CHAPTER SEVEN
One Week Later
DEREK SWUNG HIS arm around hard and fast, and when his fist connected with the red leather of the punching bag, a bead of sweat fell from the end of his hair to land on his nose.
Fuck this feels good, he thought as his muscles tensed and he bounced on his toes, sparring with his inanimate opponent. It was early Friday morning before class, and he’d wanted to get out of the dive motel room he was staying in before all the other occupants surfaced.
He was wound up real good, and he could sense it in the way his skin felt tightly stretched across his bones. Damn, he’d needed some kind of outlet, and this place was perfect.
It had always been a safe haven for him, and over the last week it had been his go-to. He’d been spending more and more time there, largely in part because he could work out, use their showers, and then hit school.
Just another day in paradise, right? Yeah, hardly.
Just last night at the motel, he’d gone to sleep to the sounds of an argument in the room next door to his. It had ended with a screaming match, a broken bottle, slamming door, and then the familiar sound of a woman crying. Much like the soundtrack from his early childhood. Which was exactly the reason he was down at the gym beating the shit out of the punching bag swaying in front of him.
Life wasn’t cooperating. He was supposed to be living a better life free of his father, not dreading every hour he had to go back to a room that smelled of mildew and likely had some kind of bacteria growing on every surface.
Grrr… He brought his leg around in a wide kick and his foot connected with the bag. A couple more minutes of this and then he’d have to quit and head to the showers if he wanted to get to the library before class. He’d missed his first statistics class last week when he’d been trying to track down a place to stay, and they’d been given a take-home exam. But after working out his money situation and what he could afford to spend on a place to stay, which wasn’t a hell of a lot if he didn’t want to use all his savings, he would try and find some quiet time and knock it out.
Over the last couple of nights he’d wondered, How much can one person possibly take before they fucking lose it? He wasn’t sure, but when he first left his father’s, it had spawned some kind of misguided hope inside him—which listening to last night’s shitstorm had dashed.
There’s no hope here, he thought. Just plain old desperation.
He landed his final punch with more force than necessary, imagining his father’s face pinned to the bag, and as he dropped his arms to his sides, his chest heaved with his exertions.
After his breathing had calmed, he walked over to where his gym bag lay on the ground and grabbed his towel to wipe it over his face. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to keep it together. Just go and shower, then head to school. He could decide what to do from there. But as all the decisions and responsibilities started to pile up on top of him, he felt more overwhelmed by the second.
He glanced at the phone sitting inside his bag and picked it up. There’d been so many times he’d thought about calling Finn this past week, but at the last minute he’d stopped himself. The guy still thought he slept several houses down from him, and there was no way he was going to tell his buddy that he’d left home. Finn would make it his mission to coddle him by having him stay at his house, and there was no way he was going to be a burden to the Finleys.
Yeah, not gonna happen. So instead, he’d kept it to himself.
The other person he’d found himself close to calling was Devaney. When he’d entered his number into the guy’s phone last week, he’d also snuck a look at his contact card and stored the number in his own phone under number one. At the time he’d figured it was good to have in case something bad happened. But now the number seemed to mock him every night, just as it was right then.
Staring at his cell, Derek warred with himself for a few seconds, then decided—fuck it. Right now, he needed someone to talk to, someone to listen. He didn’t want pity; he just needed to get shit off his chest, and he knew there was no way Devaney would coddle him. If anything, he’d get pissed he had his number in the first place.
He swiped the towel over his face again and hit number one on his speed dial.
It rang several times before it connected, and when Devaney’s voice came through the line, the words he said took Derek straight out of his bad mood and slid him right into a good one.
* * *
JORDAN HAD BARELY stepped off his elevator when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He fished his phone out as he walked over to the kitchen area, and when he saw He-Man on the display, he froze and dropped his canvas grocery bags on the tiled floor.
“No he isn’t…” he said as he stared at the vibrating device in his hand, then he shoved that thought aside because he didn’t want to be thinking about Derek and vibrating things in the same sentence.
Not having any idea what to do, Jordan answered the phone and said the first thing that came to mind: “How did you get my phone number?”
When Derek’s chuckle rumbled through the phone, Jordan found himself grinning despite himself.
“Do you always answer the phone in such a bad mood?”
“I am not in a bad mood,” he said, instantly defensive. Then he realized that he did actually sound pissed off.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Well, how nice. Except I wasn’t trying to, and you still haven’t answered my question. How did you get my phone number, Derek?”
“Last week at the gym.”
Jordan was momentarily stunned, and that was when he noticed milk was spilling onto the floor. “Fuck.”
He crouched down and rifled through the bags until he found the carton of almond milk, then Derek said, “Look, I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—”
“Hang on a second.”
“Sure.”
Jordan put the phone on the counter and then picked up the bag and placed it in the sink. He quickly cleaned up the milk and then went back to pick up the phone.
Deciding the rest of the groceries could wait, he took a seat on his couch in the living room and brought the phone back to his ear, curious even as he knew he shouldn’t be. “All right, I’m back.”
“Everything okay?” Derek asked.
Jordan gave an airy laugh before telling him, “Oh yes. There’s no use crying over spilled milk, dahling.”
There was a pause and then, “Huh?”
Letting out a put-upon sigh, Jordan was saddened no one was around to witness the brilliance of his joke. “Oh, nothing. Now, back to this little business of you stealing my phone number. That’s quite the offense, you know. I think they label it under the title ‘stalking.’”
Derek coughed, then asked, “You think I’m stalking you?”
“Are you?”
“Hell no.”
Jordan pursed his lips as he thought about that passionate reply, then asked, “Why? Am I not stalkable?”
Derek sputtered a little, and when he said, “You’re kind of crazy, aren’t you,” Jordan was quick to point out, “Yet you’re the one who went through my phone, stole my number, and called. Don’t be pointing fingers.”
“Fair enough.”
“I think so.” Jordan paused and waited to see if Derek would say anything else, and just when he thought he would have to flat-out ask what he wanted, Derek said softly, “Thank you for picking up.”
Jordan didn’t understand what was going on, but Derek having called at all had thrown him so far off course that he needed the guy to spell it out for him. “You’re welcome. But I haven’t done anything.”
“You answered,” Derek said, and Jordan instantly sobered when Derek’s voice cracked. “That’s everything to someone with nothing.”
Jordan froze at the sincerity behind those words, and then curled his legs under himself on the couch. By some lucky chance he had Fridays off this semester, and after a quick look at the clock he realized if Derek had class that morning, then he was likely running late. It seemed he really was in need of someone to listen to him.
“Well, I’m here, and I answered. So…do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Derek’s laugh was devoid of humor this time around. “Umm, how long you got?”
Jordan frowned. “It’s that bad?”
“It’s pretty fucking close to being that bad.”
“Okay, well, we could always meet up? Coffee?” he offered, even though his brain was saying back away.
“Can’t. I’ve got to go to the library and then class.”
“What about after?” Jordan asked, paying no heed to his conscience, which was screaming, Stop now before this gets out of hand.
“I need to go back to the library after classes today, too. I missed a statistics paper last week because of…something.”
“Well,” Jordan said, “I can always meet you at the library. Just tell me what time.”
“Umm, how about… Fuck,” Derek said, and if Jordan didn’t know better, he would think that he was nervous. “It’ll be tonight, is that okay?”
“That’s fine. I’m sure it won’t be too far past my bedtime.” Jordan’s tongue-in-cheek comment earned him a genuine chuckle from Derek.
“Right. And what time’s that?”
Choosing to ignore the question, Jordan asked instead, “What time should I meet you at the library?”
“How about six?”
“Okay, six it is.”
“Sounds good,” Derek agreed, and then smoothly switched gears to ask again, “So, what time’s your bedtime?”
Jordan laughed. “Is this a distraction technique?”
“Asking you about when you get in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe. Will you answer me if I say yes?”
“No.”
“Well, damn…”
As Derek’s voice tapered off and all that remained was silence, the reason for his deflection remained a mystery even as it lay heavy between them.
“Derek?” Jordan finally said, not wanting to lose sight of the reason Derek had sought him out in the first place.
“Yeah?”
“It’ll all work out. I don’t know what’s bothering you, but whatever it is, we’ll talk it through and work it out. Okay?”
Jordan wondered if what he was saying was a bunch of bullshit or if he really could help this guy the same way that Professor Hamilton had helped him. He hoped for both their sakes it was the latter.
“Yeah, okay. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you at six, Devaney.”
“I’ll see you then.”
When the phone disconnected, Jordan lowered it to the coffee table and got to his feet. He headed back to his groceries, and as he went about putting the food away, he couldn’t shake the thought that whatever it was Derek needed to talk about would be something he might be unable to fix…and then what?
* * *
DEREK YAWNED AS he glanced at the clock on the wall of the library. Fucking A. It was a little after five thirty, and he had no idea how his eyes were still open.
He was exhausted.
Grabbing his backpack off the floor, he unzipped it and fished out his notepad and textbooks. He needed to at least start writing his paper, but all he could think about was getting some much-needed shuteye in a comfortable, safe place.
He closed his eyes for what he thought was a minute then startled awake, sitting up like a jack-in-the-box in his chair. Shit, he’d only meant to doze off for a ten-minute power nap, but as he checked his phone for any missed messages, he saw the time and cursed that forty minutes had passed by just as someone nudged his shoulder.
Derek craned his head to the left, and his eyes travelled up a pair of khaki shorts and an aqua shirt to land on Devaney. He was smirking at him in a way that let Derek know he’d caught him sleeping, and the heat of embarrassment crept up his neck.
“Studying hard, I see.”
Derek swallowed as Devaney walked around the front of his chair and tapped the open page of his textbook.
“At least you weren’t asleep while studying for my class.”
Derek’s eyes tracked his professor as he moved to the aisle opposite him and leaned back against the bookshelf with his arms crossed. He really could pass as one of the students there. Devaney’s chestnut hair had grown a little longer than he’d originally worn it, and lately he’d gotten into the habit of styling the front into that faux-hawk Derek had seen on him in the newspaper article he’d…ahh, enjoyed reading. And damn, he looked really hot.
Derek cleared his throat as he closed his textbook and took a look around to see several students close by, hunkered down over their work, just like he was. He then returned his attention to the man across from him whose eyes were directly focused on his.
Unsettled by the intensity of Devaney’s scrutiny, Derek ran a hand down the top of his thigh and then tapped his knuckles on his knee. “I didn’t know when you’d be here, so I was catching up on—”
“Some sleep?” Devaney supplied, and then walked over to where Derek was seated. He bent down and placed his hands on both arms of the chair, effectively blocking him in where he sat. That wasn’t such an easy feat for someone of his size, but again, that never did seem to deter the professor. “I’m not here to bust your ass, Derek, though I’m fairly certain a little discipline in your life wouldn’t go astray. You called me here because you wanted to talk. Am I right?”
Derek swallowed. This close up, he noticed that there were flecks of gold around Jordan’s— Waitttt up. When did I start thinking of him as that? As…Jordan?
Had it changed because he was so close that Derek could smell the cologne that lingered over his skin, or was it because Jordan was hovering over him in a way that made Derek want to scoot forward in his chair and press his mouth to the one that had just asked him a question?
He wasn’t sure, but one thing Derek knew for certain was if he did this, if he left with Jordan and laid all of his secrets out for him, then it would forever change things going forward.
* * *
ON HIS WAY over to the library, Jordan had gone back and forth on his motives for why he was doing this. But each time he talked himself out of following through, he thought of Professor Hamilton and her words to him: “Find what makes you work the hardest, and dare yourself to make a difference.”
And that’s what he was doing. His motives were well intended, Jordan knew that, but as he lingered mere inches from the man peering up at him, he knew those same motives, at least some of them, were less than pure.
“Yes,” Derek finally said, his voice pitched so low that if Jordan hadn’t been as close as he was he might have missed it. “I want to talk.” Then he was moving.
Derek shifted forward in the chair, causing Jordan to back up, and as he straightened to his full overwhelming height, Jordan raised his head so he could look up into Derek’s face and suggested, “Then let’s go.”
Side by side they headed for the exit, and when Jordan caught a crooked smile tug at Derek’s lips, he raised an eyebrow at him in question.
“You’re kinda short. You know that?” Derek said.
Jordan’s mouth fell open with indignation, and then he jutted his chin out, as if it would help add inches to his height. “And you’re kinda bulky.”
“Bulky?” Derek said as he pushed through the doors and then held one open. Jordan sashayed by, and as it shut behind them they stepped out into the cooler night air. “It’s called muscular, and I’ve worked damn hard for it.”
“And this”—Jordan gestured down his own body with a sweep of his hand—“is called lean. Not short and not little. Don’t let looks deceive you. I am quite capable of handling you, even with all that extra bulk you carry around.”
When Derek’s eyes tracked down over him and Jordan realized what the hell he’d said, he inwardly groaned and headed for the stairs that led to the parking lot.
“Hey, wait up,” Derek called out, but Jordan wasn’t stopping—hell no. He needed to get in his car and use the time between the drive from there to wherever they decided to go to get himself together.
Professional, he reminded himself. You are a professional.
When he reached his car, he popped the locks and opened the door just as Derek came to a stop beside him. With the door open and between them, Jordan asked, “Where did you want to meet?”
The puzzled look on Derek’s face would’ve usually resulted in some smartass comment from him, but right now, with the night and a weird vibe settling between them, Jordan wanted an answer so he could get in his car and get away from the guy for a minute…or five.
“I thought this was where we were meeting.”
Oh for the love of… “I just assumed we would go and—”
“Grab a coffee?” Derek supplied. “Yeah, I know. But…” Derek’s eyes lowered to his feet and he shuffled back and forth. He appeared nervous all of a sudden. But what Jordan couldn’t understand was why.
Frowning, Jordan suggested, “We don’t have to do this. We can stay here if you like, or go someplace else?”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Derek quickly said, and when Jordan shook his head and offered, “Really, we can go somewhere else—” Derek sighed.
“No, it’s just… Shit,” Derek said as his eyes flicked to Jordan’s car and the penny finally dropped.
Ohh, he has no way to get there. “Derek.”
When Derek didn’t look at him, Jordan said his name again in a tone that brooked no argument, just capitulation. “Derek. Look at me.”
As soon as their eyes met, Jordan’s heart tightened. He looked so…lost.
“Do you need a ride?”
“Yeah,” Derek finally mumbled.
“Okay. Then get in and we’ll track down that coffee, yeah?”
Derek gave a self-derisive laugh. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Hey, don’t question it. Just roll with it and take it while you can. I’m too selfish for it to last long.” He slid in behind the steering wheel as Derek moved to the other side. That was when Jordan popped back out to look across the roof. “Why don’t you stash your wardrobe in the trunk?”
Derek scowled at him. “One bag is hardly a wardrobe.”
Jordan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. The guy had attitude times ten when it came to someone telling him what to do, which shouldn’t be as appealing as it was—but Jordan couldn’t help but get a thrill from the way Derek trudged to the back of the car and grumbled, “Bossy.”
Jordan sat back in the driver’s seat and waited for Derek to climb in beside him, and the entire time he gave himself a stern talking to.
You are his professor. This is about helping him. Nothing more. Nothing more. Nothing. More. Even if he does have one of the sexiest bodies I’ve seen and ink I’d love to trace with my tongue—
“Is there anything else?” Derek said as he bent at the waist to look inside the car. “Sure I don’t need to take my shoes off before I get in?”
“Your shoes can stay, smartass. But leave your attitude on the curb. There’s only enough room in here for one inflated ego, and tonight it’s mine.”
Derek lowered himself into the passenger seat, and when the door closed behind him Jordan became hyperaware of how big Derek was and just how tight the confines of his Z4 were. Jesus Christ.
As if reading his mind, Derek buckled his seatbelt and said, “Tight fit.”
And before he could stop his blasted tongue, Jordan quipped, “That’s what all the boys say.”
Derek’s eyes widened with shock, interest, and what appeared to be a healthy dose of lust, and before Jordan could say something to excuse his flippant remark, Derek got there first. “I didn’t think that’s the way you liked it.”
Jordan opened his mouth about to admonish him, but the guy was already shaking his head as if to say, Don’t even try to deny it. Who the fuck was he kidding? It was too late to take that back.
“How I prefer it isn’t really relevant, is it?”
“No, but you keep bringing it up, so maybe you want it to be relevant.”
Appalled, Jordan shook his head. “I do not keep bringing it up.” Then he scoffed and turned the engine on. “And don’t you think highly of yourself?”
“Am I wrong?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying. But that’s fine. I get it. I just have way too much shit going on in my life right now to try and deny I get a hard-on thinking about you fucking me, sooo…”
Jordan’s jaw fell into his lap at that. “You did not just say that to me.”
“Yeah…I’m pretty sure I did. I mean, I’m just trying to be up front about it with you, otherwise it’ll be all awkward and weird. We both know that my friend is fucking yours—worst secret on the planet. And even though you’re sexy as hell, that’s not why I called. Just in case you thought it was.”
The arrogant little— “Fuck you,” Jordan said, about to tell Derek to get the hell out of his car when he saw Derek’s lips twitching. Jordan’s eyes narrowed as those lips then parted to let free a boisterous laugh.
“You’re way too easy,” Derek said, the joyful sound filling the car. As his mirth overtook him, Derek wiped a tear from his eye, and Jordan found himself laughing right along with the moron. “Oh man, your face. Fucking priceless. You get so worked up. All red, like steam is gonna come out of your ears.”
“I’m so glad you find me amusing, Mr. Pearson,” Jordan replied, adopting his best snotty accent, which made Derek laugh all over again.
“Oh yeah. Please, keep calling me Mr. Pearson like you aren’t thinking about bending me over and giving me a whooping for being such a—”
“Disrespectful brat?”
“Sure.” Derek shrugged and gave him a disarming grin. “A brat, that’s me. And there’s that word again.”
“Respect?”
“Yeah. It’s important to you, huh?”
“Hmm…” Jordan squirmed a little in his seat as he put the car into reverse. When Derek’s large hand came down over his on the gear stick, Jordan’s eyes flicked up to see that Derek had returned to being serious.
“I meant what I said to you that first day. I respect the hell out of who you are. Not only as a teacher, which you rock at, but as a human being. You’re a pretty cool guy. If anything, that only increased with the semester I studied under you. Well…not under you.”
Jordan rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the way his pulse sped up and his chest filled with pride at Derek’s admission. It meant a lot to know that he was touching a student’s life through his teachings.
He slowly removed his hand and placed it on the steering wheel, ten and two, and when he finally trusted his voice again, he said, “Thank you. That means a lot. Now, if you’re quite done…”
“I am.”
“Let’s go and get that coffee.”