A strangled groan escapes. Yep, I’m fucked. I’m having a hard enough time keeping my thoughts straight in the building; add on more temptation, and I’ll be itching to get out the tension.
Coffee.
Coffee will not help, but at least it will keep me distracted.
“Well, hello, Carson,” Lauren purrs at me when I enter the teacher’s lounge. Great. Just what I need. School hasn’t even been back a week, and I’ve already been hit on by nearly all the female staff in the building. Don’t these women know? Don’t shit where you eat. I’m saying this, and yet all I can think about is what color underwear Lynn wears under that skirt.
Oh, the fucking irony.
“Hello, Ms. Stuart.”
“Oh no, Carson. Call me Lauren, like I told you yesterday.” Her arm touches mine. Her fingers are rubbing too close, and I feel my back straightening. I don’t like people invading my space; it puts me on edge. Strangely, I didn’t feel that way with Lynn the first night we met. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe the beach or the stars calming me, but I can’t remember anyone ever making me feel so at ease that easily. I take a step back.
“I’ll remember for next time.” Not that there will be a next time. I’m not the type to initiate small talk. In fact, I’m usually the one to end it. I move to walk out the door.
“Oh, are you leaving?”
“I was going to head back to my class and go over notes—”
“Please stay, I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you, and I would love to get to know you better.”
Shit. “Rain check? I need to be getting back,” I say, and she pouts at my words.
“Fine, but you owe me.” There is a glint in her eyes and a small smirk lines her cheek.
No hiding what she means.
With a few minutes to kill before my next class, I find myself searching out someplace to be alone. Any place that’s quiet enough to think and decompress. Air. Could definitely use some air. With quick steps, I head toward the door leading out of the building. When I’m about to turn the corner, the sound of approaching footsteps has me halting my own steps, but as the chattering noise grows closer, I hear a voice that has my muscles tensing. It’s Lynn and a few other voices I can’t place.
Impatiently, I wait for them to pass. Everything inside me feels so rigid, I might snap in half. Time stands still as I wait for her to come in focus, and once she does, a heaviness grows and spreads through my chest. But I can’t pull my gaze away. Instead, I watch as one foot steps in front of the other and it leaves me wondering, Will she look at me? An odd sense of disappointment weaves its way through me when she purposely looks down to the ground, so as not to catch my eyes. But that movement is her undoing, because just as she attempts to look anywhere but at me is the exact moment she missteps and her body rushes forward, about to hit the linoleum. Time seems to slow as I instinctively reach out to catch her, then pull her toward me and hold her in my arms.
Her chest rises and falls with each inhale of air. My own quickens.
“Damn, Mr. Blake. Look at you acting like a superhero,” her blonde friend laughs. “Will you catch me if I fall?”
The other girl with them—a short brunette—lets out her own giggle, but my eyes are still locked on Lynn, who’s safely enclosed in my arms. Her cheeks pale and then she blushes.
“Are you okay?” I grit out, hating how good she feels, how natural it is to hold her and hating myself even more for thinking this way.
“Yeah.” She pushes off me and stands. “I’m fine.” Then without another word, she grabs the blonde by her hand and pulls her down the hall, the brunette following closely behind. What the hell was that, and why did my treacherous body have to respond?
Hours later and we’re finally heading out for the day. Since I held her in my arms earlier, my brain has been working on sensory overload. Like a beacon, everything inside me hums with Lynn’s proximity to me. It’s strange. Sure, we got on well enough at the beach—okay, more than well. It was fantastic, but still, this incredible need for her that courses through my body, I don’t understand it. In the two days since school started, Lynn Adams has been on my mind constantly. To be completely honest, since she left me on the beach she’s all I think about, and it isn’t just the sex.
I shouldn’t get excited to see her in class. I shouldn’t get excited at the idea of reading her future papers to discover what’s going on beneath the surface, and I definitely shouldn’t be interested in what she thinks about me. But I am. And that’s the scary part.
This is why I have to avoid her.