Pushing the Limits(21)

"I'm afraid to even ask … "

She sighs and rolls her eyes before speaking in a high-pitched mock  tone. "This restaurant-brilliant! This food-brilliant! The  music-brilliant! My outfit-"

"Brilliant?"

"Oh my God! It was a fucking nightmare!" I can't stop the round of  laughter that escapes my throat at her facial expressions. "And then  when I asked about his job, he said brilliant thirteen times!" Her eyes  widen, and I continue laughing. "Thirteen times! I started counting!"

By now, we're both hysterically laughing.

I manage to swallow my food down without choking, but not without  effort. When the waitress checks on us, she responds, "Brilliant. The  food was brilliant. The drinks were brilliant. You were simply  brilliant."

I don't know how she manages to keep a straight face, but once the  waitress purses her lips together and responds with a cold, ‘great, I'm  glad to hear it,' comment and not so casually leaves the bill on the  table before walking away, we burst into a fit of giggles once again.

"Seriously … I don't think anyone will ever be able to top off Mr.  Brilliant." I shake my head, reassured he has to be the worst of the  worst.

"Sad thing is … I'm sure some of the others could." She takes another drink although she really shouldn't.

"Don't you do background checks on these guys? Urine samples?"

"I really should," she agrees, but the frantic bobbing of her head lets  me know it's the alcohol taking its course. "Or someone should. Oh! Like  an agency! A pre-dating agency." She clears her throat and continues.  "We provide the work up so you can do the work down!"

I cover my mouth to avoid laughing again, but it's no use. "That's the worst slogan I've ever heard."

"But admit it … you'd totally use it."

"It might scare them off."

She shrugs her shoulders. "Then at least we'd know beforehand. No time wasted!"

"Speaking of wasted … " I murmur, but she waves me off. "All right … so who else?"

"Oh! There was Quinn. I met him through a mutual friend from high  school. So we start talking online, which leads to texting and other  things, and when we finally plan to meet up, he tells me he doesn't  drink! Like what are we, cavemen?" I burst out laughing, and when I  start to notice that other people are staring at us, I suggest it's time  we get going.

I put some cash down on the table to cover the bill plus her tip before sliding out my chair and motioning her to do the same.

"I mean, really? I get being all religious and not drinking, or even  being sober because you used to fancy the bottle a little too much, but  he's never ever had alcohol even after he turned twenty-one."

We begin walking out to the car when I loop my arm inside hers, mostly  to make sure she doesn't fall back on her ass. "How's that even  possible?" I ask, getting into the driver's seat.

"I don't even know. That's like staying a virgin after your married. It doesn't make any sense at all!"

We're about half way to the apartment building when she brings up the one thing I had really hoped she wouldn't ask …

"So, I know you're focused on your art and busy at school and work, but  have any art geeks grabbed your attention long enough to stick around  for more than a night?"

I snort at her choice of words. I know I can't tell her, although I'm  dying to tell someone I'm crushing hard for my art professor-but I need  to be careful. Even though I'm almost one hundred percent certain she  wouldn't say anything, I can't risk it.

"Nope."

"C'mon … no one that's interested you for more than twelve hours?" She perks a brow, sporting a devilish grin.

"There's been an interest, but that's it. We just talk and flirt."

"And?" she prompts.

"And nothing. It's best we just stay friends."

"Well … friends can have fun, too."

I smile at her insinuation. "As much as I wouldn't mind some of that fun, it can't happen, either."

"All right, Aspen. I'm starting to notice a theme."

"Which is?"

"You have a boring life."

"I beg to differ." I roll my eyes. "Since we're on the topic of  interests, when are you finally going to kick that non-grabby hands  boyfriend of yours to the curb?"         

     



 

She exaggerates a gasp. "He is plenty grabby, thank you very much."

"Oh, has he reached the elbow finally?" I snort, cracking up at my own joke.

"I hate you!" she hisses with a laugh, throwing a pathetic punch at me. "We are way past the elbow!"

"Oh, good!" I glance in her direction. "So I can expect a graphic second base story coming soon?"

"Gah! I wonder if it's because he's small. Do you think that's why he's put off on going all the way?"

She leans her head back on the headrest where she closes her eyes and  sighs. "Well, I guess there's really only one way to find out, isn't  there?"

"That's it … we're doing it. It's been three months, dammit. I'm just  going to get naked and jump on top of him. There's no way a guy would  push this-" She opens her eyes and waves a hand down her body. "-away  unless they're gay."

"Agreed. I'd even let you get to a few bases before I pushed you off."

"You're such a bitch!" She laughs.

We arrive back at the complex and head back inside. I plan to nap before  we head out for the night. "So you're meeting Zoe at the bar around  ten?" she confirms before we each head back into our apartments.

"Yup. Save me a seat." I wink before unlocking my door and stepping inside.

I wouldn't normally think twice about going out with the girls and  finding a guy to take home, but since getting closer to Professor  Hampton, it makes my stomach turn just thinking about bringing anyone  back to my place. Although I have absolutely no claim on him, it doesn't  stop the burning desire to wish I did. The way it feels to be around  him isn't a feeling I've ever had before …

He makes me feel things I shouldn't.





Seeing Professor Hampton twice a week is really starting to mess with my  head. The next week goes like the previous three weeks-work, school,  noticeable throbbing between my legs, painting, daydreaming of what  Professor Hampton's lips would feel like against mine.

How his naked body would look and feel …

The constant struggle of trying to stay focused around him while  wondering what he'd look like naked and tangled in my sheets is  distracting to the point where I almost left the house without a shirt  on and about walked into a closed door when I finally realized it.

It's really becoming a safety hazard.

Every time I'm concentrating on a project in class, I feel him watching  me. Even when I'm not facing him, I feel his presence near me, and I  wonder if I'm crazy for having these mixed feelings. I know he feels  them too and that confuses me even more.

I've never wanted a guy to have those types of feelings for me. I knew I  couldn't return them. I know the emotional baggage I carry around is  too much for anyone to be burdened with, so I keep it inside. I push it  deeper and deeper, never exposing it for what it really is-fear and  guilt.

It started back in high school after Ariel's funeral. I was allowed to  take a week off before returning, but it might as well have been one  day, because no matter how long it was, it never would've been enough.  Students stared at me, teachers pitied me, my counselor, Ms. Newman,  pulled me from classes that I wasn't participating in.

Although my parents were called several times about it, they were just  as mentally absent as I was. I'd isolated myself from everyone and  everything. One day during study hall, Ms. Newman stood in front of me  and told me to come with her. It wasn't a request. It was an order.

I followed her into the art room where students were all quietly working  on art projects. Mr. Bakersfield sat at his desk when Ms. Newman walked  me in and introduced us. I was told to come to his room every day  instead of study hall. Without questioning anything, I did as I was  told. It didn't really matter where I was anyway.

The first half of the semester, I just sat in his classroom. I didn't  talk. I hardly listened. I didn't participate in any of the assignments.  After awhile, I'd pick up a pencil and start doodling. That led to  drawing, which later led to painting. I began participating in class  every day, silently working alone. One day, after class had already been  dismissed, Mr. Bakersfield handed me a large canvas. He didn't say  anything, just smiled at me and winked.

I stayed late and painted the darkest image I've ever seen. I let my  guard down and let everything inside of me out on that canvas. I wasn't  exactly sure what it even was, but it released something inside of me.

I continued working on it for weeks, adding to it and trying to make  sense of what it could be. It looked evil on one side, but on the other,  it was bright and happy. By the time I finished, I knew.