Page 9 of His Promise

“I was supposed to take this course last year, but it was full.” A pretty blonde wags her eyebrows at the girl next to her. “I don’t mind too much, though. Gage is a tough TA, but he’s gorgeous, and once you learn his rules, he’s not so bad …”

Could they be talking aboutmyGage? He’s a finance grad student and a TA …

The girl next to her giggles and agrees about how hot he is, like we’re all still in high school. These girls are clearly older than me, probably juniors or seniors. I can’t exactly disagree about his looks, but I frown as I’m hit with a wave of jealousy and possessiveness at the thought of these girls throwing themselves at him.

“He kind of seems like an ass,” a third girl chimes in. “He’s the TA for my nine o’clock seminar, too. The entire hour, he sat at the front of the lecture hall and just glared at us. Didn’t say a word.”

The first girl shrugs. “He’s probably a little checked out since he’s about to graduate and go on to be a millionaire business mogul.” It’s clear she’s the head of his fan club, and I struggle to keep my mouth shut.

Suddenly, movement at the front of the hall catches my attention, and I look up to see Gage entering the hall and carrying a stack of papers which he passes to the professor as she starts her lecture. The conversation I’d just overheard finally sinks in. Gage is a TA. Gage ismyTA.

As if he’s got a sixth sense for my presence, Gage’s eyes catch mine and our gazes lock, freezing me to my seat. An emotion that looks like anger crosses his face as he stares me down, pinning me in place with his eyes. In my peripheral vision, I can see the girls in front of me look from Gage to me and back curiously, but they don’t say a word.

Finally, I manage to break free of his stare. I gaze down at my desk for the rest of class, frantically trying to decide what to do. Is he mad at me for leaving without saying goodbye? Should I try to talk to him after class? What will this mean for me? Will I have todropthis class? Questions race through my mind in a never-ending loop, and I barely hear the professor when she dismisses the class.

Sensing a presence at my shoulder, I look up to see Gage standing over me, expression hard and indecipherable. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asks quietly.

Yes, please, that’s the only thing I want.Well, it’s not the only thing; I want to have him in my life while also succeeding at my studies. But no, I cannot go somewhere quiet and secluded to talk to Gage, because I’ll throw myself at him, and compromise the dreams we both have for ourselves. I jerk away and shake my head, then grab my things and rush for the door.

I spend the rest of the morning wondering desperately what he’d wanted to say to me before I’d panicked and ran.

Chapter 8

Gage

Why didn’t she wake me up before she left?

Why do I even care?

I can’t keep lying to myself. I know why. We’d spent an amazing weekend together, getting to know one another in and out of bed. Maci is everything I’d never dared hope for. She’s sexy and smart, driven and determined. At some point over the weekend, I’d made up my mind that Maci was mine—I wasn’t letting her go. But then she left before I had the chance to tell her how I felt, taking all her things with her. It’s like she’d never been there, and the thought hurt me more than I thought possible.

Then I’d found her planner kicked halfway under the couch.

I’d opened it to see if she had her course schedule written down, hoping I’d be able to find her later. What I’d found instead was a list of goals, mostly innocent things like studying in the evenings and exercising. But one goal on her list stuck out from the rest. Losing her virginity.

Was that what our weekend had been about for her? Completing some goal for her freshman year?

The thought had me seeing red. Hours later, when I’d walked into the lecture hall and locked eyes on Maci, I’d still been furious, but the sight of her soothed an itch in me that I hadn’t realized I’d been feeling.

Then she’d run away from me.

It’s been a long time since I thought about trying to date someone, since normally I’m consumed with my schoolwork and busy with my jobs. Nothing is different; in fact, it’s worse. She’s a student in one of my courses. There are rules against relationships between TAs and their students, so why can’t I stop thinking about her?

I need to talk to her. No, I need to get my shit together, and get my grades up so that I can make sure my summer internship turns into a full-time job after graduation. I don’t have time for a relationship. I should be angry that she used me and distracted me.

But as angry as I am, I still can’t get her off my mind. I can still feel her soft skin, smell her apple shampoo scent, taste her pussy on my tongue. God, my cock gets hard as I sit through yet another lecture, and I’m grateful for the desk I’m hidden behind, otherwise the entire lecture hall would have a front row seat to the effect Maci has on me whenever I remember sinking into her tight, virgin hole or the way she gave everything to me.

If only she wasn’t also interesting and fun to be around. Every time one of my professors says something insightful, I want to share it with her, knowing she’ll hang on to every word. I want to tell her how difficult, but engaging, my internship is, how much I want to work for the company.

Later that afternoon, I see her in the cafeteria, as beautiful as ever in a green sundress, carrying her tray to an empty table. Normally, I just get my meal and head back to my office, but I’m not missing another chance at talking to Maci. This time, she’s going to listen.

I catch up to Maci and take her tray out of her hands, fighting back a smile at her look of shock. “Come with me,” I say.

She huffs in annoyance, but I don’t give her the chance to respond before heading for a secluded table in the far corner.

I sit down, but she stands awkwardly at the side of the table, ringing her fingers. I take her hand and tug her down next to me. It doesn’t take much, and I see a hint of a smile on her face as she sits close enough for our thighs to touch.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks, taking a bite of her lunch and refusing to look at me.

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