Excerpt:
I try to block thoughts of Professor Hampton out of my head, but after seeing him at the gallery, it’s all I’ve been able to focus on. I end up walking into the wrong classroom for my Monday morning course and even lock myself out of my apartment. I called the landlord, but of course, he didn’t answer or return my calls. I decided to wait outside of Kendall and Zoe’s apartment until one of them gets home since we exchanged spare keys months ago. But even sitting and waiting in the hallway for one of them to show, he consumes my thoughts completely.
I know nothing good can come from this fascination I feel for him. This is the exact reason I keep my distance in the first place and get involved with guys that mean nothing to me, but he’s making it really hard to stay away.
If my past has taught me anything, it’s to not get attached. I don’t talk about my past or why I prefer to live alone. Kendall’s asked me a million times why I don’t have a roommate or why I don’t date exclusively. I just give her or anyone else that asks a vague explanation—I prefer to paint and work alone, and I don’t need the distraction of a relationship right now. It seems to work most of the time, but Kendall has tried to dig for more. I just brush it off and change the subject. Although I have told her bits and pieces of my past, including parts of Ariel, it’s all she knows. No one besides me knows the whole story.
And if I’ve learned anything from this past week—guys are definitely a distraction.
Then today I got stuck staying later than usual for my shift at the gallery, and now I’m running so damn late for Professor Hampton’s class. Once I finally got off work, I ran home to grab my school bag and change clothes. However, I spent much more time than necessary trying to pick out an outfit.
After circling the parking lot, searching unsuccessfully for a spot, I give up and park on the street. I sigh and grab my bag just as it starts sprinkling out. It’s a longer walk, so I dig through my trunk for my umbrella, but it’s not in there.
Great.
I look up and see the dark clouds moving in. I beg them not to rain just yet. Just wait, I plead. I slam my trunk down and begin walking. I pull my sweater tighter against my chest and keep my head low.
I’m about half way there when the skies unleash, drenching me in a matter of seconds. Son-of-a-bitch. I try to walk faster, but it’s no use. I’m completely soaked.
I grab the railing to the staircase that leads to the LAB building. As soon as I take the first step, my heel slips against the wet cement, and I’m mere milliseconds from face planting.
An arm catches me from the side, wrapping around my waist and pulling me up before I can even comprehend someone is there. I notice the rain has stopped pouring over me, giving me the opportunity to stabilize myself. Once both feet are firmly on the ground, I inhale deeply, feeling relief.
“Are you okay?”
My eyes widen as I hear Professor Hampton’s voice next to me. I swallow and turn to face him. “Yes, thanks to you.” I try to sound casual, but the nerves in my voice make it impossible to look unaffected by him.
“You almost gave yourself a shiner there.” His lips curve into a sympathetic smile. “Let me walk with you.” He releases his grip on me, and I now notice he’s holding an umbrella over me.
“I swear I’m not always this jumpy and clumsy.” I lean into him as we walk up the rest of the steps, but he acts unaffected.
“You need to be closer,” he says, throwing me off guard. Before I can respond, he pulls me tighter to his side. “The umbrella isn’t wide enough,” he answers my unspoken question. I nod in return and keep my head down as he leads us into the building. His body feels warm against mine, his scent overpowering my senses.
“Thank you,” I say as soon as we’re inside and out of the rain. He shakes the umbrella off before closing it. “Oh, shit,” I gasp, taking a step closer to him and pressing my hand to his chest. “I got your suit jacket all wet.” I panic and begin brushing the water off but stop when his hand covers mine.
“It’s okay, Aspen.” His eyes stare intently into mine. “A little water won’t kill me.” His voice sounds so sincere and rough at the same time. How does he do that?
We stand there, staring at each other, unmoving. My stomach is somersaulting at the way his hand feels against mine. The way his eyes are looking at me, I can’t bring myself to break away.
The sound of the building door opening and closing breaks me out of my trance. I take a step back and remove my hand from his chest. I turn and see Professor Van Bergen staring suspiciously at us. She teaches art classes for freshmen and sophomores. I’ve had her as a teacher a few times as well. She’s in her mid-thirties, but the scowl that’s permanently etched on her face makes her look over fifty.
Professor Hampton clears his throat and shoves a hand in his pocket. “Claire,” he greets, nodding in her direction with a forced smile.
My breathing speeds up as I notice the intense stare she’s giving us. My mind starts spinning at what she must be assuming right now. My hand was on his chest, our bodies just inches apart.
After Saturday’s tour, I can’t deny the chemistry between us. I know he feels it too, but that doesn’t mean anything. He’s my professor. It would risk everything, and that’s why I must resist those irresistible dimples and charming smile. I usually have no problem keeping my emotions out of it, but he’s somehow managed to get inside my head just enough to make me second guess exactly what’s going on with my body and why it reacts to him this way.
“Morgan.” She nods and looks between us before adding, “Finally raining. The trees were starting to look like corpses.”
“Yeah, we definitely need it,” he responds politely, but I can no longer see the two of them. My eyes lower to the ground as everything becomes blurry and my heart thumps hard in my chest.
“Well, have a good night.”
“You as well.”
I hear the inner door open and the clacking of her heels as she walks down the hall.
“Are you all right?” Professor Hampton’s voice captures my attention again. “You look pale.”
I blink a few times before responding. “Yes, I just…I just need to sit down.” My knees feel weak, and I can feel the blood draining from my face.
“What’s wrong?” he quickly asks, watching me take a seat on the wet floor, not even caring that the rain from our shoes has brought water inside. “Are you ill?” he asks, repeating the same question he asked me in the bathroom that first night of class.
“No.” I shake my head and bring my knees to my chest. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute to calm down.”
“Are you having an anxiety attack?” He kneels down in front of me.
“Feels like it,” I respond honestly. “I just need a minute. It’ll pass.”
“Do you get these a lot?”
“Sometimes…I mean, yeah, I guess. It just depends.”
“What can I do?” he asks in a rush, brushing a rough hand through his hair. “God, I feel so helpless.”
“Count with me,” I reply. “Sometimes that helps.”
He nods as I begin slowly counting, his husky voice a balm to my anxious mind. When we get to seven his warm palm is on my shoulder, his hand slowly tracking down to my elbow before he repeats the motion as we count down to one.
I inhale through my nose and slowly exhale through my mouth once more, feeling the tension ebb away.
His gentle caress continues as his brows rise. “Better?”
I smile and nod. “Yes, I think so.” I’m still trying to focus on my breathing, but with his body so close to mine, I can hardly focus on anything except envisioning what his lips would feel like pressed against mine. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiles. He reaches his hand out and waits until I place mine in it. “Do you know your triggers?” He pulls me up so we’re both standing again.
I want to ask why he cares so much, why he’s taking such an interest, but I don’t. That’d be rude, so I respond, “Yes, I have a list,” I say softly. “I’m quite aware of them.” My cheeks heat at the embarrassment of having another episode in front of him.
“Are they avoidable?” He opens the other door for me and waits until I pass through. “I mean, is there a way to bypass the triggers?”
This heavy conversation is making my head spin, so I decide to lighten it up and get the thoughts out of my mind. “Why do you think I come to art class twice a week?” I turn my head and smile back at him but quickly face forward again. The last thing I need to do is run into a wall or something.
That’d be the icing on the freaking cake.