TAVIAN

08.08.15

I stand in the middle of the living room of my new apartment, scanning the area to make sure everything is ready for Lyra’s arrival. Yesterday, I dismissed class early under the guise I was rewarding the students with a Friday afternoon off for their three solid weeks of hard work. But the truth was, I needed to pick up the keys from the leasing office before they closed at 1:00 p.m. Not surprisingly, management had no problem with me wanting to break the lease on my old place, as long as I was upgrading to a larger unit with better views and a bigger month’s rent.

Then I slogged through the dreaded four-hour window of waiting for the delivery truck to bring all the new furniture I ordered earlier this week. Other than my clothes, shoes, and a few framed family photos, I brought nothing with me from the apartment I shared with Annie. It’s time to start fresh, a clean slate, and the last thing I want is for Lyra to feel uncomfortable when she’s here with me.

And I want her here as much as fucking possible.

The clean lines and sharp, ninety-degree angles of the furnishings and décor are appealing to my mathematical mind… and the complete opposite of what I had before, when Annie had demanded to decorate the old place. I love it, and more importantly, I know Lyra will, too. The style reminds me of the mountain house we rented in northern Italy. The house where I made her mine.

Everything else in the apartment is brand spanking new, too—the kitchen shit, sheets, blankets, pillows, rugs, lamps, and even the toiletries in the bathroom. My mom helped a ton, thinking of all the things I didn’t, and not long after the delivery guys left, she showed up to put the finishing touches on the recently renovated two-bedroom unit, including stocking the bathroom with girlie shampoos and soaps.

I’m clearly not the only one who’s excited about Lyra’s first visit to the City of Brotherly Love.

On cue, my phone rings in my back pocket, and before I pull it out and check the screen, I already know who it is. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s waited this late in the morning to call.

“Mornin’, Ma,” I answer.

“Happy Birthday, honey!” she exclaims cheerfully. “How does twenty-seven feel? Any different?”

I take another glance around at my unfamiliar surroundings and laugh at the same questions she asks me every year on this day. But this time, my answer isn’t what it’s been in the past. “Actually, yes. Everything feels very different, but in a great way. I’m ready for different.”

“As long as you’re happy with different, I am, too.” Without even seeing her, I feel the warmth of her smile through the phone. “Do you have everything ready? Did you get a vase of flowers for the dining room table like I told you?”

“No, Ma, I didn’t get any damn flowers for the table. Who even eats there anymore? I want to give her a good impression, but not a false one.” I chuckle as I move toward the master bedroom, needing to grab my shoes from the closet. “But yes to your first question, everything else is ready. You’ll be happy to know I even wiped down the shower after I got out this morning.”

“Good, I knew my years of harping on you would sink in eventually. Now, what about tonight? Remember, you guys need to be there after 6:30, but before 7:00. I think we’ve had about twenty people RSVP.”

I sit on the bed and slide my feet into the sneakers as she prattles on about the birthday dinner. If it were up to me, I would just skip it this year altogether and keep Lyra in bed the entire three days she’s supposed to be here, but I know my mom and others are anxious to meet her.

Much to my surprise, my coworkers and friends—many of the same people who were there when Annie proposed—seem to be genuinely happy about me breaking things off with her. And even happier to find out I’ve met someone who has renewed my enthusiasm for living life to the fullest every day, not just when I’m on my thrill-seeking trips. Not a single one of them has questioned my decision to throw away a solid (well, maybe it wasn’t as solid as I liked to think it was), long-term relationship for the uncertainty of a new, long-distance one.

But they also don’t know Lyra only has a little more than eight months to live.

“All right, son, I guess that’s about it,” Ma says in that tone she uses to wrap up all her phone calls. “I truly can’t wait to meet her, though I do wish you’d bring her by here after you pick her up at the train station. You’d think, being your mom, I’d get an introduction before everyone else.”

“Ma, come on, we discussed this last night. I haven’t seen her in five days, and I already know you’re gonna steal her most of the time tonight anyway. Let me enjoy my birthday with her,” I say while glancing at the clock on the nightstand. A quarter past ten. It’s time to go if I want to be there waiting when she gets here.

Pushing to my feet, I grab my wallet from the dresser and shove it in my back pocket then stride toward the front door. There’s no way in hell I’m taking Lyra to my mom’s right now. She’ll keep us there until we have to leave for dinner, and I’ve got plans for breaking in this new bed and working up an appetite.

“Yeah, yeah, I really don’t need to hear about how you plan to enjoy your birthday with her,” she snickers. “Oh, but before I let you go, I meant to tell you I invited a friend to come tonight—someone I’ve been wanting to introduce you to. I hope that’s okay?”

Not really paying much attention as I search for my car keys, I mumble a “Sure, no problem. Any friend of yours is welcome; you know that.”

“Good! Well, I guess I’ll see you a little later then. I hope you have an amazing birthday with your girl, Tavian. I truly can’t wait to meet her. I love you so much.”

“Thanks, Ma. I love you, too.”

We exchange goodbyes and I hang up just as I locate my keys on the kitchen counter. Hurriedly, I snatch them up, drop my phone in my front pocket, and then take off out the door. It’s time to go get my girl and convince her she should never leave.

The second she steps off the train and I see her long, dark hair blowing wildly around her perfect face, the knots of tension coiled in my gut immediately begin to loosen. Her electric blue gaze locks in on me, and with a relieved smile on her face, she hastily makes her way toward where I stand in the waiting area, one of the suitcases I bought her in Barcelona in tow.

My cock twitches as I drink her in from head to toe. My fingers ache to cup her small, perky tits, and my shoulders yearn for the weight of those long, toned legs to wrap around my neck. My little buttercup has become quite the vocal little vixen in bed over the past couple of weekends I’ve stayed with her, not shy to tell me exactly what she likes and the new things she wants to try. Knowing I’m the first person she’s ever experienced any of it with is such a turn-on in itself, but her enthusiasm and eagerness for all of it… hell, I jack off every night just thinking about it.

She’s mine. All fucking mine.

When she gets about ten feet away, I can’t wait another second and I lunge toward her, knocking over the luggage as I hoist her thin frame against my body and hug the shit out of her. Seeing her isn’t enough; I need to smell her, feel her, taste her. Fuck mathematical theories and statistical conjectures, and there’s no need for thousands of hours of proofs and analyses. The results are constant and consistent. Lyra Jennings is my one in seven-point-two billion.

My mouth crashes down on hers, stealing the air from her lungs, wanting her to need me to breathe as much as I need her. The kiss is intense and impassioned; I lash out with my seeking tongue and bruising lips, punishing her for the five days we’ve spent apart. She gives and I take, unapologetically.

I get lost in her, consumed by my desire, and it’s not until someone wolf whistles and shouts, “Get a room!” that I remember where we are and that we have an audience. Not that I give a shit who sees me greeting my girl with a proper hello, but when she giggles into my mouth and gives my light-brown hair a tug, I finally concede and release her. Sliding her down my front until her feet find the concrete ground, I swallow a growl as she rubs against the length of my swelling shaft.

Fucking hell, this woman makes me feel like a pubescent teenage boy instead of a man in his late twenties.

“Happy Birthday, Professor West.” Lyra chuckles as her gaze drops to the bulge in my jeans. “I’ve missed you, too.”

I sling my arm around her neck and press my lips to the side of her head, mumbling, “You’ve got no fucking idea, Buttercup. I may tie your ass to my bed and never let you leave,” into her soft hair.

Her body melts into mine as she smiles bashfully and her cheeks flush a bright pink. I love how innocent and inexperienced she is, mine to coach and corrupt.

“So what’s the schedule today? Are we doing anything before the dinner tonight?” she asks as I lead her through the train station and out to my compact SUV.

“No set plans,” I tell her while tossing her suitcase into the back, and then I open the passenger door for her to get in. “Anything particular you want to see or do while you’re here?”

With a half-shrug, she slides onto the gray leather seat and fastens her seat belt. “Nothing specific really. I’ve never been here before, so whatever you think. You’re the birthday boy, so you choose.”

Unable to keep my fucking mouth and hands off her, I bend down and steal another kiss from her. “Birthday boy wants to go home and unwrap his present and play with it all day,” I tease, squeezing her thigh. “But I can be patient for a bit longer. I’ll take the long way home and drive you by a few of the not-to-miss Philly tourist spots—Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, stuff like that. If anything catches your interest, we can go back tomorrow and check it out. ‘Kay?”

“Sounds good.”

She peers up at me through her dark lashes, and the 042316 lit up in her pupils flickers a couple of times before fading into a muted gray. The noticeable change in the numbers causes my breath to hitch in my lungs and my heartbeat to stutter in my chest. I’m not sure what the change means, if anything, but I know for a fact it’s never happened before. With anyone.

“Tavian?” she questions, her brow suddenly scrunching up with concern. “Are you all right? Is something wrong?”

I shake my head sharply, trying to cover up whatever uncertainty she saw flash across my face, and reach up to cradle her jaw in my right palm. “No, everything’s perfect, babe. I’m just excited you’re finally here.”

My truthful yet evasive answer seems to appease her as her forehead relaxes and she leans in to my touch. “Me, too.”

After closing her door, I use the half a minute or so it takes to round the hood and get in the driver’s side to pull my shit together. Now isn’t the time to try to figure out what the hell I just saw. This is Lyra’s first visit, and I need to do everything possible to make her feel comfortable. I need her to love it here.

Because I was only half kidding earlier about never letting her leave.