The Sexy Series: The COMPLETE SERIES Box Set

by Z. L. Arkadie

  I yawn, go to my desk, and flip open my computer. Before I allow my fingers to direct me to the registrar’s office, I check my email. One message gets my attention.

  I gasp. “Professor Valentine,” I say, reading the name.

  My heart beats faster. The message was sent about three hours ago.

  Anxiety shoots through my legs, and I hop out of my seat. I feel like running into the kitchen or bathroom, or something, but why? I’m being silly. I take a deep breath to collect myself. I calmly sit back down, put my hand over the mouse, and open the email.

  “Naomi, couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Gina. Want to speak with you before you decide to drop. Email me as soon as possible so we can set up a time to meet.”

  I put a hand over my chest and sit back while tapping my finger on my mouse. “What should I say?”

  I type, “Sorry you had to hear that. Gina embarrasses me often and I think on purpose.”

  “Shit,” I mutter and delete what I wrote. I just had to get that off my chest.

  “Dear Professor Valentine…” I start again.

  Suddenly my computer notifies me that I’ve received an instant message. I nearly jump out of my chair once I see that it’s from Professor Valentine.

  “Did you get my message?” he writes.

  “Yes,” I write.

  He comes back with, “Well, what do you think?”

  I write, “I’m not sure. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  “What are you doing?”

  I frown, confused. “Right now?”

  “Yes.”

  I look around the room. The TV is on low and a late-night show is airing. I was so desperate to go to bed after the great night I had with my dad and Alice, but now I’m energized because it sounds as if Professor Valentine wants to see me tonight.

  Maybe not.

  Should I test that theory?

  I take a deep breath to control my nerves and write, “Nothing.”

  I count the seconds.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  He replies, “We should get together and talk.”

  “Now?” I immediately type.

  “Sure. Meet me at the St. Andrews.”

  My hands jump from my keyboard as if suddenly the keys have turned red hot. I’m not sure what to do. St. Andrews is an all-night deli near the university. The food is terrible, but the coffee isn’t so bad. It’s interesting that’s where he picked to meet. It’s late, but lots of students will be studying there. St. Andrews is nowhere to go when you want to fraternize with one of your students.

  I grab my phone to call Gina but stop just before tapping “Call.” Who am I kidding—she’ll attempt to distract me from any good intentions the professor has about saving my graduation and try to replace them with his intention to get into my pants. What difference does it make anyway… I toss my phone back on my desk.

  “Okay,” I type.

  My eyelids are heavy on the drive over. I feel so stupid. Why didn’t I just write, “Hey, Professor Valentine, the truth is I’m so sleepy. How about we talk on Monday?”

  But no…

  I’m excited to see him tonight.

  “Stupid, Nom. You shouldn’t be so excited to see your teacher,” I whisper. I pull into the parking lot.

  It’s not too late to turn around and go home. Is this common sense trying to talk me out of going inside, or my fear? Regardless, I park, get out of my car, and dart toward the entrance. I’m doing it. There’s no turning back now.

  I walk inside, and it doesn’t take me long to spot the professor sitting at a table near the window. He has on the same clothes he wore earlier, and he looks just as scrumptious. Professor Valentine stands as soon as he sees me. I walk to the table.

  “I’m glad you could make it,” he says.

  I can hardly look him in the eyes. “Me too.”

  Oh shoot. I want to hyperventilate. Me too? Was that even the right thing to say in this situation?

  “Have a seat,” he says.

  I get ahold of myself and sit, and so does he.

  After an awkward silence, I look at him, and he’s already gazing into my eyes. I look around the coffee shop in order to break eye contact. I think about buying something, but I’m already full and it’s too late for coffee. I stop shaking my leg under the table, get control of myself, and turn back to face his sexy gaze.

  “Earlier today, it sounded like you’ve already decided to drop my class,” he says.

  “Oh no! I mean, not totally.” Jeez, I sound like more of a ditz than a law student. “I mean, I’m still deciding.”

  “Well…” He reaches toward the floor and pulls up a binder that he sets on the table. “Let me show you this.”

  I frown—partly because I’m curious and partly because I’m exhausted. “What is it?”

  “This is the material we need to cover.”

  I look at the binder again with wide eyes. “That’s about as thick as the Old Testament.”

  He looks caught off guard. “Excuse me?” he says.

  “No, I mean, it’s just—I can’t believe you covered that much material in just four classes.”

  He gazes at me with a smile I’ve not seen before from him. “Don’t worry, Naomi. I’m good with things of biblical proportions.” He winks.

  I fight the urge to look away from his beautiful face. “I mean, this morning, class didn’t go so well for me. I couldn’t follow the lecture, and it was just tough being there.”

  “Right,” he says. “You’re missing Elena.”

  I feel my eyebrows meet. “Yeah.”

  “Listen, I get it. I could tell you two were very close.” He smiles a little. “You used to pass notes in my class.”

  My eyes expand. “You saw that? But that was only once.”

  His eyes narrow seductively. “Twice, and I see everything that goes on in my classroom, Miss Sutters.”

  Oh gosh, that look in his eyes sends currents through my groin. I shift in my seat to make the sensations go away. “Um, well… sorry about that. We were…” Talking about him.

  Twice Elena had passed me a note on how massive his bulge looked that morning, then we would try to guess which one of the students he wanted to bang. Boy, was that stupid and immature of us.

  “Right,” he says. I guess he senses I’m not going to say more than I already have on the subject. “So. What I don’t want to happen at the end of the semester, when all of your colleagues graduate, is for you to feel as though you missed out because life threw you a curveball.”

  I snort. “Well, that was some kind of curveball,” I mutter.

  He leans in closer and gently puts his hand on the table in front of me. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to trivialize what happened to Elena.”

  I study his sincere expression. “I know you didn’t.”

  He nods. I feel lost in his eyes, and it takes a second before I realize we’re sharing a moment.

  I take a steadying breath. “So why did you bring the binder? Do you want to get into that right here and now?”

  His eyes and smile widen. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I’m not prepared to handle it tonight.”

  Now he’s staring at me as if I’m something to study. His expression is partially amused, partially concerned, and completely intrigued.

  “Ahem.” A deep, throaty cough interrupts us.

  Professor Valentine and I break eye contact to look to my right. A tall man in a long black coat is standing next to our table. He isn’t smiling, and he’s holding a cup of coffee.

  “Pleasant seeing you here tonight, Derek,” he says, although it sounds as if he doesn’t really mean it.

  Professor Valentine sits back in his seat. “Right.” His tone is lackluster.

  I’m instantly curious about the nature of their association.

  “You know… I’ve been thinking. The funny thing about evidence—it never lies. Wouldn’t you agree,
Professor?” the guy says.

  “What’s your point?” Professor Valentine snaps.

  “I just know that the best way to break the law is to know the law.”

  Valentine sneers. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I shift in my seat. I don’t know who this guy is or how they know each other, but whatever’s happening here feels weird.

  The guy looks at me. “Oh, sorry, darling. Did I make you uncomfortable?”

  “Hey!” Professor Valentine growls.

  The guy throws up a hand in surrender. “Sorry.” He tips his coffee toward Professor Valentine. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” He winks, whips around, and strolls out into the windy night.

  My eyes remained trained on the professor. The professor remains fixated on the door. His light, upbeat expression has fallen slightly.

  He faces me again. His skin has turned red, and he can hardly look me in the eyes. “Forgive the interruption.”

  “Who was that?” I ask.

  He takes the binder off the table and stuffs it back into his bag. “Nobody.”

  I have some questions, but I can tell by the way he’s frowning that he’s not willing to answer any of them.

  “So…” He stands. “Do what you must. My offer stands.”

  Finally our gazes meet again, and my pulse races.

  “Good night,” he says and turns to walk away.

  “Professor Valentine?” I say loudly.

  He turns around. “Yes?”

  “What time on Monday?” I ask.

  His eyes widen as if he’s surprised by my decision to take him up on his offer. “Two thirty. My office.”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  He nods once and walks out. I watch him until he gets into a silver sedan, backs up, and drives away. I’m about to look away when I notice the car parked two spaces away from his start up. It’s a plain white Oldsmobile. I remember my dad mentioning something about how police detectives roll around in those types of cars.

  I squint to get a better look at the driver. It’s the guy who was at our table. Is he tailing Professor Valentine, and if so, why?

  5

  I stare out the window above my kitchen sink, happy to be home. I watch leaves dance across the pavement. The wind has picked up. I take another swallow of water. My mind is seeing snapshots of twenty-one phases of Professor Valentine’s facial expressions. Am I becoming hot for him? If so, then that would be unreasonable. He really is a good guy who’s just looking to give a talented student a helping hand. Perhaps I’m indulging in fantasies of him and me together because I’m lonely. The wind whipping across my window makes me feel lonelier.

  I finish the last of my water and set my glass on the counter. On the way to my room, I stop in front of Elena’s doorway. I flip on the light and take a deep breath. Her room is exactly the way she left it. I take special notice of the unmade bed, the opened pack of Marlboro cigarettes on the nightstand, and a pile of clothes on the window bench. This is the master bedroom. Three years ago, we flipped a coin to see who would get it. Elena won.

  Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. Her parents should be here by the afternoon. That gives me all morning to pack her things. I’ll throw away those cigarettes and wash the smell out of her bed sheets. She didn’t want her parents to know she smoked. I flip off the light and go to bed.

  “Hustle and Bustle” by Tramp Stamp blares. It takes me a moment to get over the disappointment of what’s happening. My alarm clock went off, and I’m awake. It’s nine in the morning, and I’m still exhausted. There’s no time to snooze or stare at the ceiling and relive yesterday. I take a deep breath in and blow it out, throw the covers off of me, and roll out of bed.

  I go to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and the last two slices of bacon in the package. Once I’ve had food and two cups of coffee, I go to Elena’s room and start packing.

  It’s an arduous task. I tear up several times when I touch some of her things, like her favorite purple hoodie, her CDs, and the stuffed bear she’s been sleeping with ever since I’ve known her. I really break down when I find her brush in the top dresser drawer. She’s had it ever since high school, and it still has a lot of her hair packed into the bristles. I hold the brush in my hand and stare at the fibers. Tears roll freely down my cheeks—it’ll never run through her hair again.

  Five hours later, I’ve got all of Elena’s stuff neatly packed in boxes and organized by category. That way when her parents get here, they can look through some of her stuff in an orderly fashion—if they want to.

  Suddenly a shiny object under the bed grabs my attention. I get on my hands and knees and reach under the bed to retrieve it.

  I smile once I realize what it is. It’s the friendship pendant I gave Elena for her twenty-first birthday. The pendant is half of a gold heart with “Best” carved into it. I get off the floor, hurry to my room, and dig through my jewelry box on my dresser until I find the other half of the heart with “Friends” carved into the gold. I put the two parts together. Best Friends. I close my eyes, and for some strange reason, I feel myself being hugged by a calming warmth.

  “Elena,” I whisper in hopes that a miracle will occur and she’ll answer.

  The doorbell rings and I jump, startled. I remain still for a few seconds, wondering if I should read any more into what just happened. Probably not.

  I go open the door for Elena’s parents, putting on my best face for them. They don’t need to be reminded of how sad this occasion truly is. They’ve come to take their daughter’s things, for goodness’ sake. Elena was twenty-four and had her whole life ahead of her. I want to cry just thinking about it, but I don’t.

  “Hi, Patti. Hi, Pete,” I say.

  Patti gives me a hug and kisses my cheek. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  “I’m good,” I say, although I lose my fake smile when I say it.

  “Glad you’re doing okay, kiddo,” Pete says as he gives me a bear hug. He’s never hugged me this tightly before.

  Patti and Pete give each other tight smiles before they walk inside. Pete says they don’t have much time, so he goes to his truck to get his toolbox and starts taking down Elena’s bed while Patti and I roll the boxes out on a dolly. After we put the last of the eleven boxes on the truck, I remember the necklace.

  “Oh wait.” I slip Elena’s pendant out of my pocket. “There’s this too. But I was hoping you would let me keep it.”

  “Oh?” Patti studies the pendant in my hand. “May I see it?”

  “Of course.” I hand it to her.

  After she studies it for a moment, her bottom lip quivers. Patti sniffs. “Yes, Elena would want you to have this.” She hands it back to me.

  “Thank you,” I say earnestly while staring at the pendant in my palm. I’m relieved she let me have it.

  “You know you didn’t have anything to do with this, right?” Patti says.

  I look up. Patti’s studying my expression. How does she know I feel so guilty? Maybe from the number of times I apologized to her at the funeral through my never-ceasing shower of tears. I swear I’ve never cried as much as I did that day and probably never will cry as much again. But once again, my guilt bubbles to the surface, and I look down.

  Patti places her fingers beneath my chin and lifts my head. Her eyes focus intensely on mine. “You didn’t cause the accident.”

  I can’t hold back my tears. I feel like God could tell me it wasn’t my fault and I’d still feel guilty. She rubs my back as I cry.

  After I pull myself together, I look her in the eyes. I want to tell her that she’s been like my mother, especially since I lost my own. But the look we exchange says it all.

  6

  I was so worn out after Friday and Saturday that I slept through most of Sunday. I woke up at about seven at night, studied for three hours for today’s class, took a shower, and went right back to bed.

  Now I’m walking briskly from one side of campus to the oth
er. I’m not even close to being late for my nine o’clock class, but I’m moving fast out of habit more than anything. Elena used to make me late for class every Monday by making me banana nut waffles and talking my ear off about every single piece of gossip she could think of.

  I stop. That’s right. I have my first session with Professor Valentine today. I forget what time we’re supposed to meet, so I check my cell phone.

  “Oh!” I have a new email from him.

  My heart skips a beat, which makes me feel embarrassed. There’s no reason I should feel this way. He’s not my boyfriend or my lover—we’re not even friends—so I get a grip and open the message.

  221 Baylor St. Unable to meet in my office today. Had an emergency at the house. Must be there this afternoon for an appointment.

  Can you meet me here? Call if you can’t make it and we’ll figure out a time to reschedule. (612) 555-6849. If you can make it, then I’ll see you at two.

  I look around, wondering if anyone is seeing this. Obviously they can’t see it. I’m the only one reading the screen on my phone. But Professor Valentine and me alone in his house? That’s pretty scandalous. Or maybe not. He’s just trying to help, and I need the help. So I take a deep breath and write:

  I can make it. See you at two.

  I look at my screen for a second then hit send.

  There. I did it. I continue my brisk walk to my favorite class, Criminal Defense Clinic.

  Today we’re using active cases during rounds. We break into groups of five to work on them, and the three hours go by fast. My head is so full by the end of class that I stop by Before I Blink, the little teahouse on the corner of Van Buren and Eiffel. I order a large green tea and read as many chapters as I can from Valentine’s textbook before I’m back on the road and heading to his house.

  I’m too frazzled by my day to be nervous about seeing Professor Valentine again. I put his address into Google Maps, and it directs me to his house with ease. Finally the voice in my phone says, “Your destination is on the left.”