Work Violation

by BJ Harvey

  He moves his now soft eyes to me, arm outstretched. “Beautiful, would you like to leave?” he asks, his question meaning almost as much as the praise he just lavished on me while defending me to my father.

  I push my chair back and calmly rise, placing my hand in his and turning to my sister. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Her apologetic gaze is almost my undoing, but my determination to walk out with my head held high, my emotional bodyguard by my side, holds me together. She grabs my hand and gives me a gentle squeeze before letting me go.

  Without another glance at either of my parents, I follow Jax as he leads me out of the room and through the front door.

  My chest tightens, and my eyes sting as we get to the truck. Jax helps me inside before walking around the hood to get behind the wheel. He reaches over and gives my leg a reassuring rub, then starts the engine and drives out onto the road.

  My mind is in overdrive. I should’ve known better. My parents are the very definition of polar opposites of Jax’s mom and dad. My family’s dynamic is so cold and restrictive compared to his family’s free, warm, and loving one.

  Gilly was a godsend and tried her best to deflect their jabs and show her support for me, but going by Jax’s abrupt decision to stand up for me, hold out his hand for me, and then lead me out of the hornet’s nest, he’d had enough.

  Other than my sister, no one has stood up to my parents to defend me like the man beside me just did. That makes my embarrassed heart beat faster. Before the day I walked out of my comfortable albeit unfulfilled life, I would’ve made excuses for their behavior. Since then, I’ve avoided any unnecessary contact with my parents.

  That is why I feel the need to explain what just happened to Jax.

  I don’t get the chance.

  “I hope I don’t offend you when I say that I will never stand by and let anyone run you down, especially people who are meant to love and support you unconditionally.”

  “I’m not offended,” I say quietly.

  He brings the truck to a stop at a red light. “And I will always defend you. I know you’re a strong-minded, independent woman who can hold your own against anyone and everyone but I had—”

  I lean over, cup his jaw, and turn his face to the side, then press my lips to his, holding them there as everything I’m feeling swirls around inside me, forming a warm burn in my chest. With this man by my side, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and that’s all Jax’s doing. Screw the chase, he’s already won.

  A car honks behind us, breaking the moment, but as I lean back into my seat, his hand finding mine, I look through the windscreen and smile. If anything has come out of tonight, it’s the absolute clarity that I don’t ever want to let this man go.

  And judging by his firm grip and his unwavering support of me tonight, I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual.

  Jax

  I’m furious and sad, disappointed, and grateful. So many warring emotions are swirling inside of me even though it’s been more than a week since I experienced Ronnie’s parents.

  What that dinner showed me is how strong and determined she is to forge her own path, and make sure she’s living her best life. Any man in their right mind would find that attractive as hell.

  It’s just another part to the Ronnie puzzle that I’ve discovered. Another piece that makes me want her even more, and given it’s been almost two months since we became an us—a dating us—I’m definitely of the mind that there’s nothing about the woman that I do not like.

  Her smile is huge when I hand out the marking sheets to the class. It was to be expected considering she scored another A. When I walk back toward the front, I catch Chelsea tracking me. It makes me glad I didn’t do anything more than smile at Ronnie because there’s something about the gleam in that girl’s eye that doesn’t sit right with me. Mainly because I’ve known girls like her. They’re the type who will do anything and everything—morals and ethics be damned—to get ahead in life. And given her marks are definitely middle of the class and so far, her submitted work has been nothing extraordinary, I find myself on edge for the rest of the class as I run through the assignments and show some of the top-marked examples on the projector screen.

  “See this one from Ben,” I say, nodding toward the long-haired, smiling guy sitting in the middle of the class, slouched in his seat with a confidence about him I can’t appreciate because it’s exactly how I was in college. You know you’ve got something special and you wear it like a badge of honor, waiting for all the women to come to you. In this situation, I’m Joey, trying to manage the cockiness and balance it with making him realize he still has a lot to learn.

  “Ben has positioned his model so the light streaming in from the window cascades across the right side of her face, highlighting her most captivating features. Your eyes are drawn to hers, the bright blue refusing to let you go. We marked highly for the lens he chose using a shallow depth of field to ensure the subject was the only focus. And you know what they say; the eyes are the window to the soul.”

  “I wouldn’t mind looking into his soul,” I hear whispered from the group of girls in the front row, their ringleader being none other than Chelsea Barnes.

  I don’t acknowledge the comment but whoever said it wasn’t as discreet as they thought they might be if the murderous gaze on Ronnie’s face is anything to go by.

  “And I’ve got one more image to show you by Veronica Nelson.” I fight off a smile when her expression changes to one of wide-eyed shock. I turn back to click on my laptop and bring up Ronnie’s absolutely stunning image of a homeless person sitting down against a stone wall at an L station downtown.

  I face the class again. “Now, I want you to call out any feeling or emotion this photo invokes when you look at it.”

  “Powerful.”

  I nod at an adult student sitting near the middle of the class.

  “Also, powerless,” another student says.

  “That’s a good one,” I say, and the answers keep coming.

  “Sadness.”

  “Loss.”

  “Hurt.”

  “Someone needs a sandwich.”

  My eyes snap to one of the girls sitting with Chelsea. “Monique, is it?”

  She nods, her smirk belying her tense body language.

  “How does this image make you feel like ‘someone needs a sandwich’? I’m sure the rest of the class who actually care about photography, are interested in how you would get such a feeling looking at such a hard-hitting image?”

  To her credit, she slouches down in her seat, as if wishing she could crawl into a hole and disappear. But one of the perks of being a professor is not making things easy for students. My job is to challenge them, after all.

  She opens her mouth but wisely chooses to close it, opting for silence.

  “No insight? Okay. Maybe we should think about our observations and how they might sound before shouting them out next time,” I say to her, earning a meek nod before I turn back to the class.

  Feeling my phone vibrate in my back pocket, I discreetly glance to the back of the class and find a certain student with her phone in her hand.

  I return to the task at hand. “One of the first things I’ll say about this image is the decision to go black and white with this photo. Black-and-white images often aid in evoking emotions and feelings more than full-color ones. The subject just by himself is interesting and his stance—albeit in his natural, unposed state—also helps in telling the story. Lastly, the wide aperture creates a shallow depth of field where the man, his emotions and expression are our sole focus, and everything else around him is blurred, which is a reversal of some of the realities of life. How often do people like this blur into the background, with our own lives in full focus?” I let out a breath because I may have gone a little overboard with my description, but Ronnie’s vision, was fucking inspired. I wasn’t with her when she took it, and I hadn’t even seen the image unt
il earlier today when Joey called me to pick up her assignment and showed it to me.

  I look at the clock on the wall and see there’s only a minute to go.

  “Okay, that’s your two assignments done for the class, and now all that’s left to do is complete your portfolio tasks and hand them in on the last Monday of the semester. We’re out of time, but if anyone has any questions, you’re welcome to meet with me during my office hours from three till five today. Otherwise, have a great afternoon, and I’ll see you next week.”

  The quiet room gets louder with scraping chairs and the hum of conversation. Remembering I have a message waiting for me, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I swipe the screen and bring up Ronnie’s mid-class text, wondering what I could’ve done to make her have to message me.

  Ronnie—When we do resume those bedroom activities we both desperately want to but are stupidly holding back on, can growly professor and naughty student be one of our role-plays? Because damn, sir, that was HOT.

  I bite my lip to hold back a groan before looking up, hoping to catch her somewhere—anywhere—before she exits the room, but of course her seat is empty, and she obviously chose to leave me wondering exactly how hot she found my student chastisement.

  Jax—Nice disappearing act, naughty student. Do you know how inappropriate my reaction to your text is?

  Ronnie—I’m sure you’ll enjoy acting it out in future, sir. I look forward to it. I’ll even wear a short skirt and bend over for you.

  Jax—I’m still standing at the front of the room!

  Ronnie—And I’m heading to the computer lab for a few hours. If you’re lucky, I’ll swing by your office after five and you can channel your frustration then.

  Jax—If only.

  Ronnie—You’re getting closer, Ken. If there was a medal for most improved in the art of chasing, you’d be the proud recipient.

  Jax—I’m looking forward to the prize when I win.

  I can’t help but smile when her reply comes through.

  Ronnie—Good things come to those who wait… also those who masturbate.

  That makes me bark out a laugh, earning weird looks from the last few stragglers heading out the classroom door.

  Jax—If there was a prize for THAT, I’d be first in class.

  Ronnie—That’s a competition where we’re evenly matched.

  That definitely doesn’t help my current physical predicament, and it’s a good few minutes until I can get up out of my chair and leave the room after that.

  Although, all I can think about is how fucking fantastic it’s going to be—and how long we’ll need to lock ourselves away—when I do win the chase.

  I’m thinking a whole week at this rate.

  Working alongside my brothers on a hot summer Saturday is exactly what I need to clear my head.

  “Are you working or mooning over your girlfriend? Because you’ve been sanding that same spot for almost ten minutes.”

  I blink and turn toward Jamie’s smirk.

  “Barbie?” I blurt out, unwisely. Jamie’s eyes widen, and Bry, Cohen, and Ezra stop what they’re doing and turn to me before all four of them start laughing.

  “You call her Barbie?” Cohen splutters. “Just when I thought I’d heard it all.”

  “It’s a long story,” I mutter.

  “Let’s make it a short one,” Ez says.

  “It’s to do with the house. It looks like Barbie’s Dream House. The name kind of stuck.”

  “And let me guess: you’re Ken?” Jamie says with a grin.

  “And I’m GI Joe,” Bryant announces with a smirk.

  I narrow my gaze at my twin. “Like hell you are.”

  “Please tell me that it’s not some twisted, dirty role-play you two have got going on?” Jamie says, returning to the trim he’s sanding.

  “You wish,” I retort.

  “Nope. Really don’t,” he groans. “TMI, brother. There are things I really don’t need to know.”

  “Well, you’ll be pleased to know it’s not some kinky cosplay we do, because we’re not sleeping together,” I say, before realizing what I’ve said and who I’ve said it to. Again, all four of them freeze and spin their heads around like I’ve just declared I’m Barney the fucking dinosaur.

  “Say what now?” Bryant asks.

  “Can’t deal the deal, young Jaxon?” Ez says, his lips twitching as he crosses his arms over his chest.

  Co snorts and shakes his head. “How is that possible? This is Jax the closer. He’s never met a woman he wants who he can’t close the deal with.

  “It’s not that we haven’t; we have. Once.”

  “In my guest room,” Jamie rumbles.

  I chuckle. “Okay, yes, at the engagement party.”

  “Already sterilized it,” Jamie announces.

  I sigh, shaking my head. “What I mean to say is that we’re taking things slow.”

  “Meeting her parents isn’t taking things slow,” Jamie adds.

  I look first to Bryant and then to Jamie, both of them conspicuously quiet.

  Jamie studies me before a slow-growing half-grin appears. “She’s making you work for it, isn’t she?”

  “She’s making him chase her,” Bryant says, finally entering the conversation.

  I narrow my eyes at my twin. “So much for having my back.”

  “I have your back, big brother,” he says. “Just not at the expense of everyone else being able to give you shit.”

  I flip him the bird. “Thanks, Bry.”

  “Any time.” His grin is fucking huge now.

  “And nothing since then?” Ez presses. Usually I don’t have an issue with sharing things with the guys, but not about Ronnie. Just like how Jamie has never talked about April in that way. Maybe he’s talked about her with Ez, just like I’d consider talking about Ronnie with Bry or Cohen, one-on-one, but not like this.

  “Let’s say she likes to be pursued, and it just so happens that I get off on doing the pursuing. But only because it’s her.”

  “It’s not like you don’t know each other,” Co says. “Exactly how much chasing is really necessary? She’s been around us for more than a year.”

  “And Jax stupidly avoided anything other than polite conversation that entire time until he had a few Jacks under his belt at Jamie and April’s engagement party and I gave him the push he needed,” Bry explains.

  I sigh and shake my head, waving my arm his way. “Should I just let you tell everyone how it went down? I mean, you seem to know everything,” I say with a laugh.

  He chuckles. “I’m done now. As you were.”

  “What I wanna know is how will you know if you’ve won? I mean, what’s the prize gonna be?” Ez says. “Because it sounds like you already claimed her trophy.”

  That makes all of us laugh again.

  “And this is why you’ve got how many ex-wives now?” I muse.

  Ez chucks a clean paintbrush at my head, which I thankfully duck just in time.

  “Maybe I’ve just got shit taste,” he says, walking over to the cooler in the middle of the room and lifting the lid. He pulls out a beer and hands it to Jamie.

  “Or good taste and bad decision-making skills,” Jamie says, nodding and taking the offered bottle from Ez’s hand.

  “Or I’m just going to stay single and play the mid-life crisis angle.” He grabs another and another, until all five of us are standing in a wide circle, taking a much-needed drinks break.

  “Right. Good luck with that one,” Co says. “Women are just trouble, full stop. Hard to understand. Hard to make happy. Just hard.”

  That piques my attention. Cohen is the most tight-lipped one out of all of us, whereas Abi and I are the loud, outgoing ones. Bry is somewhere in the middle, and Jamie and Co are the more brooding, introspective, quietly intense ones. They do have their moments when they let the rest of us in though, and apparently, this is one of those times. I’m reminded
about how Cohen grumbled about women in general at golf a few weeks ago, and I meant to talk to him about it whenever I next saw him alone. Turns out I had a bad brother moment and never followed up.

  “Wanna talk about it?” I ask, turning serious for a spell.

  “Nah,” he says, taking another swig of his beer. “It’s just a communication breakdown. Or more like a lack of communication.” He pauses and I think he’s done. But he’s not. “I mean, you think you’re on the same page, and then suddenly it seems you’re reading an entirely different book.”

  “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone?” Jamie says.

  “I’m not. Don’t worry about it. I’m just venting.”

  “Well, whenever you wanna unload, you know where we are,” Bry adds, saying it for all of us.

  “Right. Well, if we’re done with the brotherly bonding portion of this break, should we get back to it?” Ezra says, changing the subject.

  “I do have one thing I need to ask you about. Not Ronnie-related. It’s more unwanted attention from a student.” That gets Bryant’s attention.

  “And you didn’t tell me about this because?” he asks, quirking a brow.

  “Because I’ve been trying to ignore it but my gut feeling about it isn’t going away.”

  “Okay. So, what has she done?” he asks,

  “Nothing much. Yet. She called in during my office hours on Thursday to ask questions about her grade for the last assignment. I know it comes with the job, and both you and Joey warned me about being aware of certain situations and avoiding others. It’s hard to explain. She made it clear that she really wanted to do well in the class and would love any chance to earn extra credit and improve on her performance.”

  “Okay…”

  I swallow hard before continuing, because this is the part that concerns me the most. “She also mentioned being willing to meet me off-campus for one-on-one help like I gave Ronnie.”