He laid his own hand atop hers, curling her fingers into his palm. “It was enough.”
Though he’d meant well, he’d done himself no favors entering the bathroom while Lydia showered, the sensuous image now engrained in his head. He’d retreated to the living room to cool his ardor afterward. A vain task since, when she’d emerged, the shirt he’d given her had showed him more than enough. Her breasts rounded, her nipples clear through the fabric, he’d been speechless for a second. Then somehow reined himself in.
She teased him to make an impact, yet was clueless how big that impact was, and thinking on that, it was that clearness of conscience he adored the most. That same naiveté was also what gave him his greatest amount of guilt. Because if the college knew how far things had gone, he’d be the one to receive the blame.
No, she wasn’t a child. He’d told her that. But he was the teacher, the one in authority who was supposed to have a handle on this. Words that tasted sour in his mouth. He’d meant them at the time. He’d failed them completely, and worse, he would fail them again.
He didn’t know how he’d stand in front of her class and give instruction without thinking of her like this, her legs tangled with his, her lips moist on his skin. He didn’t know how he’d be able to grade her work fairly either … except to not grade it at all. And though he would hate to see her go back to the dorms tomorrow, he needed the break to think this out and make some decisions.
He had to complete his work on the curriculum, though that would remove her reason for coming. Dragging it out would look worse. He had to protect her from any fall out and guard the delicateness of the bond they’d formed, the idea this could go somewhere greater if he could just get past the awkwardness of it.
He’d told himself it wasn’t a fling. He wasn’t having an affair. He’d been around guys who had and what he felt for Lydia was so much greater than that. At the same time, no one looking in from the outside would see it that way … as they wouldn’t understand why she’d stayed with him for two nights now. They wouldn’t see it had less to do with sexual pleasure, though he’d entertained thoughts he shouldn’t, than the way she filled the hole that’d grown in his heart.
His actions over the next few weeks would either sustain what they’d formed or destroy them, and laying there, her breaths blowing across his skin, each puff added tremendous weight to his already overburdened shoulders. But he kept it to himself, as unwilling to let her go as ever.
CHAPER 8
Lydia stood on the stoop gazing in at Aarin and wanted to burst into childish tears. She didn’t, knowing it wouldn’t help either of them and, ultimately, show her as silly and weak. Those were the last things she wanted him to think of her. No, if she had to fall apart, she’d wait until after she’d left.
Leaving was a problem though. She’d gotten incredibly attached to their time together and was hard pressed to get her mind back where it needed to go. She had to return to reality somehow.
“When … when can I see you again?” she asked.
His shoulder against the door frame, he glanced past her, then dusted his fingers along her chin. “Soon. I’ll text you.” His hand fell away.
Reluctant, and not finding any other reason to delay, Lydia shuffled in reverse, halfway down the walk, spinning away from him. Climbing in her car, she set her dress and heels in the passenger seat and ran her hands down the borrowed jeans. She’d opted to wear them and the sneakers – and Aarin’s college shirt. Several sizes too large, she’d knotted it on her hip, the neckline slanting off her shoulder.
He’d noticed and stared … a lot. For that matter, he’d stared at her all during breakfast and, spur of the moment, kissed her cheek. Her hand rose over the spot, a tingle forming, and she almost missed her turn. Grasping the wheel, she exhaled. She had to relax. He’d said he’d text, and besides, she’d see him in class tomorrow.
In class. The truth pressed in, her brain circling.
“I’m dating my professor,” she said aloud. Her words hit her hard in the chest, and she gasped, tightening her grip on the wheel. She’d gone to a place students shouldn’t go and now would be forced to participate in a certain amount of subterfuge. That was the one thing they hadn’t talked about, but should have … how to behave in front of other students. Maybe he considered it a given, that she’d understand and keep things quiet.
I’ll handle it, he’d said, without saying how or what, and that left her in limbo. What exactly did he plan to do and when would he do it?
Asking herself didn’t provide the answer … or lessen the knowledge Marianne was going to expect an explanation for her absence. She wasn’t sure what she would say, except she’d decided earlier to stick as close to the truth as possible. That way, there’d be less chance of being caught in a lie.
Seeing the college dorms in the distance rammed the thought home. As nice as the weekend was, her schedule was full, and she either concentrated on her schoolwork or she’d blow everything. Aarin wouldn’t want her to do that.
She pulled into her assigned parking, taking a deep breath before getting out. Then, her dress and heels tucked beneath her arm, she pushed through the front doors and dashed across the foyer to the stairs. At the top, she took a sharp right, her thoughts on reaching her room, but collided with another girl headed in the opposite direction.
Karen backpedaled, her books smacking the tile, papers scattering, and Lydia stooped to help her gather her things, forgetting about the dress, which slipped free and fluttered to the floor.
Karen paused and reached for it. Standing again, she shook it out. “That’s lovely, and I bet looks great on you. What’s the occasion?”
“Was the occasion,” Lydia corrected, unthinking. “Went … went out Saturday.” She saw her faux pas, the moment she said it, but couldn’t back out.
“Saturday? And you’re just getting back?” Karen folded the dress and handed it to her. She then bent back down and stacked her books, pressing them against her chest as she rose. “Where’d you go anyhow? To wear that, you’d be somewhere fancy and no way would you put that on to go alone. But …” Her brow wrinkled. “You didn’t like Scott, so it wasn’t him ….”
In her next breath, Karen’s gaze spun wide, and she sucked in a breath. Wrapping one hand around Lydia’s wrist, she dragged her three doors down and shoved her inside a dorm room. “Spill … You went out with Mr. Kai? Like out-out? And …” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Overnight,” she said.
“Shh …” Lydia hiss, her cheeks heating. “D-don’t … It’s not that b-big of a deal …”
“It’s a huge deal.”
“No.” Lydia raised her voice. “He … he was getting an award and wasn’t going to go.”
“So he took you?”
Lydia hushed. She’d already said too much. But Karen wasn’t finished, more pieces evidently falling into place.
“Saturday,” she breathed. “This is Monday. Two nights?”
“The ceremony wasn’t near here. We … we didn’t have a choice and …”
Karen bit her lips. “For Saturday, if I buy that. But this is Monday. Why didn’t you come home yesterday?”
Cornered, Lydia wavered. She should have known Karen would figure it out, should have prepared herself with better answers. Just the same, Karen didn’t know everything, and she wasn’t obligated to tell her.
Karen picked at the sleeve of her shirt. “That’s his, isn’t it?”
Lydia lifted her chin, her throat tight. “Nothing happened, and swear you’ll keep this to yourself.” When Karen didn’t respond, she repeated herself. “Swear it.”
Karen glanced behind her at a small bedside clock. “I’ve got to go or I’m going to be late. But, look, we’re friends, right?”
Lydia hesitated, then gave a shallow nod.
“So no one will hear a word from me. But you have to know if people find out …”
“There isn’t anything for anyone to find out,” Lydia replied, “and if there was,
it’s between me and Aarin.” She used his first name, unashamed.
Karen didn’t respond right away. Releasing a breath, she turned. “You know, I thought seeing him would be hot …” She paused, her hand on the knob. “And I know I joked about it, but it’s crazy-scary, too. I hope you know what you’re doing.” She let herself out, and the door slowly closed.
Lydia sank down on the bed. What was she doing? She shut her eyes. Not “doing”, but had already “done”. She was falling in love with him, and it was way too late to stop now.
Dumping his things on the desk, Aarin checked the time and exhaled, his thoughts splitting in a dozen directions. He sank into his chair and made a vain attempt to gather himself. He was late, had only a few minutes until his first class started. It was his own fault for wasting too much time thinking about Lydia.
Expelling a groan, he ran his hand over the back of his head and tried to drive the images of her out. Problem was, there were too many of them and those, combined with his vivid recall of her pressed against him overnight, made it difficult to think of anything else.
The students’ laughter and conversation bled through the open doorway along with the thump of books and scuffle of shoes, reminding him even further of what was at stake. At least, Lydia’s class wasn’t here today. With twenty-four hours beneath his belt, he should regain some of his composure.
A knock on the door frame raised his gaze to the eyes of fellow professor, Angela Reed. A curled newspaper in one hand, she smiled and strolled inside. “You look flustered.”
His lips pressed tight, he offered an acknowledged glance.
She took a seat facing him, crossing graceful legs. She was attractive, upper thirties, blonde hair cut short, always well-dressed, nothing out of place. He’d met her husband once at a holiday dinner two years before. Nice guy, but they’d since gotten divorced.
“I cut my time too short,” Aarin replied. “Couldn’t seem to get out of the house.”
He wondered why, staring at her, she’d come to see him at all. They both taught English, but Angela, grammar and punctuation and the like. She’d once called herself the “queen of sentence diagramming”. Personally, he hated that part of the Language Arts, but wasn’t about to say so to her face.
“Well, I won’t keep you long, but I was perusing the paper this morning …” She unfurled the piece in her hand. It appeared to be an entertainment magazine of some sort. “Not local, mind you,” she continued, “but imagine my surprise to see this ...” At that, she turned the page around and dropped it beneath his nose.
A picture of himself stared upwards, his smile posed, his award in one hand, the presenters on either side of him. Gazing at it, Aarin sat back, one palm curved over the arm of his chair, his elbow pointed outward.
“You didn’t tell anyone? I don’t know why that thought surprises me though,” she said. “You’ve always been very humble, but, you know, the college loves any opportunity to brag about its teachers.”
“There’s nothing to brag about,” he replied. He lifted the paper and extended it to her.
But though she took it, she simply flipped the page and handed it back. This section had more images and a brief article about the award. His gaze stuck on a photo in the left-hand column. Him and Lydia dancing, her cheek to his chest, his arms around her sides. You couldn’t see her face in it, but there was the dress, the fabric embracing her figure.
“You haven’t mentioned her either,” Angela continued. “Not that it’s any of my business. I’m actually glad to see you’re dating someone, but you’ve kept it very quiet.”
Unsure what to say, he said nothing at all, and that seemed to fuel her need to speak further.
“She’s pretty, but looks young … younger, at least.”
“I’m only thirty-one.” A juvenile response, and he hated it.
Angela tilted her gaze. “You’re fond of her.”
How she’d reached that conclusion, he had no idea, but the restlessness of his class, which should have begun long before now, brought him to his feet. “The award wasn’t much, though I’m grateful for it. I was reluctant to receive it, but glad I went, when all was said and done. And I had a lovely time. I’d really rather not make too big of an issue about it.”
He cast a meaningful glance at the wall clock and was relieved when she stood. She made no attempt to claim the paper.
“Congratulations, just the same.”
With another smile, she strolled out, and he sagged. His shoulders slumping, he sank into his chair again, his will to teach today completely drained.
His gaze returned to the image. He’d known there were pictures, but could only hope this was the extent of what had made print and that the award would be forgotten as the week progressed.
“Professor Kai, My dad saw you in the paper. Something about receiving an award.”
Aarin’s stomach tied in a knot. If he’d hoped the award would go unnoticed, he’d been distinctly wrong, and this student wasn’t the first to point it out. The rest of the attention he’d received was word of mouth, the natural progression of any rumor across campus. He done his best to overlook it, but late in the day, was feeling weary.
“Anyhow, congrats.”
Aarin nodded, but was thankful when the student left. He slipped into his office, locking the door. He had to have ten minutes of quiet or lose his sanity. But the instant he sat, his phone buzzed.
Lydia. Figured you were between classes now. Wanted to say I missed you.
Despite his unfocused mood, he smiled. I miss you, too. More than he thought possible. She was peace, a calm voice in his cluttered mind.
She texted again. I trust you about tomorrow.
Tomorrow, when she’d sit in his class gazing back at him. He trembled the slightest bit thinking of it. Her mentioning trust was significant. He’d promised to take care of things, but not decided how to do that. It seemed like he’d either have to let go of her or the job. He wasn’t sure he wanted to do either one.
It’s just between us, she added.
The newspaper Angela had left behind glowed back at him, his eyes automatically falling onto the photo of the two of them. Secrets had a way of escaping, and already he saw theirs starting to leak. Either he denied that entirely and looked like a fool, or he confronted the situation before it fell apart underneath them.
Aarin? Lydia texted once more. Are we crazy to feel this way?
His thumb on the keypad, he wished the press of it wasn’t so impersonal, a handful of letters meant to reassure her without actual contact. You are not crazy, he said. You are everything. He hit send.
Everything. His greatest source of happiness, worth every minute of the turmoil he went through to see her.
“I’ve made a decision,” Aarin said, his gaze scanning every part of the room but where she sat.
That, in itself, Lydia could have overlooked, except for Karen’s interest on her left. More than once since class began, she’d glanced her way, knowingly.
Aarin’s voice again drew her gaze. “I am no longer grading your work.”
A murmur of student’s voices filled the room, one person leaning into the ear of the other.
Lydia tried to read what he was thinking. He looked handsome, brown slacks, a pin-striped button up. Seemed, too, like he’d had his hair cut. He was curiously poker-faced though.
“You will grade everything from here on,” he continued. “Contrary to what you’re thinking right now, this isn’t because I’ve become incapable. With the exception of finals, which I am required to grade, I believe seeing what the person on your left or right is thinking will help you understand the subject better. With that in mind, trade with the person directly behind you. Students in the back row, bring yours to the front.”
Lydia did as instructed, knowledge dropping into place. Karen, too, with yet another glance, made it clear she understood. This was him protecting her grade, and though no one else would understand that, it showed his intention w
here they were concerned.
Frankly, when she’d texted yesterday, she’d had her doubts. She’d had twenty-four hours to convince herself he’d come to his senses, after all … and decide seeing her was too much and leave her out in the cold. Never mind, that didn’t sound things he’d do. He was far too kind to treat her so callously. Still, she’d listened to the negative voice in her head repeating over and over and over – He’ll never risk his job for you.
His reassurance in their texts earlier in the day hadn’t kept the voice quiet. Though she’d read his replies dozens of times already, she’d expected him to call things off. Because there was no reason why a man as great as him would find happiness with a girl like her. That’s what her doubts all boiled down to.
He was none of the horrible things people would associate with a professor who took this risk. He wasn’t perverted or desperate or greedy. And he’d already lost so much in his life, but now he was willing to take that chance again?
At the end of class, Lydia was quick to leave and somehow managed to dodge Karen as well, but as the next couple days passed, grew more and more antsy until she had to see him or explode. Though he’d said he would contact her, she gave into her anxiousness and sent him a message. Can I come over?
Her reply came seconds later. Yes, tonight.
But, there again, anxiety took hold. It’d been so easy to see him before. She hadn’t given any thought to being caught in the dorm or the parking lot. She hadn’t worried that someone wondered where she went. Now, she even spent an hour debating on what to wear. If she looked too nice, her roommate would ask questions. It’d been all she could do to explain her absence last weekend. And, God forbid, she run into Karen again.
Nervous, her stomach curling in on itself, she couldn’t eat for feeling like she’d hurl, so instead, she did classwork she could have delayed simply to keep her mind off of it. Finally, at a quarter ’til seven, acting as calm and natural as she could manage, Lydia exited her dorm room and made her way downstairs.
Sunshine In The Morning (Spring-Summer Romance Book 1) Page 8
