by Rachael Wade
“Mr. Campbell, you wanted to see me?”
“Why yes, Ms. Parker, I did.” His grin turned to a frown when he heard my address, his tone uncertain. He stopped toying with the pencil and turned to grab a piece of paper. The room filled with silence as the last student shut the door.
“There’s something I wanted to show you, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in going with me.”
Going with him? Crap. “Okay...”
“It’s a writer’s conference in Portland, a month from now. I’ve had two spots reserved for months now, just in case one of my students wanted to attend. It’s a great chance to network and improve your craft.” He handed me the flyer.
I didn’t take my eyes off of it.
“No pressure or anything, just thought I’d offer.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“Sorry?”
“I mean, why me and not one of your other students?”
“Because I have faith in your work and I’m excited to see where it’s going to take you.” His eyes turned cold, his jaw set. “Is that sufficient for you?” He lifted himself from the desk, standing now.
“No, Mr. Campbell. I don’t think it is.”
“Is there a problem, Ms. Parker? Something you want to say to me?” Reaching for his tie, he began to loosen it, unraveling it with his fingers, angry eyes still locked on mine.
“I’m not sure I like being your pet. Or your science project, I don’t know which.”
“You have a smart mouth.”
“You make smart observances.”
“You’re going to make this invitation difficult, aren’t you?”
“If you’re dishonest with me, yes.”
“You’ll regret it if you don’t accept.”
“Is that a threat?”
“That’s a promise.”
I pursed my lips and peered out the window.
“Dishonest with you about what, exactly?”
My head snapped toward him again. “Are you inviting me to this because you sincerely want me to go to the conference or because you like me?”
“Like you? What is this, third grade? My answer is both. And that’s a problem because?”
“I’ve heard things about you.”
“Oh?” He plopped down onto the ledge of the desk.
“That you sleep with your students and cheat on your girlfriend.”
“Excuse me? I don’t have a girlfriend. And who I sleep with isn’t any of your damn business.” He walked around to the other side of his desk, removed his gray tweed jacket and flicked it onto his chair.
“I think it is my business if I’m going to be spending time with you off campus. And isn’t the redhead your girlfriend?”
“I’m assuming you’re referring to Alisha, and no, she is not my girlfriend. Not anymore. Damn it, Kate, who the hell do you think you are? You’re my student, I’m offering you a chance to go to this conference, and you’re going to take it. That’s it, nothing more.”
“Excuse me?”
He veered around the desk to stand in front of me again, our faces inches apart, nose to nose. “You heard me. You’re going to go because you deserve it. You’re going to go because it’s an excellent opportunity for you, and nothing you hear about me on this damn campus or elsewhere is going to deter you, understand?” He licked his lips and rubbed his jaw, glare stone cold.
My fists balled at my sides and I could feel my face flush, a combination of fury at his audacity and nervousness from standing so close to his mouth again. I didn’t trust myself around that mouth.
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know your writing.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s more than enough.”
“Are you attracted to me, Mr. Campbell?”
“Ryan.”
“Ryan. Well are you?”
“Of course I am, Kate. What, are you not used to men finding you attractive? Do you need me to display it on a parade float for you? Do you want me to do a song and dance?” He spoke quieter now, an angry whisper. “I won’t screw you over like the other female students I have in the past, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“So it’s true.” I breathed, my eyes bouncing from his lips back to his smoldering, caramel eyes.
“I’m not proud of it and I can’t take it back. So take it or leave it.” He shifted forward and his fingertips grazed mine. “I won’t feed you lies and bullshit, Kate. I’ve messed around with my students and I was a complete asshole about it. But you’re too good for me. I wouldn’t hurt you. And from here on out, I won’t say or do anything that will make you uncomfortable. You can go to the conference without me, please just go.” Too good for him? What? Why is he talking as if he knows me? Damn it, where is this going?
The tips of his warm fingers sent a jolt through me and I involuntarily moved closer to him, understanding the weight of what I was about to do—right here in his classroom. A hypnotic thrall reeled me in, calling me to his touch, toward the current that passed from his fingertips to mine.
I peered up at him with frustration, trying to grasp his effect on me. It was so beyond my comprehension and yet so crystal clear. We shared similar defenses, just different mechanisms. He scared people off with his sleazy reputation and haughty persona, and I scared them off with the scars of my past and my workaholic nature. I could see right through him. Was I just as transparent?
“I won’t touch you unless you drop my class. And only if you want me to,” he shut his eyes and leaned in further, his lips barely touching mine as he tilted his head. “I can’t fuck up again, Kate. I won’t. Not with you.”
I rested my hand on his chest and felt it constrict, his heat pulling me in closer. “So if I’m not your student...” I whispered and brushed my lips over his, feeling his hand slip around and rest on the curve of my back. His stubble was so close and his heartbeat raced under the palm of my hand. He swept a few strands of hair away from my eyes and cupped my cheek in his palm, lightly brushed his lips against mine again, this time pressing down to capture a kiss.
The sound of the classroom door slamming against the wall caused us to jump apart.
“You son of a bitch.” There stood Alisha, the redhead, arms crossed and fury present. Damn. I thought I threw Ginger off the boat.
7. CATALYST
“Don’t do this, Alisha. Not now.” Ryan grabbed his jacket from the chair and glanced nervously between me and the door.
“Oh, what, Ry? Is it inappropriate? You seem to be perfectly comfortable with inappropriate things. Do I need to go to the dean? You’ve already almost lost your job once.”
“I said don’t.”
“Where’s the blonde, huh? What, you’re into brunettes, now? That’s new.”
“I was just leaving.” I rushed toward the door.
Alisha snatched my arm as I breezed past her and jerked me in front of her. “He’ll do the same thing to you, you little slut. He’s incapable of being a boyfriend, you know. Can’t keep it in his pants. I can tell you all about it over coffee sometime.”
“Alisha, back the fuck off.” Ryan charged toward us, his tone deadly.
I yanked my arm free and stepped closer to her face. “Don’t touch me. And don’t preach your slut speech to me. If you’ve been with him, you’re no different than all the rest, I’m sure. Sorry to hear he didn’t want you, but take that up with him, not me.” I flew through the door, hearing the screaming match begin before I even made it to the hallway.
The tears welled up and panic set in as I raced across campus to get to the Light Rail. What the hell just happened? If I thought I wanted to punch Ryan before, I really wanted to let him have it now. And who would’ve thought such an elegant, demure-looking woman could be so ruthless? How could he ever be with someone so hostile? Did he like all of his bimbos rabid and feral?
I jumped onto the Light Rail and tried to regain some composure, loosening my scarf and jamming my iPo
d earbuds into my ears, this time opting for Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” I was blowing off the rest of my classes, but I didn’t care. I wanted to get as far away from school as possible. And the one person I wanted to run to, the one person I knew that would accept me in open arms was back in the cafeteria, still refusing to speak to me. Dean would be great company too, but things were getting serious with him and Crystal. The last thing I wanted to do was encroach on their space and make Crystal uncomfortable. She already knew how Dean felt about me. No need to rub it in.
It would have been the perfect, chilly afternoon to take a drive up to Anacortes and hop the ferry to Orcas Island for some peace and quiet, some time to think. But I didn’t have the time or the funds on my side this afternoon. Instead, I headed home to my flat and ate some lunch, letting the morning’s events sink in as I sipped my tea.
A knock at the door startled me from my reflections and I jumped to my feet to answer.
“Ms. Parker?” The delivery guy asked.
“That’s me.”
“This is urgent, from the university. Sign here, please.”
I signed and took the envelope, opening it before I even shut the door. Neat, sharp handwriting danced across the letter, slanting in a crooked direction toward the bottom.
Kate,
I’m so sorry you had to go through that. She never should’ve spoken to you that way. Please forgive me, and don’t miss out on this conference. You can hate me, but don’t pass this up. Take this ticket and go. I won’t be there. If by some chance you do want to talk, I’ll be at Easy Street Records tonight at 9 pm in Queen Anne. I’d really like to talk, but I understand if you don’t want to see me. Either way, I’m begging you to go to the conference and hope you’ll finish up my class.
Ryan
I read it twice, trying to decide whether or not I should take him up on his offer. Staring at the ticket wrapped inside the letter, I grabbed it and pinned it to the fridge, resolved to think about it later. As for his other offer, to talk, that was an entirely different decision all together. What was there to talk about? He clearly had unfinished business with this Alisha person, wouldn’t pursue anything with me unless I wasn’t his student, and promised he wouldn’t do or say anything to make me uncomfortable. Plus I didn’t want a relationship. No. I couldn’t afford that sort of drama.
Yet here was a desperate express mail letter telling me to meet him tonight to talk. And he almost kissed me. And I encouraged it. The whole thing was so damn confusing. What did you get yourself into, Kate? Eyeing my cell phone on the counter, I picked it up and scrolled down to Carter’s number. It went straight to voice mail. He was probably in class.
“Hey, it’s me. I know you’re still pissed. I thought a lot about what you said. And I might be on my way to do something really stupid tonight, but I need to talk to you about it first. Maybe then you won’t think it’s so stupid. I didn’t really get the chance to explain Campbell to you the other day. There’s something good about him, Carter. I just can’t put my finger on it. And I wasn’t being honest with you or myself.” I sighed. “There’s so much I need to say to you. Can you please just call me? Or come over after class tonight? I’m home. Bye.”
A few hours passed and no word from Carter. Nine o’clock was inching closer and closer, and I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do. After a glass of wine, a bath, and some Melissa Porter tunes on the iPod, I felt calmer and more collected; less angry at Ryan and more with this Alisha chick.
Screw it. I’m going.
When eight o’clock rolled around, I tossed my hair up and threw on some jeans, a blazer, and my black boots, then made my way to Queen Anne.
Easy Street Records was packed. There was a line out the door and the tiny parking lot was total chaos, filled with more people than cars, just gathered around talking and laughing. I could hear music blaring from inside. Making my way across the street, I scanned the line down the sidewalk and spotted him. My pulse accelerated when our eyes locked.
And then I saw the rest of him.
No gray tweed jacket tonight. No business slacks or tie. Instead he donned a worn-out, black leather jacket and jeans. His stubble was perfectly intact and his golden brown hair was effortlessly unruly. Delicious. And I thought the pool attire was good...
His eyes brightened when I approached him and he opened his mouth, about to say something. I waited.
“You—you came,” he stammered. Wow. Where’s the uptight, asshole professor tonight?
“Looks like it,” I gestured to the sign above the door. “This place is one of my favorites.”
“Yeah?” His smile brightened too, and it was contagious. My face lit up and suddenly all I could think about was how normal this all felt. Like a real date, with a normal guy—not my teacher—about to watch some live music. I was overwhelmed with the desire to just have fun and enjoy myself, to forget all of the crap I knew we were here to deal with.
“Yeah, I come when I can afford it. Which isn’t often,” I looked down and stuffed my hands deeper into my coat pockets, trying to recall how much cash I had left for the week. “I didn’t know there was a show tonight. I thought we were just going to walk around the store and talk...”
“Sorry, should have mentioned that. I’ve been planning to come see these guys play for a few weeks now. It’s all on me, don’t worry. I’m just shocked you came after...”
“How about we talk about it later?” The beers started to flow in front of us and the line began to move.
Relief evident in his voice, he said, “Sounds good to me,” then stopped to pay for two drinks when we made it through the door. We worked our way to the back of the store near the door, crammed in shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crowd. The store music died down as the band got ready to play. “Ever heard of The xx before?” he hollered over the crowd’s hum.
“No, is that who’s playing?”
He nodded, leaning down to reach my ear. “I love them, I’ll pick you up a CD of theirs before we leave tonight.”
“So this is what Mr. Campbell does in his free time.” Without thinking, I slipped my arm in his, locking us at the elbows. This is what music did to me: possessed me with euphoric bliss, shifted me into giddy gear.
“Contrary to what you might think, Ms. Parker, my nose is not always buried in a book.” He smiled down at me, pleased, and tightened our link, hollering as soon as the band came on. They began playing a song called “Crystalised,” and I was immediately sucked in to its hypnotic melody. The tempo picked up and Ryan moved behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. He sang along and tried teaching me some of the words, shouting them and spilling beer on me every few seconds, moving my hips to the rhythm. I laughed and nudged him in the ribs, continuing to sway with him as the song reached its climax.
His warm lips grazed my earlobe and I turned to meet his gaze, giving him permission to touch me. Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to my neck, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I reached back and tugged the hair at his neckline, eliciting a soft moan from his throat, feeling it vibrate against my skin. The swarms of warm bodies around us rolled back and forth in waves, moving and breathing like a living thing, the music entrancing. Everything unspoken between us melted away and all that was left was an organic, lucid energy, slithering and weaving its way around us in an intoxicating spell.
We continued to dance until the show was over, him twirling me around, both of us occasionally knocking into people. We fed each other our favorite movie lines and joked about all of the campus cafeteria food in between songs, eventually making our rounds around the store for some album browsing at the end of the night. He followed through on his promise and bought me a signed copy of the band’s album.
The next thing I knew, we were back at my apartment and flying through the front door. Ryan was hauling me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he fumbled with the doorknob to slam the door shut behind him.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he mu
rmured against my lips, letting out a mischievous chuckle when we knocked into my bedside lamp.
This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening.
He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand, keeping me tight in his arm with the other, and there they were. Oh dear God. Those black tattoos I’d worked so hard to stay away from.
Okay, it’s happening.
I ran my fingers over the ink, grinning as he dipped his tongue deep into my mouth, moving to slide my shirt off. I mentally ran through all of the hows, what-ifs, and whys, and I couldn’t come up with a damn thing.
We weren’t drunk. We only had two beers. There was no strange chemical in the air that was making people do stupid things like the apocalypse had descended on the city and the term ‘crazy’ was going out of style. And there definitely wasn’t an explanation for how familiar his hands felt or why I fell into a beautiful state of euphoria when our laughter filled the room. The chemistry forced us together and there was no use fighting the catalyst. Everything else would just have to work itself out.
He laid me down on the bed and tugged off my jeans, stripping off my panties before moving to his belt. I couldn’t get enough of him. Each time he had to reposition himself above me, I pulled him by the neck to keep his lips against mine. Collecting my wrists in his hands, he slid them to the side of my head, then moved in to work his mouth over my neck and chest, slipping off my bra to fill his hands with my breasts.
He reached for his wallet and grabbed a condom, and I slipped it on him achingly slowly. “Damn it, Kate,” he growled, biting my neck hard, drawing a slow, desperate moan from my lips. He tightened his grip around my waist, dragging his arousal along the inside of my thigh, right next to where I wanted him.
“You. In me. Now.” I begged, lifting my hips to find him.
“Wait, wait, wait, wait...” He held me still and kissed my forehead, taking his fingertips and gliding them over my swollen lips and down the core of my body, stopping in between my legs. I squirmed underneath him, the feel of his hot skin unbearable. He hovered, waiting.
