Dear Professor(73)

Fucking was better than feeling.

I grabbed my stuff and headed for the shower, a niggle in the back of my mind. I couldn’t put my finger on it, so I washed myself in a state of extreme frustration. It wasn’t until I walked back into my room, clutching my towel, that I saw my phone on my bed and it all made sense.

I had the most compelling urge to open the e-mail I’d just deleted.

My fingers twitched as I dried my body and put my underwear on. It was more than an urge now. It was a burning desire to see the contents… Like when you’re five years old and you know your mom has your Christmas presents in that box under her bed and you need to know if she got you that Barbie you were dying for.

I pulled a shirt on and jumped on my bed. I grabbed my phone as it bounced up and opened my e-mail app once more. This time, I headed for the trash. It was right there, at the top. Christina Wilson, no subject, in big, black, bold letters.

My heart jumped into my throat when I clicked on it. The words swam before my eyes as their unknown meaning hit me right in the gut. I might not have a clue what they meant, but I sure as hell knew who they referred to.

Jordan.



To: darcyh_345@gmail.com

From: tina-wilson99@gmail.com

Subject: (no subject)



You aren’t the only one.





Dear Professor, what an enigma you are… Xoxo, Darcy.



You aren’t the only one.

It’d been two days since that e-mail. Two days since new lines had been drawn in my relationship with Professor Keaton. Two days that those five words had consumed me to the point of a disease.

I knew they were about him. I knew he was involved somehow. I didn’t know how I did, but my gut told me it the same way that it’d made me open Christina’s e-mail.

I hadn’t replied to her. I wanted to. I wanted to ask her what she was talking about, but I was too afraid to. I was afraid of what her response would be—what she’d tell me about this man who was slowly revealing himself to me.

About the man who, despite all odds, was creeping under my skin.

Last night, he’d spent twenty minutes being the defense in my law work. He’d countered every point I’d made, and every single time I’d outsmarted him, he’d laughed. It’d been the most unofficial court of law I’d ever been in—partly because of my yoga pants.

Partly because each argument had been interspersed with kisses and leg strokes until I finally hadn’t been able to take the heat of his skin against mine any longer and fucked him.#p#分页标题#e#

It had been the sweetest torture.

Just like his class was. Sitting there at the back of the room as he talked at the front of the room was becoming the hardest part of his day. The fleeting glances we shared were the worst, because in that split-second, I saw so much in his eyes, more than I normally did.

More than anything, I saw his smile.

And that was so...dangerous.

My mother had once told me that the day you saw someone’s emotions in their eyes was the day you signed a piece of your heart over to them, but the day you saw their smile, you signed your soul away.

I’d never believed her. I’d thought it had been the ramblings of a romantic heart, desperate for her daughter to see the world the rose-tinted way she did, but now, I see I’d been wrong.

She was right. Emotions were strong, but there was something about a smile that made it so very real when it was as vibrant and infectious in someone’s eyes as it was on their lips.

And, God help me, every time our eyes met and his lips twitched, I saw his smile. I saw his fucking smile reflecting back in those goddamn gorgeous eyes.

I was one day away from slipping my soul into an envelope and signing, sealing, and delivering it right to his front door.

I was afraid he owned more than my body. I was afraid that, with every one of those smiles he had, he was taking a piece of me I’d kept locked away.

Nothing had ever been so scary, especially not this week.

The date had glared at me from the calendar. I’d been able to ignore it up until now. In four days, it’d be three years since Griffin died. It didn’t matter how many days had passed or how I’d changed. That day would forever be etched in my mind as the most pain I had ever felt and would ever feel.

And that day… It was my own personal hell. Anguish and heartache, the ultimate recipe for emotional destruction, all wrapped into twenty-four neat, little hours.

The class ended, so I silently packed my things away. Jake glanced at me several times, each time with concern in his gaze. I tried to ignore him, but when he grabbed my arm, I couldn’t.

“Darce,” he said softly. “What’s up?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, tugging my purse zipper shut. “I’m just tired.”