Chapter Eleven
Ian
I’m a mess.
I woke up with a hard-on the size of the Empire State Building. After Darcy left, I’d wanked myself off. Twice.
But it failed to quash the lust.
I’d sent her home before I could talk myself into claiming her virginity. I meant what I’d said—I wanted her first time to be special, even though my good intentions warred with my desires.
For once, I slept like the dead, but I’d been plagued by erotic dreams and a constant state of priapism. In a few hours, Darcy would be mine. And more than anything, I wanted to be inside her.
No other man had been with her. I could hardly believe it. There’s something primal and male about being a woman’s first, and I’d wanted her for ages. Unsated hunger plagued me.
Yet I couldn’t help but linger on the possible consequences. Sod it all. I wanted this woman, not only as my lover, or my student, but as mine. I hadn’t felt like this since college. Like I’d been asleep for years, existing, but not really living. Darcy gave me joy and captivated me. She’d woken me up, made me feel alive.
I shouldn’t have taken it this far, never should’ve started this affair. Next year, I’d be her supervisor as well as her professor— a relationship fraught with ethical issues. I blundered into it anyway, unable or unwilling to stop myself.
Did it give me pause? I wished it did. I’d see this through—consequences be damned.
And I refused to let the inevitable fallout dampen my pleasure.
This evening couldn’t come soon enough. I promised myself I’d be gentle, kind, attentive to her needs, even though my body begged me for release. In the meantime, I had a promise to keep.
I told Darcy this would be a special occasion, and I’d make every effort to impress her.
This would be a night to remember.
***
Darcy
“So how’d it go?”
Iris sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal. Thank God she’d stopped stress baking, or I would’ve gained twenty pounds this semester.
Hmm, I could’ve worked off all those calories with Ian, though.
Geez. He’d created a monster last night. One little taste and I couldn’t think of anything else.
I’d never been a very physical being—too busy living in my own head. Now I was aware of my own body in a new way. This morning, I’d stripped off and taken a hot bath. It’d been a sensual experience—exploring myself, envisioning Ian’s hands on me instead.
“It went well.”
Somehow, I couldn’t stop smiling. When I’d gotten home late last night, Iris had already been at work, so I didn’t have the chance to update her on my progress.
I hadn’t slept much, but I didn’t even feel tired—like a kid on Christmas Eve, about to dive into a big pile of presents.
Iris patted the seat next to her. “Sit a spell and give me all the dirt.”
I’d been waiting to lose my virginity since I found out there was such a thing. And sharing this rite of passage with Ian felt right, even if we were technically in the wrong—by university standards, anyway.
Then I realized Iris watched me with an expectant expression.
Whoops.
“Sorry, my thoughts are all over the place. I had a fantastic time. We didn’t actually, er, close the deal, but we came pretty close.”
Her face fell. “Well, damn. Did somethin’ go wrong?”
“Yes and no.” I put a mug of water in the microwave, and while it heated, I gave her the highlights.
“Oh no. You had a panic attack in front of him.” She pressed a hand to her mouth.
“Awkward, right? But he was so sweet and patient with me—calmed me down.”
“Did he now?” She arched a brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re smitten.”
I snorted. “Iris, I’ve been smitten for years. And now I’m…”
I couldn’t find the right words—another first for me. I’d written about falling in love with someone, but I’d never experienced it myself.
Until now.
Woah.
“I’ll be damned, you’re fallin’ for him.”
I sighed. “Maybe.” We had a connection—physical, emotional, intellectual. Ian understood me on so many levels.
Touching him had heightened my feelings, intensified them somehow. There’d been no talk of where this was leading. I was playing a very dangerous game with my heart, but I couldn’t back out now.
Iris beamed. “I remember what it’s like. Fightin’ your emotions is useless as a screen door on a submarine. You’re seein’ him again tonight?”
“Yes, Ian’s planning something. I’m so glad I didn’t rush into anything with another guy, just to get rid of my virginity.” This initiation would be meaningful, right somehow. “And what about your love life?
She sighed. “I like Jackson. A lot.”
“Not so long ago, you wouldn’t even go out with him.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Wow. You’re into another Archibald, huh?”
She sighed. “Don’t even say it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Not a clue. He’s pretty focused on this whole revenge thing. I don’t think it’s healthy. Besides, I’m going to France soon, which is why I’ve been scrimping and saving like a crazy person. It can’t go anywhere, right?”
“I’m not the one to ask. A couple months ago, Ian and I were impossible. Look at me now. Besides, aren’t you the moonlight and magnolias girl?” I winked. “Maybe this is your happily ever after.”
“Keep it up, and I’m going to fling Cheerios at you.”
“Yes! I hit a nerve. You like this Jackson guy.”
“Lord help me.”
“Maybe you should bring Jackson around? We’d all like to meet him.”
“So y’all can interrogate him?”
“Yes, and maybe we’ll throw in a survey.” If I had my way, there’d be a urine test and a credit check, too.
“No way. No how.”
“Spoilsport.”
“That’s me. And I’m not seeing Ian for hours, so I have the time to annoy you.”
“Make sure you take precautions,” Poppy said.
Turning, I saw Kate standing in the doorway. Poppy stood right behind her, and she offered a sheepish wave.
A few days ago, Poppy had dropped a bombshell—she was pregnant with Sebastian’s baby. And she hadn’t told her mother or her stepfather yet. For a while, she’d even kept it secret from Iris.
“It’s going to be okay.” Kate hugged her.
“Damn straight,” Iris said. “You’re going to be a great momma.”
I hoped it worked out. I couldn’t imagine being my age and pregnant. It put things into perspective for me. All of a sudden, sleeping with my instructor didn’t sound quite so complicated.
I collected my tea, while Poppy and Kate poured themselves coffee. Then we all sat together around the kitchen table.
I sighed, freezing the moment.
Evidently, we were all thinking the same thing. Poppy wiped a tear away, and Iris was misty-eyed. Kate kept it together, except for trembling lips.
Not even Taylor Swift could help us out of this one.
I sniffled. “We’re about to reach the end of an era.” My emotions were all over the place, and I couldn’t hold them back any longer.
“Don’t.” Kate held up a hand.
“We’ve gotta talk about it some time,” Iris said. “We’re running out of tomorrows.”
“Let’s make a plan, then. Graduation can’t be the last time we see each other,” Kate said.
“Tell you what.” I flipped through the calendar on my phone. “Let’s get together at the end of the summer—say, Labor Day.”
“I have no idea what I’ll be doing, so I’ll go with the flow.” Poppy scrunched up her nose. “But let’s not call it Labor Day.”
“Fine, we’ll call it the first Monday in September. I should be getting back from Paris around then.” Iris shimmied in her chair. “And how cool am I? I’ll be jettin’ back to the States from another country.”
“I’m in. I’ll put in a request for time off at work.” Kate grabbed the notepad by the phone and wrote a reminder on the spot.
“Perfect, and since it’s my idea, I’ll be the hostess.” This kind of party, I could get into: just my best friends in a cozy, intimate setting—a few cocktails, some good food. It should be a lot of fun. “Although the location is TBD.”
“TBD?” Poppy asked.
“To be determined—by me.” There, I felt better. Graduation day wouldn’t be the last time we saw each other. Now I could concentrate on tonight.
Hmm. Poppy had a baby on the way, Iris would move to another country, and Kate was in the process of shacking up with her boss.
My future wouldn’t be so different from now. I’d still be going to Columbia, albeit in a different apartment with new roommates.
The thought was depressing.
At the very least, I wouldn’t be a virgin in September.
***
Ian
When I got to work later on in the morning, I had a voicemail from Walter, asking me to “stop by his office” after lunch.
Once more, I waited at the conference table while he finished up an email.
This felt like the time I’d been called into the headmaster’s office in prep school for unscrewing all the hinges on the third floor of the dormitory and switching everyone’s doors. The prank had almost gotten me tossed out of school, but it’d been worth it.
“Thank you for meeting with me.”
He made it sound like I’d had a choice in the matter. When the boss asked for a meeting, an employee couldn’t beg off.
“Sure. What did you want to see me about?” I shifted in the chair, and the wood creaked beneath me.
“We’ll get to it in a moment.” Walter grimaced.
“Okay.” His demeanor was off today—a bit odd.
“First, tell me about your class load this summer. You created another special topic?”
Professors had the option to offer elective courses in their field. Was Walter asking because he’d have to find someone else to cover it?
“Yes, I’m teaching another creative writing workshop, in addition to my regular summer load.” I taught a couple of alternating English electives, aimed at students who wanted to get a jump on their coursework.
“I see. Will your new grad assistant be helping out?” He picked up a piece of paper. “Darcy James?”
Ah, now we’d come to the real purpose of the conference. Walter was looking for dirt on me.
“I suppose she might. Darcy’s contract doesn’t start until August, but I have the option of offering her short-term summer employment.” My tone was level.
“Yes, you do. It’s good to see professors taking an interest, provided it’s a healthy one.” His eyes narrowed.
Meaning he didn’t have any concrete evidence, so I wondered what he’d heard.
Had Dr. Baldwin let it slip that I’d had a late-night dinner with Darcy? Or had someone seen her on my motorcycle? Being a professor was like living in a fishbowl. Everyone noticed my movements. Perhaps I hadn’t been as discreet as I thought.
“Absolutely.” An ambiguous response.
I wouldn’t defend myself until I faced an allegation. Strange. I should be alarmed. My job had been threatened, but somehow I didn’t give a damn—which told me a lot.
Why was I clinging to this position? It wasn’t my passion. What if I spent my days creating art instead? It would be more satisfying, give me a purpose.
What had I been doing with my time? Keats would say I was wasting it.
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me, Ian?”
I was tempted to tell him off, offer my resignation. But I didn’t.
Something held me back.
Not money—I had a trust fund. I could spend the next year lying on a beach somewhere if I took a notion.
Fear, perhaps? What damage could I do without a schedule, a tether to keep me grounded? Would my creativity fuel the mania, until I no longer gave a damn?
“If that’s all…?” I made for the door.
Walter got to his feet. “You’re still up for tenure, Ian. It’d be a shame for something to derail it.”
“Understood.”
There was just one problem—I didn’t belong here.
Not anymore.