by Kendall Ryan
“Nine o’clock,” Kody jumped in. “Nobody is thinking about someone after 5 p.m. unless they want to bone them.”
“Come on, you guys. Seriously, he’s my adviser. This is his job.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince—them or me.
“Seems like he’s taking his job pretty seriously.” Kody smirked. “I’m not getting late night emails from my adviser about their favorite poets.”
I reread the email, still trying to convince myself that it all meant nothing, that Zach was just doing his job like he would for any other student. The worst thing was that despite my protests, everything they’ve said is making me melt inside. I thought again about what I said to Zach, that if things were meant to be we’d see each other again. I still didn’t know if I believed in fate, but I was finding it harder and harder to deny.
Chapter Five
Zach
After stopping by my office to grab my notes, I headed straight for my weekly meeting with my boss.
Lewis Clybourne, the head of the creative writing department at Vanderburg, may be old enough to remember the publication of the first novel ever made. If I’m exaggerating, it’s not by much. Still, even if he has one foot in the grave, he’s won several national book awards, so walking into Clybourne’s office for a meeting feels a lot like walking on holy ground. With how unholy my thoughts have been lately, I knew my first meeting of the year with Clybourne was bound to be harder than I had been the past week and a half.
When I walked into his office, Clybourne’s brows were wrinkled down over his eyes as he pounded at his keyboard, mumbling to himself. Not exactly a master of technology. “Zachary, I thought I had you for nine o’clock. I can’t get my damn email to work. Have a seat.”
We went over the usual niceties of the beginning of the year small talk, which I always hated. What was the point in discussing our summers when we could get down to work and get out of here? Finally, the conversation steered toward the real reason I was here—discussing this year’s new crop of writers.
“Where do we stand? How are your advisees?” he asked at last.
“I really see a lot of promise in all of them,” I said, buying myself a little time to open my leather folio and pull out my list of student names I’d printed out. I came prepared, knowing Clybourne was exacting in his standards. All my advisees were talented—you had to be to get into this university—but I worried my head would suddenly go blank, the way it tended to do whenever the topic of Poppy came up.
“I’ve set up Devon with a professor to get his novel finished by spring. He’s someone the university press might want to pick up. And I pulled a few strings to get Maria into the Brit lit seminar. She has doctoral program written all over her.”
Clybourne nodded, craning his neck over the desk to get a look at the list of names.
“Have you met with Poppy Ellis yet?”
I tried to keep a poker face, but my dick perked up at the mention of her. Choose your words wisely, Zach.
“I’m incredibly impressed with her…”
Smart, interesting, and filled with so much promise. The idea of pushing her, of watching her grow was intoxicating. Then my mind took a detour, cataloging the rest of the things I liked about her… Gorgeous tits. Delicious lips. Fuck me eyes. She had that whole tortured writer way about her that made me want to peel back all her layers. And I did mean all.
“With her publication history, she’s definitely some of the strongest talent we have this year,” I added.
Nice recovery.
“She’s one of the more published students we’ve had in the program in a long time. I trust that you’ll take special interest in nourishing her talent. She could mean great things for the university,” Clybourne said.
“Of course.”
The meeting wrapped up neatly after we discussed a few creative writing opportunities and an upcoming poetry contest, and I made a clean getaway before I showed a little bit too much “special interest” in Poppy. By the time I made it back to my office, I had been gone for all of thirty minutes and my email inbox was already more packed than a college frat party. I clicked through a few, adding new meetings and advising appointments to my calendar until I spotted one from Poppy with the subject line “Today.”
Zach,
Wondering if I should meet you today in your office or if you’re thinking coffee again. Let me know.
Best,
Poppy
I kept it professional. The last thing I needed was to leave a paper trail of suggestive emails.
Poppy,
Let’s have your meeting at the same coffee shop. Please bring the pieces you’ve been working on this week.
Zach
I had a solid hour before my meeting with Poppy, plenty of time to get through all these emails, but I closed out of my inbox instead. There was no chance in hell of me getting any other work done knowing I’d be a table’s distance away from the woman I’d been getting off to for over a week.
I remembered what she’d said about Mondays, how much she hated them. Maybe I could make this one a little bit better. I opened my folio and neatly tore out a piece of paper. Was writing her something too cliché? Fuck it. I had an hour to churn out a poem that could put even the slightest smile on that pink lip-glossed mouth.
By the time I was finished, I had eight minutes to make it to the coffee shop. Perfect. I left the poem unsigned, and folded it up into my right pocket. I’d slip it in her bag when she wasn’t looking, a guarantee that I’d be on her mind later when she found it while digging for a pen in class or pulling out her wallet at the grocery store. Then again, maybe she’d never suspect it was from me.
Our table from last week was empty when I got to the café, so I ordered us the same large, black coffees as last week.
A few minutes later, the bells above the door chimed and I looked up to see Poppy pushing her way inside. She was dressed in a pair of jeans that highlighted her every curve. They were adorably rolled at the ankles, showing off a pair of vintage sneakers. Her loose gray sweatshirt exposed one slender shoulder and the strap of a lacy bra. She was every co-ed fantasy I’ve ever had come to life and I had to take a slow, deep breath just to keep from groaning.
Her eyes lit up when she spotted me. I took a sip of my coffee and watched her approach. That sweatshirt was draped perfectly over her tits, which looked like just the right size to fill my hands. As if focusing wasn’t already going to be a problem, that visual cemented—and I mean cemented—my current situation.
“Hey,” she said, offering me a nervous smile as she approached. I wondered if it would always be like this—the uncertainty when we were around each other. This carefully constructed dance to make sure we didn’t cross one of the invisible lines that said we shouldn’t be together.
“Hey,” I returned. “I got you a coffee.” I nodded toward the steaming mug waiting for her on the table.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
She was right—and for any other student, I wouldn’t have.
“You mind if I grab something to eat?” she asked, dropping her laptop bag into the chair.
“Of course not.”
When she headed toward the counter to place her order, I leaned over the side of the table and slipped the note into her bag.
That hint of anxiety when you knew someone was going to read your words uncoiled low in my gut. Even if Poppy wouldn’t know they were my words, I felt nervous and slightly anxious. What would she think? As I stared at her bag, and waited for her to return, a moment of regret panged through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have left it. Maybe she wouldn’t like it. Then I realized this is really the only way I could communicate with her and not be discovered—I certainly couldn’t send something like that to her university email.
Seconds later, she returned with a bagel, and settled into the seat across from me. “Thanks. My morning was crazy. I didn’t have time for breakfast.” After taking a big bite of h
er bagel, Poppy wiped her mouth with a napkin and offered me another of those shy smiles.
I enjoyed my coffee, and the view—while Poppy took a few more bites of her food, and then composed herself, pulling out a notebook and flipping it open.
Before we had a chance to get down to business, a guy and a girl approached our table, stopping right beside it. The guy, in his mid-twenties with bleached hair, grinned at us with a wide smile, and the girl, who looked to be about the same age, with mocha-colored skin and curly hair was watching me with appraising eyes.
Wait. She was Poppy’s friend, I remembered her from the party.
“What are you guys doing here?” Poppy hissed, looking from them, and then back to me.
I raised my eyebrows wondering what was going on. “Hey.” I stuck out my hand. “I’m Zach.”
“Kody,” the guy said, giving my hand a shake. “So, you’re the hot adviser?” He winked at me, and I couldn’t help my answering chuckle.
“That’s me. Just your friendly neighborhood hot adviser.” I was dying to know what else Poppy told them.
“These are my neighbors,” Poppy offered, voice shaky.
“I’m Jodee,” the girl said, taking my hand once Kody had released it.
“And I’m sure they were just leaving, right, guys?” I’d never heard Poppy’s tone more commanding. I was amused, and I didn’t even know what was happening.
Kody offered a sly smile. “Oh, I don’t know. We were kind of eager to meet this mystery man who’s got you all hot and bothered.”
A slow smile uncurled on my mouth. “I get you hot?”
Poppy hastily shook her head. “Bothered. As in angry. Annoyed.” Her lips pressed into a firm line.
One look back at Kody, who was shaking his head, confirmed the truth.
“Why don’t you two pull up a seat. Let’s get better acquainted.” I rose from my chair and gathered two more from an empty table nearby.
“They can’t stay,” Poppy said.
“It’s fine. We can finish our meeting later.” No sooner than I had scooted the chairs over, they were joining us at the table—Kody all smiles and Jodee optimistically curious.
And me? I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. Only Poppy was frowning. And as much as I hated the idea of upsetting her, I couldn’t resist the urge to learn more about the woman from the people who knew her best. An opportunity like this might never come up again. Based on the way they sort of ambushed our table, my guess was they were trying their damnedest to give her a careful shove in the right direction, however reluctant she might be.
“So, she likes me, huh?” I directed my question to Kody, who, as far as I could tell from only knowing the dude thirty seconds, lacked a filter.
“Absolutely not.” Poppy leaned forward on the table, pointing one finger toward Kody and shaking her head.
Kody shrugged. “Fine. If little miss isn’t interested, I’ll throw my name in the ring.”
It took a moment for realization to strike, but when it did, I let out a chuckle. “No offense buddy, my equipment is all I can handle, I’d have no idea what to do with yours.”
“I could show you,” Kody offered.
Silently winching at what was clearly the wrong choice of words on my part, I shook my head. “My dick likes pussy, sorry.”
Kody pursed his lips. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
I took a sip of my coffee, and looked to Poppy. Her discomfort was evident, and suddenly I felt like an asshole. This was no longer some fun game, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I looked to Kody and Jodee, meeting their eyes across the table. “Your friend is sweet, and smart, and I’m sure she’s ready to get back to our meeting, so as entertaining as this was, you’ll have to excuse us.”
As they rose from their seats, Poppy flipped open her notebook once again, face hot, and began muttering something under her breath.
“We got absolutely nothing accomplished,” she said.
“You’re right. Give him your number and you guys can set up a make-up meeting,” Jodee suggested.
Poppy’s gaze snapped up to Jodee. “No. You’re not giving him my number.”
Kody leaned down and scribbled Poppy’s number on a piece of paper, handing it to me.
“For fuck’s sake, Kody,” Poppy hissed under her breath.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard her curse before, and it was hot. Everything she did was intriguing, and I wanted more.
They took their cue to exit, and did so with a wave. Kody blew me an air-kiss as they left.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” I said after they were gone.
Poppy wasted no time shoving her things back into her bag. “We were supposed to discuss my upcoming assignment. Unless you’ve forgotten that I’m studying under the renowned Dr. Peggy Chan?”
I swallowed, feeling like even more of a dick. “I haven’t.”
“And you do understand I didn’t enroll here for your personal amusement? I actually want to be a writer—not just a writer, a great writer. I thought you of all people might understand that.”
“I do. And I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“I’ve got to get to class. Bye, Zach.”
As I watched her go, I was struck by a thought. I'd never had such a visceral reaction to a female before. I mean, my ex didn't even know the difference between Seuss and Salinger. But Poppy. Sweet Poppy. She looked like a character out of a Dickens novel—innocent, intelligent, with a rich backstory and a desire to do good in the world. And I was weak for her. Totally and completely at her mercy. Sure, I wanted to fuck her, but I wanted so much more than that, too. Of course, it was just my luck that the one woman I’d been interested in in over a year wasn’t looking for a relationship—and was also one of my students. Shit didn’t get more complicated than that.
Chapter Six
Poppy
Remember how much I liked Jodee and Kody? I take it all back. I can’t believe they hijacked my meeting with Zach. Not only did we not get anything even remotely useful done, but they pretty much said all the things I didn’t want them to say. At least they kept quiet about Connor. I wasn’t ready for Zach to know that yet, and I wasn’t sure why, but I felt oddly defensive of him, of our situation. It was the mama-bear in me, I guess.
Lying on my bed feeling a mixture of regret and anxiety, I wished things could go back to the way they were before I’d met Zach, and everything had become so complicated. But even as I had the thought, I knew it wasn’t really how I felt.
“Hey, Poppy, can I use some of your flour?” Jodee shouted from down the hall, interrupting my thoughts.
“Sure, whatever,” I shouted back, unable to keep the edge out of my voice.
“What’s with the attitude?” Kody had come to stand in my doorway, his hand on his hip. He had his bleached hair gelled back and was wearing the tightest jeans I’d ever seen on a man.
“I’m just busy with this,” I mumbled, gesturing toward my laptop. I still hadn’t forgiven them, and I was having a hard time hiding it. In this moment, however, I was really regretting telling them to come over whenever they pleased.
A quick glance to the living room confirmed that Connor was still doing his homework at the coffee table.
“You know what would help?” Kody smiled, totally ignoring the fact that I was clearly trying to work. He leaned down to whisper near my ear. “If you got laid.”
“I agree,” Jodee said, closer now.
I ignored them and kept typing.
“You’ve been so on edge lately. Are you horny?” Kody sat down at the dining table beside me. His question was almost laughable, considering the fact that I could hardly keep my hands to myself every time I laid eyes on Zach.
“Can I please just do my work?” I asked, clearly frustrated. The last thing I needed was for Connor to overhear any of this. “Plus, there are little ears nearby.” I looked pointedly toward the living room.
Kody stoo
d, putting his hands up in mock surrender, and left, with Jodee in tow.
It wasn’t a total lie; I did need to get work done. I’d taken a part-time job to pay the bills, doing digital marketing and writing copy for a non-profit that specialized in literary advocacy. It was an amazing organization and I was excited to be a part of it, but I was having a hard time focusing on it without thoughts of Zach floating into my head.
I reached into my bag and checked my phone. No texts. My anxiety and bad mood weren’t just because of what had happened with Zach at our meeting. As much as I hated to admit it, it bothered me that I hadn’t heard from him. I felt pathetic, sitting around waiting for a man to text me, but I couldn’t seem to stop. He had my number, so what was the problem? You didn’t even want him to have your number in the first place, I reminded myself. It was true, but it didn’t mean some small part of me wasn’t hoping he’d text me, now that he did. I felt myself getting annoyed with my so-called friends again for putting me in this position.
I took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn’t going to help anything to be mad at them, especially when they thought they were being helpful. Besides, I needed to stop caring about what Zach thought. Despite telling myself this, I reached reflexively into my bag one more time to check my phone. But instead of finding my phone, my fingers brushed against a folded sheet of paper. I pulled it out, unsure what it was, and unfolded it.
Briefly I wondered if it was from Connor. There had been a time, soon after he learned how to write, that Connor would leave me sweet, encouraging notes in my bag, just like I would occasionally leave inside his lunchbox.
But this tidy scrawl wasn’t Connor’s handwriting.
Roses of crimson
Skies of blue
Nature’s beauty has got nothing on you.
Do you know how you affect me?
I don’t think you do.
If given the chance, I think I could love you.
My heart gave a little jump as I looked down at the words. I’d never been given a poem like this, there was genuine feeling in these words. Whoever wrote it was sweet and caring, and though I had no idea who it was from, it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
