Chapter 2

Devon

I glanced around the beautiful and historic campus of Diamond University. Why had I allowed my dad to push me into attending? Because it has one of the best music programs in the country, you dolt. And it has him.

All I’d wanted to do was flee Minnesota and get as far away from the snow and cold as I possibly could. It seemed the chilly air turned my blood to ice. And I had. For two blissful years, I’d studied at Berkeley but my mom had gotten into a bad car accident and I’d come home for the summer to help out. With her struggling to walk on her pinned leg, guilt had consumed me, so I’d signed up for Diamond’s music program to be closer to home.

It’s only one semester, Devon. You can do it.

Maybe it was that thoughts of him turned my body temp so high I feared spontaneous combustion. I’d welcomed the cold and that’s why I’d decided to make my father’s face light up by going to the same school he’d gone to. I’d accepted a full ride scholarship to finish my undergrad at Diamond as a music major and stay within a couple of hours of my family home.

It had been four years since I’d seen him in the flesh. Oh, but I cyberstalked him. And then I masturbated to the soulful expression on his face. I’d learned my own body to illicit thoughts of Judge Copeland. My hands knew every curve of his face and every plane of his muscles. Except they only knew them in the confines of my dark fantasies.

Four years of me wanting a man I knew I could never have. And never having anyone else because of it. Yup. A virgin college junior at twenty and a music geek to boot. But only my best friend, Annie, knew the sordid truth. She even knew about Judge because I’d had to finally break down and admit why I didn’t date when she’d accused me of being a closet lesbian. Now, we commiserated over bootlegged white wine and guacamole every Friday night in our dorm. Annie had been a virtuoso on the piano since she wowed the crowd at Miss Eveline’s School of Music’s annual recital at the Orpheum Theater.

Annie loved to wax philosophical and tell me in her best therapist voice that I needed to snap out of it and realize I could never have a man almost twice my age who was my father’s lifelong friend. I tried to throw her off with the distinguished gray temples and the British accent that made him sound like a fucking genius but she wouldn’t be deterred. Then she’d pulled out a copy of the New York Times and showed me an article he’d written that had been picked up nationwide.

“He is a fucking genius,” Annie had said, playing with my long hair to soothe me. “At least you didn’t just pick someone with a rock hard body to spark your May/December fantasies. I approve of your crush, Devon. You could have done far worse. I just wish you wouldn’t waste your college years being celibate because of it. You need to start making up for lost time, girlfriend.”

But telling myself that was a lot harder to accomplish when what I wanted was unattainable, yet still within my reach. Because the object of my affection taught Freshman English in the same building that contained the song-writing room that Geoff Standish and I had booked to work on our original music together.

I’d met Geoff at music camp the summer between junior and senior year back in high school. We’d become fast friends. I’d listened to him moan and groan about his crush on the very straight Eddison Moranis, and he’d listened to me whine and bitch about the man who shall remain nameless to everyone but Annie Kruger. Annie and Geoff were thrilled I’d enrolled at Diamond. I still wasn’t so sure.

I stared into his lecture hall as I passed the mammoth auditorium on my way to my tiny music room. I could see an outline of a figure through the beveled glass and hear a deep voice muffled by the acoustics. My pussy flooded with moisture, and I picked up my pace to get as far away from his vicinity as I could. I was afraid. Of him. Of myself. Mostly of my galloping heartbeat and tingling body. I couldn’t control either at even the thought of him. What would happen when I actually saw him?

Just thinking about his face had my skin prickling with awareness, had every part of me pinging with desire. And his hands. The man had the most stunning, sculpted, and creative hands I’d ever seen. A shot of adrenaline rushed through my body as I pictured them running from my ankles, over my calves, and drifting higher until they reached the seam of my thong and…

“Earth to Devon!”

My head snapped up and I saw Geoff sitting in the low, leather chair, tuning his guitar. Busted. Shit. I hoped he wouldn’t start grilling me about my apparent lack of focus. Because I couldn’t tell him. I was laser focused. Just not on the appropriate thing.

“Hey, Geoff. How are you? Sorry I’m a few minutes late. I got sidetracked at the commons. Some feminist Nazi preaching to the masses about cutting men’s dicks off.”

Geoff shivered and a disgusted frown creased his chiseled features. He stuck his tongue out in the general vicinity of the window. “Jesus. Won’t they ever stop? Is it some female collegiate rite of passage? I hope you never go over to the dark side, Devon. In the words of my idol, Mr. Joel. I love you just the way you are.”

“Never, Geoffie-poo. I’d rather emasculate you through the time-honored tradition of song. Just like women have been doing since the dark ages.” I executed a perfect twirl in time with my words and shoved my full breasts toward the sky. “I am a goddess and my pussy is divine. Don’t cross me or I will put a curse on you so deep and dark, your dick will shrivel up and fall off. After that, I’ll chant to the scaly remains.”

Geoff laughed full-on and I delighted in his charming smile. Complete with dimples. My favorite. Too damn bad his door didn’t swing my way. But then again, with my shyness and my propensity to adore another man, even if Geoff were available, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself around him. I’d clam up, dim my light, and he’d never even notice my existence.

Kind of like someone else you know. Someone who couldn’t even be bothered to attend your graduation. As valedictorian of a 300-member senior class.

I shook my head to ground myself back in the present. I loved writing with Geoff, and we tended to come up with better music and lyrics when we put our heads together. And since our professor had advised we could work in pairs for this first mid-term project, we’d both jumped at the chance to be each other’s beacon of musical light. The only thing holding us back was constant shit given by some jock asshat named Seth Arthur, who seemed to delight in tormenting anyone in the music department. But on the way to the music room, he and his usual crew had been blissfully absent.

Geoff pulled out some staffed pages to write his notes, and I did the same with my journal of lyrics. I wrote poetry, and I just made observations about everyday life and the people living it. I had a full journal with all the lyrics I’d ever written about Judge. But that one stayed locked up tight. Even though it contained some of the most beautiful, profound, and deep words I’d ever written, I just couldn’t go there.

Paging through the journal whenever I had time to myself and I knew I wouldn’t be disturbed was one of my guilty pleasures outside of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. I wanted to be the next Erica Jayne. That woman was so badass she made Lady Gaga seem tame. I loved her, and I wanted to bypass becoming a singer/songwriter and shoot myself straight into the stratosphere of performance art, complete with glam squad and killer wardrobe.

Each time I’d run my fingertips over the vellum parchment of my high-end journal, I’d imagine the man as if my fingers were caressing his velvety skin. The last time he’d been next to me I’d caught a whiff of his Gucci cologne. He smelled of pine trees, experience, and intelligence. I imagined his fingers trailing down my body to touch me where I craved it most of all.

Judge Copeland would know just what to do to coax me into womanhood. No way would he disappoint me like Jared Alexander had let down Annie the night of the senior prom. Annie had cried for three days straight when Jared had taken her virginity, pumped and dumped, and left her broken and unfulfilled. A child didn’t know anything about a woman’s body. Or her heart.

Or her soul.