Epilogue
Iris
Two years later
Warm sunlight spilled out on the back patio when I stepped out into the summer morning carrying two cups of coffee. I carried them carefully to where Noah sat on the patio porch stoop, long legs bent at the knees casually as he gazed out across the backyard.
My heart lifted at the sight of him. Two years had flown by us, but I still never got tired of waking to find him out on the back patio shirtless and allowing the sunlight to warm him up.
I reached around him to place the coffee cup in his hand before taking a seat next to him on the patio.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling at me. “I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, returning the smile. “What are you doing out here?”
He tilted his head back to look up at the cloudless sky above us. “Enjoying the summer heat after the bitch of a winter and spring we just had.”
Winter had been a brutal season this year. It snowed non-stop followed by arctic temperatures that made it into history books. That had continued all the through the spring months until the approach of summer finally won a few days ago.
My shoulders were already burnt from spending the past few days outside with Noah cleaning up the yard, but the heat felt delicious as I leaned my head onto his hot shoulder.
“Amen to that,” I said, eyes slipping closed. “I thought summer would never come with the weather we were having.”
“You don’t have any clients this morning, right?”
I sighed blissfully. “No, thankfully. I kept this weekend completely free to enjoy it with you.”
“Good,” he said. I felt his warm lips press against my head in a kiss. “Remember when we thought you wouldn’t be able to graduate two years ago? Times have changed, my dear. For the better.”
I didn't like to think about everything that had happened two years ago. It was still a painful memory at the back of my mind, despite how much Noah and I had grown from it.
We were one of the “lucky” couples from what I overheard when people talked about us. We had certainly gone about things counter clockwise, but at the end of the day, we both had each other. That was all that mattered.
“Yes,” I said, opening my eyes to take in the green grass. A few patches were still yellow, but the melting snow had helped with watering. “It’s funny how things worked out the way they did. No one thought we’d stay together.”
“Only two people did,” Noah corrected gently. “If I remember, Jen and Hunter were our biggest supporters throughout that time.”
I smiled at the mention of our two closet friends. Jen would be graduating from PHU next year with her English degree. Both Noah and I planned to be in attendance, despite our feelings for Miles.
“They were,” I agreed. “Jen graduates next year. It’ll feel weird going back to that campus after what happened.”
“Just tell Miles to fuck off,” Noah said, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice. “That’s what I’ve done repeatedly whenever he reaches out about the cursed rugby team. Deleting emails doesn’t even work anymore after two years.”
I laid a hand gently on his tanned forearm to coax him to look up at me. “First off, I know you don’t look at the rugby team that way. You still love that sport. Secondly, he still emails you about that?”
“Every couple of weeks he sends one offering different prices for it.” Noah grinned at me suddenly. “I’ve heard from Kale that Miles’ job is on the line. I think he is trying to get a championship under his belt before he’s booted out in hope that it saves his ass.”
“Could be,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. “None of that would surprise me if it was the truth. He’s greedy for authority.”
Which was humorous now, considering I had gone on to get a degree in accounting while Noah signed a publishing deal with a company in New York, and also accepted a teaching position at the University of Utah. Back then, Miles had seemed like the only authority in the world capable of making our lives a living hell.
“We should go,” Noah said, resting a hand heavily on my bent knee. “We promised your mother we would be over for lunch today.”
“Right,” I said, and looked away when he turned to look at me. I knew that would catch his attention, but I couldn’t help it. It was still an old habit to dread going to my mother’s house.
He arched an eyebrow when I turned to look at him. “What’s with that tone of voice?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed out, shrugging helplessly. “Old habit to feel dread.”
“Your mother has been sober for over two years, remember? She’s been doing well for a long time now.”
Two years of recovery and sobriety. I still couldn’t believe that my mother had accepted the offer of help when Noah called in a few favors to a clinic in California. “I’m tired of feeling like this,” she had told me at the time. “I want to break free from this hell.”
And that was exactly what she had done after 60 days in rehab. I had been apprehensive with her coming out, but she’d never picked up a bottle again. My mother was slowly coming back to the person I believed her to be and missed dearly. It was nice picking up the phone to call her about something and have a lucid conversation.
“I know. It’s just a habit, is all,” I said, getting to my feet. “Let’s get showered and ready to go before we’re late to this luncheon you two planned behind my back. I still think you two are being secretive over something.”
Noah flashed me a dizzying grin as he rose to his feet gracefully. He tapped me on the nose playfully in passing.
“No secrets between us, darling. Our number one rule, remember?”
I followed him skeptically into the cool house. I had no idea what my mother and Noah were up to, but they were spending an awful a lot of time together whenever I was at my job as a certified public accountant. They met up randomly during the days whenever I was too busy to figure out what they were up to.
Two hours later, thanks to Noah’s frisky grabs in the showers turning into something more, we pulled up into my mother’s driveway with wide smiles on our faces. The front yard was freshly mowed, and the smell of cut grass thick in the air when I stepped out with a bowl of salad in my arms. Sprinklers were misting at the corners of the yard as I walked up the pathway to the front door.
I knocked once before stepping inside. I still found myself bracing for a mess of rotten food and dirty dishes, but not this time. Not for the past two years. The floors were freshly vacuumed, candles were burning on the coffee table, and everything was neat and tidy. I let out a relieved breath as Noah slipped by me to head straight toward the kitchen where my mother finished seasoning a few steaks with salt and pepper.
“You’re both running a bit late today,” she commented, a smile tugging at her red lips.
She embraced me when I set the bowl of salad on the kitchen counter. While still very petite, it was a relief to feel meat on my mother’s body when I hugged her back. I inhaled deeply to only smell perfume and summer air in the strands of her wavy hair that hung loose about her shoulders.
“Noah took forever in the shower,” I explained, and ignored the look he sent searing in my direction. “What can we do to help you out, Mom?”
“I’ve got it all prepared here,” she said. “Why don’t you two go out on the porch? I’ll get you us some coffee to enjoy while we are out there.”
“Sure. Let me-” I cut off when I turned to find Noah winking at my mom, who returned the gesture.
No secrets my ass. The two of them were scheming something together like I had suspected for the past few months. Neither one of them wanted to admit it, either. Whenever I brought it up to Noah, he either changed the subject entirely, or told me to stop being paranoid about it.
Irritation swept through me when they both looked at me with guarded expressions. “What are you two up to?” I demanded. “I know you two have been planning something because for the past two months, I’ve heard you both whispering to one another whenever I stepped out of the room.” I wagged a finger at them. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you two meeting up the other day in town. You’re lucky I had a client in my office, or else I would’ve followed you both to figure out what is going on.”
“Nothing,” Noah said. He grabbed ahold of my elbow and pulled me toward the sliding glass doors. “Why do you always have to be suspicious of everything we do?”
I ignored my mother’s laughter. “Because you two are up to something,” I said, defensively. “I know it. I don’t like secrets, Noah. You know that.”
“I know that.”
“So, what is the secret then?” I asked, gazing at them both. “What are you two planning behind my back? My birthday was four months ago, and-”
“Just be quiet for a moment,” Noah cut in over the tirade, tugging me towards the patio. “Trust me. Have I ever done something that made you question me?”
I relaxed at that good point. “No. I just don’t like being left in the dark here.”
“You won’t be in the dark in a minute.”
He opened the sliding glass door and pulled me out by my hand, despite me dragging my feet in the process. I opened my mouth to reply, but stopped short when something soft brushed against my bare toes. I glanced down to the find rose petals, millions of them, scattered along the entire patio.
Speechless, I looked up at Noah as he grinned widely at me. Patio lights twinkled in the trees, swaying slightly when a warm breeze filtered through the backyard. The smell of jasmine and roses filled my lungs.
“What is going on?” I asked, breathlessly.
My heart hammered hard in my chest when Noah clasped both my hands in his. Pressing a tender kiss to them, he looked up at me intensely while we stood in the center of the patio with rose petals brushing against our toes.
“We went into this relationship backwards,” Noah said, softly. “Two years ago, you walked into my classroom, and I knew right there and then you were going to be a part of my life no matter what happened. Everyone tried to bring us down. We didn’t have the best examples in our lives to make relationships work.
“We got through everything together despite people telling us that our relationship would never work. Neither one of us knew what to do when it came to relationships, but we figured it out together along the way.”
Tears filled my eyes instantly when he sank down onto one knee. Breathless from the adrenaline shooting through my veins, I turned to look at my mom in sheer surprise. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, as well, and she nodded encouragingly at me with a watery smile.
“Iris.” I looked back down to take in the small black box in Noah’s palm. My heart threatened to burst open from the joy shooting through me. “I promise to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to keep our relationship working if you would be my wife.”
He opened the box to reveal a sparkling engagement ring. Two years together, and we had figured it out together. I looked down at Noah through the tears in my eyes. There was no one else I ever imagined I could spend the rest of my life with. I loved him more and more every day.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, I’ll be your wife.”
Noah slid the ring onto my finger before rising to his feet. I stared down at it for a moment with a hammering heart and watched the sunlight sparkle off of the large diamond. His arms slid around my waist, and I let myself fall into him as I always did.
We kissed each other as the summer breeze swirled around us. The smell of roses clung to the air, and I knew what the definition of true happiness was right there and then. It was standing there with someone’s hand in your hand, and knowing that everything would be all right, no matter what happened.
It was blind fate like that.
That’s the end of the Naughty Professor. Below I included 5 of my previous books to read as a free bonus.
BAD PROFESSOR
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
CHAPTER ONE
heard my own heels clicking fast across the foyer floor. The next song came over the living room speakers and I breathed a sigh of relief. Addictive rhythms ran through the crowd and grabbed hold of both faculty and students. Other than the occasional tapping toe and slight bounce of the head, it was hard to see, but the party had hit the right tone.
Maybe party wasn't the right word. There was plaid tweed, too many khakis, and a wide array of sweaters. It was definitely an official Landsman College sanctioned gathering. The Dean of Students tried every year to introduce the Honor Council nominees to the faculty in a fun way. This year, fueled by a joke list of movies he was told to watch over the summer, Dean Dunkirk had announced a house party.
Students snuck beers or spiked lemonades in the prerequisite red plastic cups, while faculty drank aged wine or fine spirits out of the same. The music was a mash-up of classic acoustic guitar rock, and toned-down student favorites. I had even moved some of the furniture aside and made hang-out spots with over-sized throw pillows. Ping pong was a big draw on the back, three-season porch. Mason jars of tea lights added a simple elegance and the food was easy, grill-inspired finger foods.
Everything was perfect, and I searched for something to do. I imagined being a full-blown journalist and swept the collegiate crowd again in search of headlines. As I smiled and mingled, I wrote leads in my head.
Cut from the same cloth, student and coach wore the same sweater.
Endless summer, English professor returns from California vacation and continues her taste for Napa wines.
"Is that her bored smile?" Jasmine asked the petite girl beside her.
"I can't tell; I think it's pasted on." Lexi's short brown curls bounced as she tipped her head, studied Clarity, and flipped to the other side.
"Very funny. Where have you two been?" I asked my best friends.
"A little pre-party with some football players." Jasmine's tall, willowy figure shuddered with delight. "Looks like it's going to be a good season."
I couldn't fault my friends, but I focused on the house party. "You were supposed to be here helping me."
Jasmine tossed her blonde hair. "Like you needed us. Everyone's having an honorably great time. More importantly, have you decided what you're doing for Thanksgiving break? I vote we stay on campus and enjoy some of the real parties. No offense, Clarity."
I laughed, "None taken. I'm sticking around for break so I can get a head start on some of my journalism classes. Intermediate News Reporting is going to be a big step up."
Lexi rolled on her tip toes to nudge Jasmine in the ribs. "We heard the one to look forward to is Multi-Media Production and Storytelling."
"Oh yeah," Jasmine's eyes sparkled. "The, uh, syllabus looks really, really good."
"Maybe that's why she's going to stay on campus with us during break," Lexi said. "You know, so she can attend her professor's office hours."
"Are you saying the professor's supposed to be hot?" I asked. "You know that little fantasy doesn't work for me. The Dean of Students is my father, remember?"
"All we're saying is take some good notes for us. We want to hear every detail," Jasmine grinned.
I rolled my eyes. "We're past junior high, right? Last time I checked, we were juniors in college."
Lexi collapsed against my arm and giggled harder. "Hey, we can't all be fulfilled by careers alone."
"Speaking of fulfillment, you should have seen the new quarterback," Jasmine said.
I sighed as I saw a guest empty a wine bottle. "Look, I've got to go restock the bar. Are you going to stick around for a while? Please?"
"Ooh, she wants to hear about the quarterback," Lexi winked. "I guess we can stick around for a while."
"You have to, Lex; you're nominated for Honor Council," I reminded her.
"Oh, shit, that's right."
Jasmine dropped to the sofa in a new fit of giggles and dragged Lexi down with her. I took a quick spin through the dining room to see if anyone needed anything. Conversations were relaxed, red plastic cups were full, the silver trays of food were still over half full, and everyone was engaged.
The tall, brunette economics professor broke from her department friends and strode across the dining room. She paused near the back hall, under the stairs, then turned around as if she had forgotten something. The other female professors fluttered when she returned and their heads bent together to discuss something.
One of the French professors watched with a frown as his wife took the long way to the bathroom by going through the back hall. I could tell from a few other glances that some gossip was centered under the stairs. I clipped across the hardwood floor to a better vantage point.
When I turned around, the room kept spinning. The man standing half in the shadows, leaned against the built-in dresser under the stairs, and stood out from the Landsman College crowd. Long legs in dark denim stretched down to artfully scuffed Italian boots. His crisp, white shirt stood out under a charcoal sport coat. A thick brush of dark stubble covered his square jaw and black, glossy hair rioted on his head despite the short cut.
He smiled and his metallic gray eyes touched me like a live wire. I hoped the jolt wasn't noticeable, but his smile widened and fried my circuits.
Alright—I see what the fuss is all about. I forced myself to turn back to the diminishing bar. There, I busied myself with unloading full bottles of wine from a box hidden in a corner cabinet of the dining room.
It was impossible to ignore the electric hum of him behind me. I caught myself glancing back under the stairs. He wasn't talking to anybody, but seemed content observing. Then his magnetic eyes touched me again.
Now I have to go talk to him, I prodded myself. I have to ask if he needs anything, that way he'll think I'm attentive, not attracted to him.
I determined the voltage that played along my skin had to do with not eating enough while playing hostess. It was not the direct effect of watching his white button-up shirt shift over a tanned chest.
"Can I get you anything?" I asked the sinfully handsome man.
He leaned farther back and scrubbed a hand over his chin as he looked at me. "How about your name? I'm Ford."
The texture of his voice played a line of shivers down my back. "Nice to meet you, Ford. I'm Clarity."
One thick, black eyebrow raised, but his lips curved in appreciation. "Just what I need."
"I'm heading to the bar; I'll bring you back a drink.” I fought off a rising blush.
I left before he could say anything. I'd seen his empty glass and decided to take a chance. For some reason, I wanted an excuse to pull myself together and talk to him again.
Jasmine's arm caught me around the kitchen door and hauled me inside. "Who was that you were talking to?" she asked.
Lexi's petite hands swatted Jasmine away. "I'm hoping he's a new student. Right? Why else would he be at the party?”
"He looks older than a student. More mature," I said.
My friends both bounced up and down. "Finally, someone more inspiring than journalism class," Lexi cheered.
"Oh, stop, he's just like any other guest," I lied and turned to kitchen island where a long tray acted as a casual bar.
I screwed up my eyes and fought past the image of his dark hair and shadowed jaw. There was no point in remembering the loose buttons down the neck of his crisp, white shirt, nor imagining the tanned, broad chest beneath. I couldn't remember what he was drinking, so I filled a lowball glass with Scotch. It was my father's favorite.
I wove through the crowd back towards the dining room. Jasmine and Lexi were wrong: I was interested in him purely in a journalistic way. He was the most intriguing lead so far and I wanted to practice my interview skills.
Running over possible questions in my head, I almost ran into a fellow student. Libby Blackwell's dyed-blonde hair fell over her brown eyes.
"Sorry, Clarity," she snapped.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Libby was not a close friend, but our schedules had overlapped here and there the past two years.
Libby tossed her hair back. "No. My ex-boyfriend is completely ignoring me. I mean, who ignores this dress?" she asked.
The deep V-neck she flaunted was unavoidable, but obviously it was not catching the attention she wanted. "That's too bad," I said.
She smirked. "Too bad for him. I love it when men play hard to get." She handed me her drink while she fluffed up her hair and yanked down the neckline of her dress. "As if he's going home with any of his stuffy colleagues."
"Wait, are you talking about a professor?" I almost sloshed her drink over. "That's totally against the honor code."
"Don't be so naive, Clarity. What do you think makes it so hot?" Libby asked with an unrepentant wink.
I handed her back her drink and slipped through the crowd. Libby Blackwell didn't hide her distain for the honor code even as she wanted to win a place on the council. That's why I didn't want to date—it distracted from the whole point of college. I wanted to be a journalist, not a conniving ex or a strategic flirt.
The strong whiff of Scotch reminded me of my errand and a flurry of excitement blew around in my stomach. I was going to interview Ford and see what kind of story he would make. That way I would have something prepared on the first day of class.
All my clever questions fled when I stepped under the wide archway and joined him in the small nook next to the back stairs.
Ford stood up this time, his glossy black hair almost brushing the wood-paneled ceiling. I tipped my head up and estimated he was 6'2" with a taut, muscular build. The charcoal sport coat clung to his wide shoulders and showed the sinewy stretch of strong biceps underneath.
"I thought you might like Scotch," I said.
"Good observation, Clarity," Ford said. He slipped his empty glass onto a shelf and took the fresh drink. "I'm impressed."
I made a note to clean up that stray glass later, then met his flint-gray eyes. "So, Ford, what do you do?"
Something flared in his expression, but he cooled it with an easy smile. "You're sharp; want to see if you can guess?" he asked.
"Challenge accepted," I said. I walked a semi-circle around Ford and back. "You've got more confidence than a student, you're too bored to be a professor, and you can’t be an administrator."
He turned his back on the party and turned up the wattage of his smile. "Really? Then why am I here?"
"Oh no." My smile slipped. "Are you one of those reporters hoping for some big scandal on campus?" Landsman College was a highly ranked, private college and there was always someone thinking its long-standing traditions were a rock to be turned over.
"A lot of us prefer the term journalist." Ford returned to lean against the built-in dresser by the stairs.
"Me too. I definitely don't want to be called a reporter, or worse, a cub reporter."
Ford put his glass of Scotch between himself and my gesticulating enthusiasm. "You know it's a dying art, right? Not many newspapers around anymore."
"But plenty of news outlets," I said. Before I could ask him which one he worked for, I heard the icy smash of a dropped plate. "Sorry, I better go help with that." In a polite reflex, I reached out and shook his hand.
Ford blinked in surprise then tugged me back as I turned. "Thanks for the drink, Clarity. I owe you one."
Each word was a balloon that buoyed me up as I went to help with the spill. When I saw that fast-moving Lexi already had it under control, I turned right around. I took one step back towards Ford and ran right into a classmate.
"Clarity, hi. Wow, you look beautiful. I mean, beautiful party. You've done a great job." Thomas gripped his red plastic cup with both hands. "I'm looking forward to Editing for Print and Digital Audiences; aren't you?"
"Hi, Thomas. Yeah, I'm taking that class too but I think I'm more excited about Intermediate News Reporting. In fact, I've been searching for headlines this whole party," I said.
Thomas smiled in relief. The gangly journalism major was glad for a game he could handle. Casual conversation seemed to be a challenge for him, at least around me. Now he turned to stand next to me and scan the crowd.
"There's something." He nodded towards Libby's bright, brittle hair. "I heard she had an affair with a professor her freshman year."
"Really," I feigned surprise. From the corner of my eye, I saw Ford leave the shadows of the back hall. He moved across the dining room, dragging appreciative eyes with him, and touched one shoulder to the archway of the living room.
Thomas followed my eyes and frowned. "I'm not sure what his story is, but I'm sure there's something there."
"Do you know who he is?" I asked.
"Sure," Thomas's frown deepened. "That's Professor Bauer; he teaches Multimedia Production and Storytelling. We start his class in the morning. Want me to save you a seat?"
My insides smeared like soaked newsprint. Ford was a professor? The handsome man with electric gray eyes was completely off limits. I swore at Libby for being right; the thought of breaking the honor code with Ford, Professor Bauer, only made the currents of attraction spark hotter. I blushed as my body betrayed my rule-abiding mind.
"Is that your father?" Thomas asked.
"What?" My thoughts struggled back into linear fashion. "Dad! There you are," I called. My father joined us and automatically shook hands with Thomas. "Dad, this is Thomas; he's a fellow journalism major. Thomas, this is my dad, Dean Dunkirk."
"Nice to meet you, Thomas. I like getting to know my daughter's classmates." My father noticed Thomas's nervous sheen of sweat, so he asked an easy question to put him at ease. "How'd you chose journalism?"
"I tried advertising and copywriting, but my advisor helped me realize I'm more analytical than creative. Journalism seemed like the best fit," Thomas said.
My father nodded. "It's good to try things out before you decide what's really right. I keep trying to tell Clarity that, but she won't listen. She's got everything mapped out, always has."
"There is nothing wrong with having a career path," I said.
My father patted my shoulder. "Only if you keep it so narrow that you don't see any of the other possibilities."
"What, like painting?" I snapped.
Thomas shuffled his big feet, but my father took the outburst in stride. "My daughter knows I have a passion for art. There's nothing wrong with wanting a creative pursuit. Not everything has to be practical down to the last detail."
"There's nothing wrong with focus and ambition," I said. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to check on the other guests."
Thomas's big eyes beseeched me to stay, but I turned and wove my way through to the porch. Jasmine and Lexi were teamed up against two guys from the physics department. A few smiles and poses, and the ping pong ball seemed to defy the laws of gravity so the girls could win. They giggled and the guys didn't look sad at all as they got conciliatory hugs.
I stood on the top step but could not walk down and join them. I hung suspended between a room of cheering college friends and an interesting discussion on education funding. The conversations among the faculty were far more interesting, as they all came from diverse and distinguished careers.
I would never fit in with them if I didn't concentrate on my own career path. Yes, declaring my journalism major as a freshman had narrowed my areas of study immediately, but it kept me focused. There was no way I could be accused of being flighty or free-spirited like my absent mother. She never held a job or relationship that kept her in one place, and the consequential loneliness of that choice drove me in the opposite direction. The straight and narrow was just fine.
And that made it no less exciting for me. I turned back to the house and imagined a correspondents’ dinner. I'd get the scoop, I'd capture the perfect quote, and Ford would congratulate me on my keen observations again. No, scratch that. I kicked Professor Bauer out of my daydream.
I couldn't wait to go to press conferences and listen intently to the hidden truths behind the spin. The idea of arguing over interpretations with Ford sent a zip of anticipation up my back. No, again, he was a professor at Landsman College and I was a student. Not only a student, but the Dean of Students’ daughter. I couldn't be daydreaming about him no matter how those metal-gray eyes sparked something inside me.
I pushed the handsome stranger out of my head. Tomorrow would arrive soon enough, and I could still get to know him. Then it would be easier to think of him as a stuffy, probably strict, teacher.
"Clarity, there you are. Professor Bauer, I'd like you to meet my prized assistant and the arranger of this successful party," my father said.
Ford's lethal smile hit me full force. "Nice to meet you, Clarity. Dean Dunkirk has been telling me all about how indispensable you are to him."
He didn't realize I was the dean's daughter; his smile was too warm and he held my outstretched hand a beat too long.
My father didn't notice the caress or the misunderstanding. "Clarity is indispensable, but that doesn't stop me from wishing she would break out, see a little more of the world, get inspired. Perhaps you can help convince her that it's actually better to bounce around a little and try things out before settling down."
Ford's smiled took my temperature up another five degrees. "She needs someone to bring her out of her shell?"
"Exactly," my father said. "Someone to show her it's okay to bend the rules now and then."
"Dean Dunkirk, should you really be talking about bending rules?" I asked.
My father laughed. "Ah, Clarity; she's my voice of reason. I just want you to feel some passion. What kind of person plans so carefully?"
"The person in charge of the desserts table. Please excuse me; there's an empty cookie tray I need to refill." I spun away from my father and Ford. I wasn't ready to see his gray eyes cool when he realized I was a student.
Professor Bauer, I reminded myself as I ignored the empty cookie tray and slipped out the back door of the kitchen. I edged along the sidewalk underneath the kitchen windows. Risking being seen for a second, I dodged into the shadows of the small fruit trees that separated the house from the vegetable garden. The sounds and pressures of the party faded behind me.
One of the few pieces of advice I remembered from my estranged mother echoed in my head. "You wanna know what love really feels like?" she had asked me when I had my first crush. "Imagine you're an outlet and your special someone is a plug. They come along, you realize how you fit together, and ding! The whole room lights up."
It was an odd memory to surface as I hid in the shadowed garden. I was glad for the cool breeze. Now that the temperature was dropping, it was actually starting to feel like fall. A good time to be wrapped up in a blanket in front of a crackling fire. My cheek resting against a strong, steady heartbeat and my hair caught in the rasping caress of a stubbled chin.
What was I doing? I paced around the four raised garden beds. A few stray plants hung on despite the coming frost, but even they could not keep Ford out of my head.
Professor Bauer.
I had to escape the party. Not only had my father neglected to introduce me as his daughter, but he had gone on and on about wanting me to do something reckless and passionate. Ford had listened politely but the wolfish curve of his lips told me he approved of my father's out-of-character advice. I wondered how many glasses of Scotch my father had drank. Maybe I should have dragged him outside to clear his head too.
It wasn't working for me. I paced one more lap around the raised garden beds then flopped onto our sun-bleached bench. Counting backwards was supposed to calm me. I took a deep breath and started at twenty. By fifteen, I was struggling to erase tall, dark, and handsome. By ten, my shoulders relaxed.
At seven, I heard boots on the stepping stones. My eyes flew open and Ford stopped just past the low branches of our old apple tree.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you," he said.
You have no idea, I thought. "Too stuffy in there?" I asked him.
Ford laughed. "A little bit." He strode over and joined me on the bench. "Let me guess: you're escaping from your boss."
"My boss? Dean Dunkirk?" I knew I should correct him, but we were so separate from the party. There wouldn't be any harm in being my own person for just a few, quiet moments. "Yeah, he's a big talker about breaking out and bending rules, but what do you want to bet he'll have a dozen things for me to do when I get back?" I said.
Ford leaned back and stretched his long legs out. He crossed his ankles casually and sighed. "I know it's just the beginning of the school year, but I keep thinking about grabbing the train and heading to the end of the line. Or just riding until I feel like getting off and not caring where I end up. That's bad, isn't it?"
I hitched an elbow up onto the back of the bench and turned to face him. "I regularly dream about packing a bag, getting in my car, and just driving," I confessed.
"Talk to me when you have that bag already packed," Ford said. "We could be past Chicago and on our way west in an hour. Not that I've studied the train time tables or anything." His smile flashed like lightning in the dark garden.
"Why the train?" I asked.
"That way I'm moving, but I can still enjoy the scenery." He looped an arm over the back of the bench next to mine. His hand brushed the ends of my hair. "There are lots of beautiful things I'd like to focus on for a while."
His leg pressed along my thigh and the autumn air couldn't cool me down enough. A blush rose on my cheeks and I was glad for the shadowy garden. "Running away on a train sounds so romantic," I said.
"Exactly," Ford murmured. "Do you think Dean Dunkirk would approve of you jumping on a train for a romantic getaway?"
I pulled back and stood up. "Sorry, I really should be getting back to the party."
Ford stood up. "So, Dean Dunkirk's right, huh? You're always so good?"
"Good night," I said, and fled back to my father's house.