by Havana Scott
If we weren’t serious.
I’m scared to ask him what he sees in our future. I don’t want to seem clingy. And he doesn’t offer any more info either, only talks about his college buddies, one of whom sounds like an idiot and the other one seems nice but boring. I wonder if he mentioned me.
Sitting here, watching Liam surf through his phone instead of sweep me into the bedroom, I try not to feel scared. I’m becoming too dependent on him. If he really does move to Harvard, which he very well might, I’d be lost and hurt for a long time. As it is, I’ve lost track of the few friends I have, and I rarely see my apartment anymore even though I still pay for it.
The moon and planets and all moving parts revolve around Liam.
Worst part is…I feel like I’m going to lose him.
I have to step up my game. I have to make him want me so much, he’ll never want to leave. He’ll never want to hang at a bar with his friends until 2 AM again when he can hang with me. I have to be irresistible.
“Well, I’m really proud of you, Professor,” I say with a wink when he glances at me. If I can’t get him with my patience and understanding, then I’ll get him with the things he used to love. Calling him “professor” again, acting innocently sexy… I get up and stretch, pushing my boobs and ass out in my little shorts, catching his eye.
His helpless gaze follows me through the room. I love how he watches my every move, the way I can still control some things about him. Visually, at least. I reach the armrest of the couch and lean back, looking at him from a backbend position, which gets a laugh from him.
“Stop. You’re crazy.”
“I thought you liked crazy.” I hold onto his ankles, flip over, and land in his lap. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Giving me a quick kiss, he reaches for his phone again. What’s so damn important on his phone? Apparently, he has messages from colleagues congratulating him on the nomination. I guess having a sexy young girl sitting in his lap isn’t exciting enough.
I lace my arms around his shoulders and nip his cheek. Then his ear. Somehow, one way or another, I’ll get him to give into me. Being irresistibly womanly is one of my superpowers around Liam, and if that’s all I got, then I’ll use it full force.
I accidentally-on-purpose brush my breasts against his arm, wrap my leg around his waist, but he doesn’t respond. If anything, he acts like I’m bothering him, pulling his face away and trying to look at his phone around me.
“What’s wrong?” I ask evenly.
“Nothing. Just had a few beers. Stayed longer, so they could wear off. Now, I have a beer headache.”
“A beer headache?” I laugh.
“Yeah, it’s when you get a slight buzz but then it wears off, and…never mind.” He sighs like he’s annoyed. I’m sure he doesn’t mean to, but it’s the most condescending thing I’ve ever heard.
His phone chimes, and I see a flash of text message. He closes it as soon as it pops up. A text from Mariana. Is that the ex he never tells me about? It begins by saying something like Hey, heard you saw the boys tonight… but I can’t see how it ends. Is this a new text, or has he been texting her all night?
I’m torn. On one hand, it’s probably nothing to worry about. On the other, I feel like I’m well within my right to ask who the woman is communicating with him. “Is that a friend?”
“An ex.” He pushes me off his lap, and I slip to the cold leather.
“Any reason you’re hiding it?”
He stands and eyes me straight, a soft blue-eyed gaze. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“What you’re doing.”
“I’m just asking a question, Liam. Since you got here, it’s been like pulling teeth.”
“I’m just tired. Mariana is my ex-girlfriend. I don’t know why she’s texting, because I haven’t read it yet, but I assure you it’s nothing, because I haven’t heard from her in months. Probably caught wind that I hung out with Brian and Daryl tonight. We all used to be friends.”
Makes sense. Fine, I’ll let it go.
But now I feel like an outsider. His friends are all his age, which means, if Liam and I ever became more serious, I wouldn’t fit into his world of colleagues, awards, and good ol’ college buddies. I’d sit around listening to them reminisce, feeling like a third wheel while I lament not having any friends of my own. Why? Because I stopped having a social life the moment I met Liam.
Because my world now orbits around him. If he gets that award, what’s going to happen to Satellite Sabine? Will she follow him wherever he goes, or will she come crashing and burning down to Earth?
While Liam enters his room to get ready for bed, I fume on the couch, the same one on which I masturbated a month ago in the hopes that he could teach me what I was doing wrong—and think to myself: How quickly things change.
14
LIAM
Saturdays might be when other people relax, but for me, work calls.
Some might call that avoidance.
Sabine is an amazing girl whose enthusiasm for the future and for learning I adore. I have nothing against her—in fact, I truly care about her—but I found myself needing space. This last month, I should’ve been concentrating on my classes, including Human Sexuality. What should’ve been a fun subject to teach has turned out to be a nightmare because of lazy undergrads who all believe they’re going to pass due to their abilities to identify the female genitalia in a diagram.
Newsflash: the only student getting an A is Sabine, and it’s not because she’s my favorite.
Getting to my office, I close the door, open the curtains, and plop into my chair to stare out the window. It’s a beautiful May day in Hendersonville. I’m surprised by how deeply I breathe in and let it go. I think having Sabine home with me all week was too much, too soon. I could practically hear the ghost of Mariana telling her to take her feet off the coffee table, sit properly, and return her cups to the kitchen when she’s done using them.
It’d been months since she’d texted me, but once I was safely locked in my bathroom, I read her message without Sabine looking over my shoulder. She’d heard I’d seen Brian and Dylan and apparently, caught wind that I was seeing someone. Why she even cares is beyond me. She’s the one who left, apparently because I worked too much and wasn’t paying attention to her, but we both know it was because she didn’t want to have kids.
Now, I sit back in my office and reread the short exchange:
Hey, heard you saw the
boys tonight…
I did. What did those
bastards tell you. Lol
Exactly what you might fear.
That I’m still devastatingly
handsome? Yes it’s true.
That you’re seeing jailbait.
She’s not jailbait. She’s old
enough and mature.
The way I considered you to be?
Leave it alone, Mariana.
What do you care anyway?
Apparently I was 20 years
too “mature” for you.
That’s not true, and you know it.
I know nothing. Enjoy the
fresh meat, Liam.
The whole exchange just reeked of boredom on her end. She’s probably realizing her store in Manhattan isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. Waking up to the fact that I was what she needed and more. Well, it’s too late. If being with Sabine has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t need validation from Mariana or anyone. If Sabine can give the finger to the fools in our class and be herself, then I don’t need Mariana telling me I’ve finally made a man out of myself.
I pull out a stack of essays to begin grading them. It’s always amazing that these students got into college when they still can’t end sentences with periods and still get “your” and “you’re” wrong.
Enjoy your fresh meat, Liam.
It’s true that aside from her, I never had a long-running girlfriend. My life’s been a series of hellos and goodbyes. Will I ev
er have a girlfriend again? Last night, seeing Sabine on the couch waiting for me like a puppy struck a chord deep inside me. I’ve been having a good time as a bachelor. A really good time. I wasn’t ready for her. And then, there she was—boom.
Aside from being twelve years her elder, what happens if I move to Cambridge? The program she’s studying is here at Crofton Cliffs. I can’t ask her to move to Massachusetts with me, and even if I did, there’s no guarantee that she’d come. I’ll be working my ass off so hard, I might not have time for her. Same thing Mariana complained about.
Did I stop to consider any of this before I asked her to come to my office so I could tell her I empathized with her plight? Why did I have to get involved? I was fucking selfish, that’s why. I didn’t stop to think for a minute that we might come this far and I wouldn’t have anything left to give her.
The fact is this—she’s too good for me.
I’m destined to be single, destined to work too hard, destined for a string of encounters with women who want me for that notch on their bedpost. I tried the relationship thing, and it failed. Besides, I love sex. Love it so much, I’m scared I’m going to hurt her. Scared she’ll get tired of me because of how much I’ll want it. Need it. Crave it. Yet last night, when she tried to start things with me, I couldn’t. I’d just listened to the voicemail from Dean Albert, and suddenly, all I could think about was the mess I was making. The jeopardy I was putting myself into.
Fuck—I have to remember my purpose here. Teach. Be the best damn professor I can be and reach those goals. I never should’ve gotten involved with a barely-adult, but what can I do about it now?
I work for several hours, getting a shitload of papers graded. Sabine texts only once during that time, and I’m grateful for it. I guess she’s picking up my vibes that I need some time to myself. Maybe a day to get over this, feel like I still have control of my life, when really—it’s been all about her.
A light knock at my door rips me from my thoughts.
Taking off my glasses, I rub them against my shirt to clean them and head for the door. When I open it, it’s the last person I’d expect to see. “Why are you here again, Tanelle?” I ask, leaning against the door, blocking her from coming in.
She’s in short shorts and looking for trouble. Her ass is tight, but it’s her tits that always get me, soft and milky white, nothing fake or girlish about them. She’s all woman, and it drives me up a fucking wall.
“I was just looking for you.” She bites her upturned smile.
“I thought I explained to you already that I can’t—”
“I know.” She pushes her way in, brushing her chest against mine. Her hair isn’t naturally blonde, and a rogue thought of her naked with a mismatched pussy flits through my mind. I shake it off. “But, you see, the problem, Dr. MacKenzie, is that I know what you’ve been up to. Everyone knows. Oh? Don’t look so surprised. You know I’m talking about Sabine.”
“There’s nothing going on with Sabine.”
“Dr. MacKenzie,” she laughs softly, running her chewed nails over the top buttons on my shirt, “Come on. We see her leaving through the teacher’s parking lot, we see the look on her face whenever she watches you, or you watch her. We saw you two at the fair, too. I guess you didn’t see us.”
The fair. Well, there you go. I was worried about others being there, and that is why I hesitated going anywhere that wasn’t dark. Just a thought—she could be bluffing, because she’s upset I wouldn’t sleep with her. “We’re only friends, Miss Evans. There’s no rule against that.”
“Aw, it’s Miss Evans now?” She pouts, full lips so thick, they’d look luscious around my cock. “And I thought maybe we were getting to be friends, too.”
“What do you want, Tanelle?” I pull away from her and drop into my leather chair. From this angle, she looks older with those heavy tits looming, and I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with my brain today, but now I can’t stop imagining them hanging in my face. I look away.
“I know what’ll happen to you if I tell on you, Dr. MacKenzie.”
“Tell on me? What are you, eight?”
“Now you’re insulting me. Fine.” She crosses her arms and takes on another tone altogether after taking her foot out of her flip-flop and pressing it against the armrest of the chair. She has nice, slender feet. “Listen, Professor…you’re fucked and you know it.”
“You can’t prove anything.” I want to tell her that Sabine and I aren’t seeing each other, but that would just be a blatant lie.
Smug smile on her face, she slides her phone out of her jean shorts’ pocket and taps on her screen. Casually, she whips her phone around and shows me a very grainy shot of two people kissing in what looks like a parking lot. Sabine’s in her little black dress, heels in her hand, and she’s got her hand wrapped around my head, drawing me in for a kiss.
Fucking great.
“All I wanted was some time with you, Professor.”
“I couldn’t give you what you wanted, Tanelle. I might be a man but that doesn’t mean I sleep with anyone…”
“Who said anything about sleep?” She props herself off the wall, then sits right on the edge of the chair. I get a full whiff of her air displacement. She smells amazing, like a fresh shower and a hit of spray scented with cotton. Even though this happens all the time, it’s different now.
I think of Sabine. I don’t want to hurt her.
But is she my girlfriend, or have I been fooling myself?
“What do you want?” I ask again. I have plenty of money if money is what she wants to keep quiet just two more weeks. “How much?”
“For sex? How dare you, Dr. MacKenzie.” She leans down, cupping my chin in her hand, holding my face just below her tits. “I don’t want your money. You know what I want. And I won’t tell Dean Albert. It’s a win-win for everybody.”
Without missing a beat, she kicks out with her foot and shuts the door.
15
SABINE
Gee, I always wanted to know what torture feels like, and now I know!
Being home on a Sunday, studying hard so you can pass your tests and reach your next level of higher education isn’t the difficult part. Doing this while checking your phone every two seconds to see if the man you’re in love with calls you is. After dropping me off this morning, Liam said he had to go to work for a while, but now I’m wondering if he did. Who goes to their office on a Saturday and Sunday?
Well, who studies on a Sunday but you, dumb ass?
I force myself to focus. Even though Liam is probably meeting his ex after she texted him last night, which is why he brought me back to my apartment, but that’s my mother talking again, and holy shit, I need to get a grip and finish this math problem:
A dizzy sailor is standing on a 15 x 15” square tiled board. From his initial square, he is able to move to any square sharing a common side. Due to the sailor’s dizziness, he shifts and acts standoffish. How many days will he go lying to his girlfriend about who he’s with, even though it’s plain as the nose on his face that he’s just scared of deepening his relationship? Should the girlfriend confront him or give him the space he clearly needs?
Sigh.
Thank God for Leo. While my other roommates took off for the day, Leo seemed to have realized that I might need human contact. He comes into my room and lands on the edge of my bed with a flourish. The first thing I notice is that he’s really working the new eyebrows. “Like my new brow pomade?”
“It’s fabulous,” I reply.
“¿Qué pasa, Sabine? You can tell me.”
“Liam hasn’t called. It’s already almost night time. Why would he do that? Why can’t he just let me know what’s going on? He’s making things worse by not calling.”
Leo shakes his head, grabs my big toe. “I know you’re going to hate me for saying this…”
“I would never hate you.”
“Thank you, but you’re going to hate me—forget him, Sabine. The man’s head is
in a different world. Both his heads. He’s not worried about classes or grades like you. He’s thinking about work and friends and mojitos at the dinner club…”
“Dinner club?”
“You know what I mean. Fancy places with fancy friends and his fancy life.”
“He’s not a billionaire, Leo.”
“No, but he’s an adult. And before you tell me you’re an adult, too, twenty isn’t an adult. You—we—just started out. He’s been adulting for way longer. Besides, he’s a hot man, and hot men always have issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“They need validation, and you being a young woman, gives him that. Besides, do you want to be dealing with scores of women hitting on him your whole life? Because that’s what’s going to happen. Forget that shit.” He flings an imaginary problem out of his hand.
“Huh, I never thought of that.” I might be too insecure to deal with fending off gorgeous women if Liam and I were ever to be together. Then again, it can be surprisingly satisfying to have gorgeous women ogling your man when you’re the only one he wants.
“Listen to Leo.” He criss-crosses his thin legs and pulls his T-shirt over his knees to cover the fact that he shaved them. I saw. “Find a man who’s cute but not a fucking bearded Chris Hemsworth, for Christ’s sake. Get a man who’ll have eyes only for you.”
“Or don’t get a man at all.” I roll my eyes and reread the next math problem for the fifth time. “I don’t need one. I have a closet full of toys,” I mutter. Oh, my God, did I just say that?
Leo’s eyes widen. “You do? Niña, can I see them?”
I shake my head, giggling. “No, go away. Forget I ever said anything.”
“Why do you have so many?” he asks. “Do you have a favorite? Ay, please show me.”
