt or angry.
Without thinking, I took both of his hands in mine, which only seemed to make his shock more intense. His eyes were almost comically wide.
“I need to tell you something,” I said, scraping my teeth over my lip. “And I couldn’t tell you before now because I was your professor, and also the university was trying hard to keep it under wraps.”
Jack blinked, his inky lashes still wet from tears. “What… what is it?”
“It’s about your research,” I began.
Jack’s nostrils widened, and his lips pursed. “Oh.”
“No, wait,” I said quickly, trying to think.Just spit it out, asshole.“It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because I think you fucked me over by sabotaging my application.”
He could see the truth on my face because he yanked his hands out of mine.
“Jack,” I said. “I did. But let me explain.”
He pushed me until I rocked back on my heels and hit the ground on my ass. Clearly, he wanted to get away from me. Instead of following him over to the large window, I rested against the dresser and waited.
“Go on,” he said after a minute. He didn’t turn to face me. Instead, he looked out the window as if the Houston skyline had something interesting to offer.