A Higher Education

by Rosalie Stanton

  “If you’re asking if I’m going to sleep with him, the answer is no,” Jane replied coolly. “I told him I don’t sleep with guys I just met, even if they are adorable and sweet and send me encouraging text messages throughout the week. We’re just going to help each other out with some work.”

  “And make out a little.”

  Jane shrugged. “It helps break up the monotony.” She pulled a royal blue blouse from her selection of clothes and held it up to her neck. “What do you think? Does this say…‘flirty but determined to not get distracted’, or ‘hurry up so you can feel me up’?”

  “Whichever one is the one you’re going for is obviously the right answer.”

  “You’re no help.”

  “In my defense, I never claimed to be.” Elizabeth stifled a yawn—or tried to—and stretched out along the bed, her tired muscles sending her a silent thank you. “Do you think you’ll be late?”

  “I hope not. I have class at some unreasonable hour tomorrow morning. But Charlie did say he wanted to introduce me to his sister. She’s a year behind him and the president of the Realis Society for Women.”

  “The what society?”

  “It’s a Meryton institution,” she replied, and Elizabeth could tell that her ignorance where this was concerned was unusual. “It’s a group dedicated to helping women network and integrate into the business world throughout our years here so we will have a better idea of how to handle negotiations and other common interactions once we graduate. They also have proper conduct guidelines and—”

  “Conduct?”

  “Yeah. Sort of like George Washington’s Rules of Civility, but modernized and catered to women.”

  “That…doesn’t sound outdated at all.”

  At that, Jane turned to her with a frown. “This would mean a lot to me, Lizzie. The Realis Society is one of the oldest female-focused societies in the country. Outdated or not, it’s helped women open doors that are otherwise closed.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head, the fight in her dying. There was a lot in what Jane wasn’t saying that was frighteningly easy for her to forget at times. “Well, if that is the case, I will champion your membership to the…whatever society of whatever.”

  “Realis Society for Women.”

  “Yes, that one. I predict you’ll dazzle all of them until they’re as in love with you as Charlie seems to be.”

  Jane grinned what Elizabeth had dubbed her Charlie-grin. “He is rather lovey-dovey at the moment, isn’t he?”

  “And for someone who knows he’s not getting laid anytime soon, he gets a gold star.” Elizabeth glanced toward her desk, where sat the reading she needed to have done by tomorrow, then to the backpack which held the assignments due early next week. It was likely a good thing Jane had plans for the evening, as she’d have no excuse but to dive right in to schoolwork. “What time are you heading over?”

  “As soon as I figure out what I’m going to wear.” Though it looked like Jane had decided, having pulled on a pink tee, which looked phenomenal on her.

  “I think we have a winner,” Elizabeth said. “You’ll knock him out.”

  “Let’s hope not, as I do actually want to get some studying done.”

  Elizabeth arched an eyebrow and Jane giggled again.

  “Well,” she amended, her cheeks reddening, “it’s way less creepy if I make out with him when he’s conscious.”

  “Consent is very important.”

  Jane checked herself in the mirror hanging on the back of the closet then, seemingly satisfied, pulled out a windbreaker. “All right. I’m going to head over,” she said, zipping up.

  “Walking?”

  “Biking. If it’s late, I’d rather not walk.”

  “Does Charlie have a car? He could drive you back.”

  “He does, but it’s parked on the other side of campus in a private garage. I’m pretty sure he only gets it out on weekends.” She shrugged. “There’s the campus shuttle too, but I think it stops running at nine.”

  “Lame ass public shuttle.”

  Jane shrugged. “Meryton is advanced in many ways but not so much in others. So I’ll just make sure I’m back before then.”

  “Or you could pack a change of clothes.”

  “Ha ha. No. Not having sex yet.”

  Elizabeth brought her hands up. “Hey, I didn’t say anything about sex. Seems your mind’s in the gutter.”

  Jane blew a raspberry, then busied herself with fitting various books and folders into her backpack. “All right,” she said, “I think that’s everything. You going to be okay tonight?”

  “I see a large pizza in my future, so the short answer is yes.”

  “Save me some.”

  “Psh. Pizza’s for dateless losers like yours truly, not for chicks who are leaving to go neck with their rich boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Jane said, totally unconvincingly. She hiked her backpack over her shoulders. “But I see your point.”

  “Have fun. And remember to make him wear a condom.”

  Jane looked scandalized. “Lizzie! We’re not going to sleep together!”

  “It’s just an expression,” Elizabeth replied, all innocence. “You know… ‘Bye, have fun! Wear a condom!’ All the kids are saying it.”

  “You’re awful.” Jane flipped her the bird, then hurried out the door before Elizabeth could think of a rejoinder.

  Which was just as well—she didn’t want to hold her friend up any longer, and the sooner the dorm room was empty, the quicker she could get started on the work she had due. The nap she’d intended to take had been shoved aside, chased away by a wave of alertness, and while it lasted, she was determined to make every second count.

  Plus, once she was finished, she could reward herself with pizza. Or possibly one of those mythical early nights. Elizabeth definitely considered herself more of a night-owl—the best ideas occurred when no one was awake to appreciate them—but this week had run amok with her internal clock. She could use a couple extra hours, and finding sleep would be a tad easier without a roommate around, since Jane, sweet as she was, snored hard enough the sounds could be mistaken for a wood-chipper.

  That would be the true testament of Charlie’s feelings for her, Elizabeth decided. The man who could sleep through that and still love her in the morning was a man to freaking marry.

  Elizabeth dug into her reading, opting for the desk rather than the bed, as it was harder to fall asleep while sitting up—though not impossible, as she had discovered a time or two. Thankfully, the books she’d been assigned in Greenfield’s class were interesting enough to keep her focus. By the time she checked her phone, dusk was around the corner.

  And she had an unread text message from Jane.

  SOS! I completely forgot my period was going to start today. There are no women around. HELP ME!

  Elizabeth checked the time-stamp. The text had arrived about ten minutes earlier.

  On my way, she fired back, and immediately got to work.

  Another ding.

  Jane: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! When you get here, we’re in Charlie’s room. Third door on the right. Also, can you bring me some spare underwear? Just in case.

  Elizabeth: You say that like I’ve never needed a tampon. What do you take me for?

  She pushed herself off the bed and set about gathering supplies. A handful of tampons—just in case—a pair of spare undies, and one of the textbooks by Jane’s bed. She doubted Jane wanted it broadcasted that she’d forgotten a girl-essential, and Elizabeth needed some reason to be at Netherfield.

  After emptying her backpack and stuffing the SOS kit inside, she checked the shuttle schedule, did some mental math, and decided that with the time it’d take the shuttle to arrive, plus all its other stops, she was better off just walking. Netherfield Heights was about two miles away, but Elizabeth knew how to motor when properly motivated.

  And if she started now, she could get there and back before the last vestiges of
sunlight had disappeared for the day.

  Maybe she’d order her pizza from Netherfield. With any luck, it’d be waiting for her by the time she got back.

  * * *

  Had it not been for the weather alert that had hit his phone ten minutes prior, Will might have thought someone was trying to pound their way through the roof. Netherfield Heights had been modeled after some of the grand tour homes in the South, and built in much the same way. The result was an echo chamber, and it filled him with a swift longing for home.

  If there was any saving grace, it was that tomorrow was Friday and he’d have two full days to gather his bearings. He needed to prioritize, get his mind back on the things that mattered and off a certain annoying brunette.

  Will sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, then tried to refocus on the sentence he’d already read four times.

  The trouble was, he’d decided, that he liked her. He’d kept waiting for her to say or do something that would magically make her repulsive, but it hadn’t happened.

  A hard knock on his door forced him out of his thoughts, and his eyes off the page he had yet to complete. He cursed and swung his legs over the bed.

  If Charlie was here in search of condoms, he was barking up the wrong tree.

  Will tossed his book onto his desk and tore a hand through his unkempt hair. Then he threw the door open, and froze.

  Elizabeth stood shivering on the other side, her arms folded, every bit of her looking like a water nymph. Or someone who had just ridden Splash Mountain seven or eight times. Her drenched brown hair was half in a pony-tail, half plastered to her skin, which, rather than creamy, looked downright pale. Her shirt clung to her midsection, so wet it might as well have been transparent, and giving him a spectacular view of her nipples. Her jeans molded to her shapely legs, and her shoes—what was left of them—stood in the middle of a small puddle.

  “What happened to you?” Will asked, completely dumbstruck. Other questions, such as what are you doing here flitted through his mind, but they didn’t seem as important.

  Elizabeth’s teeth were chattering too hard for her to get a word out. At least, not a word he could understand.

  Then his brain switched gears and the part of him that had grown up a gentleman came rushing out.

  “Come in here,” he said, throwing the door open wider. “I’ll go get some towels.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes rounded and she shook her head. “J-J-Jane,” she said after a long moment.

  Will frowned. “She’s in Charlie’s room. He’s down the hall on the other side of the staircase.”

  Elizabeth shook her head again, perplexed. “Sh-she said it w-was the th-third door on the right.”

  “It is, but you go left from the stairs.”

  “She l-l-left out that part.” She turned to start down the way he’d indicated, but he grabbed her by the shoulder before she could put more than a step between them.

  “You’re freezing,” Will said. “I have clean clothes and towels. Whatever it is can wait.”

  For a moment she looked uncertain, but she gave him a nod and what looked like the hint of a grateful smile and let him lead her into his room.

  “What happened?” Will asked again as soon as the door was closed. It was a stupid question, he knew—the rain beating down on the roof didn’t leave much to the imagination, but his mind was still stuck on the reality that the woman he’d spent all week thinking about was suddenly here.

  “Jane…forgot a book. I brought it.” Elizabeth indicated the backpack strapped to her back. “Apparently…during the middle of a typhoon.”

  “Yeah, it came on without any warning.” Will hurried to the bathroom and retrieved three large, fluffy towels. When he returned, he found Elizabeth glowering at him.

  “What?”

  “You have…an attached bath?”

  He looked over his shoulder as if to verify that was in fact where he’d come from. “Uh, yes.”

  “And your own room.”

  He shrugged. “Netherfield Heights was built for comfort.”

  “Of course.” She offered a flat smile, which turned a smidgeon warmer when he handed her the towel. “Thanks.”

  Will watched her for a moment, caught somewhere between transfixed and struck stupid. Watching her bury her face into the towel he’d provided was a bit more satisfying that it ought to be, as was the small pleasure sound she released as she covered herself. It wasn’t until her eyes met his that he jolted from awkward voyeur to helpful citizen again. His feet carried him toward his dresser without waiting for his mind to catch up, and the next thing he knew, he was digging through clothes.

  “Thank—”

  He turned and held out a pair of flannel bottoms and an oversized sweater. “You should put these on,” he said.

  She regarded the clothing as a child might regard a cup of liquid medicine. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You’re gonna freeze if you stay in what you’re wearing, and those towels can only do so much.” He stalked his way back to the bathroom and tossed the clothes onto the toilet. “Don’t argue—you know I’m right.”

  When he reentered the room, it was to the sight of Elizabeth chewing on her cheek, her brow furrowed, and her eyes alight with fire. She wanted to fight, he saw, but knew she couldn’t. There was stubborn and there was stupid, and Elizabeth was definitely not the latter.

  He watched, then, with a measure of satisfaction as she carried herself into his bathroom and shut the door behind her. Almost the second the latch caught, his mind began bombarding him with images of Elizabeth peeling the clingy shirt off her body, baring her breasts in a space where he had, just a few hours ago, jerked himself to orgasm while fantasizing about wrapping his mouth around one of those puckered nipples.

  Will cursed himself, glanced down, and cursed again. The last thing he needed was for her to see him sporting a hard-on. She’d get the wrong idea—or worse, the right idea—and he’d never be able to look at her again.

  A moment later, the bathroom door swung open and Elizabeth stepped out. Will had to force his throat to work.

  He’d heard that some men took pleasure in the sight of a woman dressed in their clothes. Like many things, Will had accepted this at face value but dismissed the notion that it could apply to him. Granted, that had been before he’d had such a strong physical reaction to a woman—a reaction that had gone beyond scaring him.

  Because, yeah, right now he was soaking up the sight of her dressed in clothes that belonged to him.

  Elizabeth made her way forward, doing her best not to trip over the pant-legs, which dragged along the floor by a few inches. She’d obviously tried to roll them up, but the material wasn’t very forgiving, and they hadn’t remained in place for long. The sweatshirt he’d given her was one that was large on him—on her, it came down to her knees, and the sleeves, also rolled up, still dwarfed her hands.

  She made a face. “I feel like a kid who just tried on Dad’s clothes.”

  “At least they’re dry,” he offered.

  “Yeah. Umm, thank you.” It could have been a trick of the lighting in his room, but Will would have sworn he spied a hint of red on her cheeks. “I already feel a thousand percent better. And hey—sleeves.” She clapped her arm sleeves together in demonstration.

  He laughed. “It was the least I could do.”

  Elizabeth swallowed and lowered her arms, her eyes finding his. Will’s throat went tight.

  “I—ahh—you came here for Jane.”

  “Yeah.” She hurried back to the bathroom, presumably to hunt through her backpack. A sound somewhere between disgust and dismay tickled the air before she returned with a bloated text book, cushioned within one of the towels he’d provided. “Ugh. I guess…the words are still good?”

  “I’ve seen worse,” Will agreed. “Just give it some time to air out.”

  “I’m going to have to replace this, aren’t I?”

  “Almost definitely, but she’ll be abl
e to use it until then.”

  Elizabeth cracked a small smile, which felt like a personal victory.

  “I’ll—ahh—take you to Charlie’s room, if you like,” Will said. “And then throw your clothes in the wash.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “No, I want to. Least I can do.”

  Elizabeth considered him. “I really don’t want to put you out. You’ve already been nice enough to…well…save me from self-inflicted hypothermia.”

  “That’s not nice, it’s just decent.”

  “Even so, please don’t inconvenience yourself for me. If you show me where the laundry room is, I’ll take it from there.” She paused, then smiled again, and it transformed her whole face. “Really, thanks. And thanks for the loaner clothes. I’m already getting the feeling back in my toes.”

  Will nodded, a smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “Good.” He glanced down, searching for words. “Come on. Let’s go find Jane.”

  Elizabeth cast a dubious look at the ruined textbook in her hands, then nodded and let him guide her into the hallway.

  8

  It was downright impossible to concentrate with Elizabeth Bennet at Netherfield Heights. Every time Will cracked a book to catch up on reading, his mind would drag him on a tour of the building, picturing her in various rooms or tucked into various corners.

  He knew she was still here, even without stalking the halls to find her, because the storm, rather than wearing out, had become more aggressive. Well, it wasn’t so much a single storm as a series of storms, one right after the other, and each seemingly determined to show-up their predecessors. The lights had flickered once or twice, which in itself was disconcerting considering Netherfield Heights had been updated with enough protections to outlast a nuclear fallout—or so the stories went.

  Also, Elizabeth couldn’t leave yet because she’d left her backpack in his room. Plus her clothes were currently being laundered and he didn’t think she’d want to wander back to Longbourn, storm or no storm, while wearing his pants.