My consciousness felt a bit fuzzy, and for a second, I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on. Then, it registered that I was in bed with McKinley. My first sense was of the steady rhythm of the bed rocking beneath me. There was a warmth along my right side, a drumming in my ear. I stiffened as I recognized what was happening and realized the warmth came from McKinley’s body as she lay against me, her head against my chest. She opened her eyes for a glimpse of me, and I looked straight into the brightest eyes I’d ever seen in my life. They were as clear as the daytime sky and I could see my reflection in them perfectly.

Not able to hold her gaze, I let my own wander to the soft hair hanging in loose curls across her shoulders, her high cheekbones along her smoothly curved jawline, then down to her nose and her soft, sumptuous lips. For a second, I thought I caught a glimmer of malice in her eyes before they again became sweet and calming again.

As I moved my hand down the crease of her back and towards her ass, I was shocked to find that she was wearing jeans.

“This can’t be happening…” I thought in bewilderment.

Glancing around, I saw that we were not in a bedroom, but traveling across a vast, barren landscape, which looked like a great expanse of desert. The sun was setting. Darkness would descend soon, and I would still be lost as to what was going on.

I focused my gaze back to McKinley, and I was now on top of her. Her hand rose to caress my face, but then she glared at me, full of fury, and in the blink of an eye, everything around me, including her, disappeared in a flash.

The next thing I knew, I was back in my bed, but McKinley wasn’t next to me. The only thing there was a sheen of cold sweat on the sheets that were stuck to my back. That was the third time this week. These recurring dreams about McKinley were really getting to me, and I knew it was my conscience, reminding me of how much of a jerk I was.

It had been two miserable months since I broke things off with McKinley. I had been a wreck since then, mentally curling up in the fetal position and hoping to never, ever face the world again. The only thing that kept me from going under was my job; that was the one thing that momentarily pulled me out of an indefinite slump. Work was the one place that made me feel somewhat okay. And with Casaundra suddenly gone, I had even less to worry about, though I hadn’t gotten away with a clean break.

Not long after Atticus came into my office, there was another knock, and I thought maybe he was back with more news. Instead, Casaundra was standing there with a box full of her stuff, including a plant that was hovering in her face. She had to keep blowing the leaves away from her eyes, which wasn’t doing much to contribute to the look of fury she was trying to maintain.

She dropped the box down on the floor and glared at me. “I guess you think you’re really smart, huh?”

I ran my hands through my hair with a sigh. “I just think it’s ironic that you jumped down my throat and threatened to have me fired when you were doing the same damn thing.”

“It’s not the same thing. You were just having a fling with the girl. I was… whatever. That isn’t the point. It was about you flitting in here and stealing my job. Which, congratulations, it looks like you’ve done for good. I’ll never get work in academics again.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Casaundra. Other than… good luck. And I really do hope everything works out for you.”

She looked at me like I was insane, but she didn’t say anything else. She just picked up her box and left, and that was the last I saw of Casaundra. Ever since, I’d been able to focus on my classes… and tried not to think about how much I missed McKinley. It was especially hard because I had to see her twice a week; as I walked to our final class exam, I couldn’t help but be grateful that the fall semester was ending. That meant only five months or so of running awkwardly into McKinley around campus and then she would be free to pursue her career without the anchor that was me hanging around her neck.

The entire classroom was quiet with the exception of turning notebooks, shifting papers, and pencils scratching against answer sheets. The open-note final exam had started, and I was only giving my students an hour and a half to finish it since it wasn’t especially hard. With all that was going on in my personal life, as much as I tried to separate it from my professional one, I had decided to cut back on the test since my brain was so addled and I was having trouble composing the questions. My students were lucky that I had personal drama going on, because it saved them two more essay questions and twenty-five more multiple choice.

As much pain as it had been causing me, I also hated that I wouldn’t get to see McKinley in class again. Seeing her face twice a week, once during the labs and once during regular class, had begun to gnaw at me and arouse feelings that I knew would never fully go away. But McKinley made a conscious effort to sit farther and farther away from me in class. I couldn’t blame her, but it still hurt like searing hot daggers being driven into my chest. What really made my heart wrench with agony was the way she looked at me when she had no other choice but to do so. And as time went on, she became increasingly distant in class, not sending her weekly email asking for extra credit assignments, not participating at all in class discussions, not even looking in my direction as I was doing a lecture. Her face was always buried in her laptop; the only thing I was able to see was the digital glow off her face, not her beautiful eyes.

I looked at the clock on the back wall, and there were ten minutes left of test time. By this point, about half the class had finished early, dropped their completed exams on my desk, and dismissed themselves. I was oblivious to how many students had actually gotten done ahead of time because my mind was so consumed by McKinley. The stack of exams on my desk was gradually gaining height as more students were finishing up and it snapped me back into the present. The test would be over soon.

Looking out into the crowd, which really wasn’t much of a crowd anymore, there were only a few people left still testing, about nine tops. McKinley was one of them. I was surprised and had expected her to be among the first to finish, but I supposed she was putting diligent effort into the essay questions or double-checking her test before she submitted. I stared at her and a smile began to creep out as I silently admired her conscientious work ethic. I had never anyone as smart or as dedicated as her; it was one of the things I liked most about her.

One of the sophomore girls who had wanted me to ‘guide her study group’ came up to my desk and placed her test neatly on top of the others that were hastily thrown down. She was one of the few in my class who exercised care and attention with all her work, and I appreciated that about her. She was just as meticulous as McKinley.

“Thank you,” I smiled at her. “Have a good weekend, alright?”

“Thanks, Mr. Ramsay! You too,” she replied, waddling away, her humongous backpack bobbing about.

My gaze returned to McKinley, who looked like she was on the verge of finishing up. I saw her pencil move down her paper in small increments, indicating that she was checking her answers.

Another student came up to my desk to drop his test off. “Here you go, sir,” he said with a contented half-grin.

“Thank you,” I said, neatening the pile. “How was it? You struggle at all?”

“Some parts were kind of . . . meh,” he admitted.

“Really? Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, buddy,” I said with a laugh.

“I did study for it, though. I promise,” he said, adjusting the straps on his backpack.

“I believe you,” I chuckled. “I’m going to grade these this weekend, and next week, the grades will be posted. So, no waiting for grades, I promise.”

“Sounds great.”

After he left, I saw that seven students remained. In five minutes, everyone would have to call it quits.

Seconds later, McKinley finally rose, collected her belongings, and walked toward my desk. She was holding her test as if she was going to use it to cut the next person that pissed her off, and I suspected that person was me. My heart imploded as her steps, terse and testy, got louder and closer to me. The whole way, she was looking in my direction, but looking through me. I didn’t know whether to smile, look neutral or just avoid eye contact altogether.

She dropped her test on my desk without even looking at me, turned and walked out of the room.

And I deserved every bit of the scorn she had in her eyes as she walked away from my life forever.