by Danica Avet
I shake my head and push the lackluster salad around my plate. I can’t look at him, although I’m very aware of his presence. Hell, Helen Keller would’ve known he was sitting across from her because his personality is so dynamic it practically commands attention. I’d been so happy to see a couple of friends I’ve made since joining the university staff. Cora Brumley, the vocal professor, sits to my right while Agatha Kenmore, a Sociology professor with crazy hair, is on my left. They’re both funny, quirky, and have welcomed me to Sauvage with open arms, or in Aggie’s case with a dozen cupcakes.
Yet they’re hanging on to every word that falls from Shaun’s lips like it’s gospel. I try not to feel slighted; he’s a celebrity, a novelty for them, so of course they’re interested in his stories. It isn’t like they’re ignoring me in favor of him. But it’s the fawning that’s beginning to grate on my nerves. Aggie’s playing with her pinkish hair, twirling a lock around her fingers, her gaze sharp on him like a shark scenting blood in the water. Meanwhile, Cora keeps tittering, hitting notes that show off her pure soprano perfectly.
Then there’s me, sitting between them, completely miserable. I can’t look at him without blushing. I can’t even think about what we did that night without blushing. He’s got me so stuck in my head, caught between reality and attraction, I don’t even realize the dean has called my name until Aggie elbows me in the ribs.
I look up to see Dean Forbes looking right at me expectantly.
“Stand up,” Cora whisper-shouts.
I jump up like I’ve been goosed, feeling my face heat up.
Dean Forbes smiles. “Ms. Frost joins us from St. Joseph’s Academy of Music, although that’s only the tip of the iceberg of our newest faculty member’s talents.” He glances down at his notes. “She graduated Cum Laude from the University of Illinois and completed her Masters in Music from Indiana University Jacobs School of Music. Before becoming a teacher, she was a member of the esteemed Red Mask Squad, which has performed in numerous showcases across the country. We’re very pleased to have such a talented young lady as part of our music program.”
Everyone applauds politely and all I want to do is sink into the floor. Instead, I smile at everyone and sit down as quickly as I can.
“Impressive resume,” Shaun says, as Dean Forbes moves on to the next poor sucker being introduced to the faculty.
I fight the urge to look at him, I really do, but he’s like a magnet. And BAM! There he is in all his sexy glory, smiling at me as though he’s actually proud of my accomplishments. My heart squeezes as I meet his gaze, which is weirdly tender.
“Thank you,” I mutter, ducking my head to stare at my plate again.
“Are any of your performances online? I’d like to see you in action.”
Not sure how to take the wording, wondering if he’s referring to the picture taken of us, my gaze shoots up again, but he looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Is he teasing me, or does he really want to know? I can’t decide and Cora—Lord love her—interjects with the same question.
Since she has a musical background, I feel safe enough saying, “The Red Mask Squad has a website with several archived videos, although I’m not sure if they keep the ones from that long ago.”
Shaun opens his mouth, his eyes sparkling, but before he can say anything Dean Forbes announces, “And now please allow me to personally welcome Mr. Shaun Decker.”
I slouch in my seat and play with my fork as he extolls Shaun’s numerous athletic achievements and professional career. The only thing I hear of interest is that he graduated from UCLA with a degree in business management. I’m not sure how many professional athletes actually complete their college education, but it pleases me to know he finished school. It says a lot about him.
The rest of the faculty meeting goes over the code of conduct, the upcoming Alumni events and the Student Government elections. I keep my gaze locked on my plate and as soon as the meeting is called to an end, I hop up from my seat.
“Are you leaving?” Cora asks loudly, because she’s just loud.
I smile and push my chair in. “I’m walking home because Mark has a PTA meeting after this so I want to get started.”
She blinks at me. “I can give—”
“I’ll drive you home,” Shaun interjects, appearing out of nowhere. No, not out of nowhere. He just moves fast. “I wanted to talk with you anyway about Moody, who’s in your Music Appreciation class.”
Cora looks from Shaun to me and back again, curiosity and speculation radiating from her until she practically hums with it.
I look at Shaun’s chest, at the Spartan symbol above his heart. Every time I’ve seen him, he’s wearing the faculty shirts. Either he’s really supportive of the school and proud to be on the staff, or he doesn’t have much of a wardrobe. But I make a mistake by looking at his chest. The shirt clings to his pecs, outlining the muscles almost obscenely.
“Can it wait until tomorrow during my office hours?” I ask, not wanting to get into a car with him, or go anywhere with him. Staying strong sucks when your body doesn’t agree with your brain’s decision. “I’m really beat.”
“All the more reason for me to give you a lift home,” he shoots back.
We’re starting to attract attention, or rather Shaun is. He’s the popular one, the celebrity, so nearly everyone watches him and, since he’s towering over me, they’re watching me as well. Not wanting anyone to connect the dots, I quickly agree to the ride although I don’t want to. Well, my brain and my heart don’t want to, but my body is all about being in a close, dark space with Shaun for however long it takes us to get off campus.
God, this is going to suck.
Shaun
I should feel bad for making such a big deal about bringing Katie home, but I don’t. If this is the only way I can get her alone so we can talk, I’ll take it. With the post-win staff meetings, team meetings, and organizing a plan for the next game, I haven’t had a chance to track Katie down since Saturday. Seeing her at the faculty meeting, sitting across from her and watching her avoid looking at me only made me that much more determined to pin her down.
Except, as soon as we’re in my truck, she stares out the window. My truck’s pretty big, but it feels like a jumbo jet with the emotional distance between us. As I pull out of the parking lot, I’m at a complete loss. I have so much I want to say, so many things I want to ask her, but she’s completely shut down.
“Why did you leave that morning?” I finally ask, without meaning to.
I bite back a curse as we come to an intersection on campus, taking a moment to glance at her. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest, which only emphasizes the lush tits I’ve been dreaming about for months.
Slowly, as though she’s using every ounce of willpower to keep calm, she turns to look at me. With her glasses shielding her eyes and night falling, I can’t make out her expression, but I know it isn’t nice, because the temperature in the cab drops about twenty degrees.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?” she spits out the last word like a curse.
Fuck. “I’m separated from my wife,” I hurry to explain. “We’re in the process of getting a divorce.”
She snorts and looks back out the window. “You’re still married,” she mutters. “And you didn’t even have the courtesy to tell me. Don’t you think that’s something I’d want to know? But I find out when she texts you, after she apparently saw pictures of me with you on the fucking internet? Oh and a heads up about that would’ve been appreciated too.”
I grimace, pulling onto the Spartan Boulevard. “You’re right,” I say quietly. My heart is pounding like a motherfucker.
It feels as though the next few minutes will determine whether or not Katie will let me see her again. And I want that more than anything. Why am I so fixated on her? Other than the fact that she’s beautiful and cute, she’s obviously smart and talented. She’s enthusiastic about her job, about teaching, and I like that. A lot. She al
so doesn’t seem the least bit impressed by my celebrity status, which is a welcome relief and makes her even more appealing to me. After having Denise fawn over me and lie for so long, honesty is something I treasure above everything else.
I dart another glance at her to see she’s staring straight ahead. “I should’ve told you about being separated, about who I am, but I didn’t want to change the way you looked at me.” She makes another sound of disgust, a scowl pulling her lips tight. “It’s true. You just saw me as a man you weren’t sure you were interested in, but wanted to get to know. Do you know how rare that is for me? My own wife didn’t see me that way,” I say, trying my best not to sound bitter or pathetic. “I was a meal ticket to parties, shopping and a cushy life for her, but you didn’t want anything to do with me, didn’t want anything from me. It was nice.”
God, I’m so fucking lame. It was nice. No, it’d been incredible, refreshing.
She still doesn’t say anything, except, “Turn left up here.”
I follow her direction and feel like the fates are smiling down on me. “I live in this neighborhood,” I remark. “In fact, that’s my house right there.”
I slow and point out the Acadian style home I’d bought when I got the job. It was part of the historic district, which meant I’d paid a mint for it, but it was nice and the previous owners had renovated heavily. With only three bedrooms and two baths, it’s the smallest house I’ve lived in since I lived with my parents, but I liked it better than any house Denise had picked out.
Katie follows my pointing finger. “It’s very nice.”
Her words are polite, but I can hear the warmth in her voice. I slow even more. “Do you want to see it?”
She whips her head around and, even in the darkness, I can tell she’s glaring at me suspiciously. “No,” she snaps. “I just want to go home.”
I knew she wouldn’t go for it, even though it’s not like I was planning to jump her or anything. I just want to spend more time with her, show her I’m not the cheating asshole she thinks I am. I clear my throat. “So do you like living here?”
She’s stubbornly silent for a few seconds before she grudgingly admits, “Yes, I do.”
“Me too.”
We’re both quiet, me because I’m trying to think of a way to ask her to dinner. I’m sure she’s just wishing I’d hurry the fuck up and take her home.
She sighs heavily. “You wanted to ask me about someone named Moody? Or did you say that just so I’d feel obliged to accept a ride from you?”
“No, I really wanted to ask you about him.”
“He’s a good musician, but I have no idea what that has to do with you,” she says a little snippily.
I glance over to see her doing the frowning thing. “Titus is in band?” How did I not know that?
Her frown deepens. “Titus? I’m talking about Cuba Moody, my freshman drummer.”
Huh, must be Titus’ little brother. “No, the kid I’m talking about is Titus Moody. Tight end, could go pro if he keeps his head on straight.” She still seems puzzled so I continue, “He’s in your Music Appreciation class.”
“Okay, what’s the problem?”
“No problem that I know of, I just want to check on him, see that he’s doing well,” I say lamely because it isn’t true. Moody’s doing just fine as far as I know.
“We haven’t had any quizzes or tests yet, so I can’t say whether he’s doing well or not,” she says primly. “But he’ll have to pull his own weight just like everyone else in my classes. I’m not handing out grades to anyone.”
Well fuck, now she thinks I’m trying to help one of my players pass a class. Seems like every time I open my mouth, I’m fucking up with her, giving her the wrong impression of me.
“That isn’t what I meant at all,” I hastily tell her. “He’s a good kid. I’m just watching out for him.”
She makes a non-committal noise and faces forward again. “I’m the third townhouse on the right.”
The area isn’t as nice as the front of the neighborhood, but it isn’t the pits either. The townhouses look the same in the dark, the only exception being she doesn’t have a vehicle in her drive.
“You don’t have a car?” I ask, baffled. Maybe it was in the shop.
Katie’s gathering her bag and purse, but pauses. “No, I don’t. Usually I catch a ride with Mark, but, like I said earlier, he had a PTA meeting tonight. Sometimes I walk to school. It’s good exercise.”
“You could ride with me,” I blurt, because apparently I haven’t had enough torture.
She sighs. “Shaun, I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t think us starting anything is a good idea.”
“Even if it’s just friends?” Like fuck I just want to be her friend, but at this point I’ll take whatever I can get from her. “I really like you, Katie.”
I can tell she’s undecided, the way she’s biting her lip reminding me of the way she nibbled on my neck that night. My cock likes the memory, swells with excitement of a repeat, but I have a long way to go before she’ll ever let me near her like that again. Which is fine. I’m in this for the long haul.
“I don’t—” she starts to say, but a loud thump followed by a curse stops her.
We both turn to look out the windshield.
“Do you have a roommate?” I ask, hoping the answer is no.
The front of the townhouse is shrouded in darkness due to the thick hedges on either side of the door and because she hadn’t left an exterior light on.
“No,” she whispers and I glance over to see her eyes are wide behind her glasses. “Do you think someone’s trying to break in?”
I haven’t paid much attention to crime statistics for LaSalle or Sauvage State, but you hear too many goddamn stories of women attacked on campus. The thought of someone waiting for her to come home with the intention of hurting her sends me into a protective rage.
I throw the truck in park and reach for the heavy-duty flashlight I keep in my truck. “Stay here,” I order as I throw open the door.
I’m out of the vehicle before she can respond, but of course she doesn’t stay where it’s relatively safe. No, Katie apparently doesn’t take orders very well, which I’ll have a little talk with her about soon enough. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I quickly stride across the small lawn, approaching the front door from the side. Katie’s on my heels, but has enough self-preservation to stay back when I glare at her.
Someone’s muttering in the entryway. It’s definitely a man, which only increases the sense of possession riding me. The smart thing would be to call the cops and let them handle it, but the impulse to protect Katie is pulling at me a lot stronger than common sense.
“Shit,” the intruder whispers, followed by another thump.
He sounds distracted, which works well for me. Holding the flashlight at the ready to use it as a weapon if needed, I turn the corner and flip the switch. Instead of seeing someone trying to pry open her door, I shine the light down to see a kid wrapped in moving tape wiggling on her doorstep. He can’t be more than twenty years old, if that. Leanly built, as though he’s still growing, he’s in nothing but a pair of boxers with hearts on them and a pair of socks.
His eyes are wide and slightly panicked, but as soon as he sees the light, he stammers, “H-Hail Euterpe, muse of music and s-song, accept this s-sacrifice of young, f-freshman blood from the brothers of Zeta Chi Mu as w-we beg for your continued b-blessings this semester.”
“What the fuck?”
Kate
Could this night get any stranger, or messed up? I wonder as I stare down at Cuba Moody, who has so much tape on his bare skin he’ll look like a Chinese Crested dog by the time his buddies pull it all off.
Shaun is standing next to me, puffed up with protective aggression, which surprises me. I mean, sure he said he wanted to be friends, but I honestly don’t believe him. I’m starting to think I’m just a magnet for married men. Yes, he’s separated, or so he says, but how can
I believe him? What if he just wants someone to play with while he waits for his wife to join him here?
I shake off the thought and concentrate on the mostly naked Cuba, who stares up at us like a deer in headlights. “Cuba, what the hell are you doing?”
“Rushing?” he says, or asks, with a little squeak in his voice.
“Are you shitting me?” Shaun asks, voice dripping with disgust. “Son, you realize you’re mostly naked on your professor’s front step? Do you think this will look good on either of you?”
I glare at Shaun because the more he speaks the more Cuba looks scared shitless. “Stop it,” I tell him, before looking back at my freshman drummer. I sigh. “What are you supposed to do now?”
His brown eyes dart around. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I think someone’s supposed to come pick me up. Or maybe I’m supposed to stay here all night?”
I don’t really have the patience for this, but it isn’t any worse than what I did when I joined the Red Masks. “Well you can’t stay here all night,” I tell him, because Shaun’s right.
If any of my neighbors see a student on my doorstep wearing next to nothing except packing tape and—I squint at him—a bow, I’ll be called in for fraternizing with students or something. I really don’t need that kind of drama.
“I’ll call Levi.” I turn to Shaun, who still looks like he wants to strangle Cuba. “Could you help him up? Why are you on the ground anyway?” I ask the downed drummer. I pull out my house keys and work on unlocking the door.
“They propped me up next to the door, but I fell because I was trying to scratch my n— nose,” he mutters, as Shaun lifts him off the ground as though he weighs nothing at all. “Whoa, man, you’re like scary strong. Can I get an autograph? I asked my brother to ask you for one, but he said no. He’s such a douche.”
I don’t say anything as I open my door, although yes, even I’m impressed with Shaun’s strength, having felt it myself when he picked me up that night. Shaking my head to clear the unwelcome thought, I let them both into my house. Well, Shaun strolls in while Cuba does this hopping thing.
