Pushing the Limits(35)

Life doesn't play fair.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ASPEN



Not hearing from Morgan is killing me.

And I hate that I'm acting like that girl. The one that pines over a guy  who never calls them after a date. The one who gets all emotional and  stupid because that guy looks at them with perfect eyes and dimples and  then wants to cry because they haven't talked to you since you gave them  the best kiss they've ever had.

Yeah, I'm that girl all right. And I hate it.

Being on the other side of the fence is a real drag. Feeling used and  worthless is a new low for me, but I'm determined not to let him know  he's lowered me to that level. After he left me high and dry Saturday  night, and not hearing from him since, he can kiss my ass. He owes me  one hell of an explanation, especially about this Natalia girl, but I'm  not going to go begging for one.         

     



 

I walk into his classroom right on time, not giving him any extra time  to try to talk to me. If he wants to give me some lame ass excuse, he's  going to have to work for it.

"I heard the gala was a huge hit!" Ellie's eyes light up as I sit down next to her.

"It was." I smile in return.

"I wish I could've gone."

"You should've told me. I would have reserved you a ticket."

"Nah, that's okay. I'd have no one to go with anyway."

"Well, if I hadn't been working, I would've gone alone, too."

"Oh my God! We should totally go out this weekend!" Her eyes light up as  her lips spread into a wide, giddy grin. "Yes. We can grab some dinner,  go out for drinks, maybe dancing?"

That actually sounds fun, so I easily agree. "I'm in!"

Professor Hampton rounds his desk and connects his eyes with mine. He  looks tense and eager, but I don't give him the satisfaction of knowing  he's pissed me off. I keep the sly smile on my face as he discusses the  week's assignments.

"There's an opportunity for extra credit coming up. Even if you don't  need it, it's a great class to participate in. Broadway Street Gallery  is hosting a life-drawing workshop this weekend. If you attend, all you  have to do is show me your drawing from the event to receive the credit.  Like I said, it's extra credit, but I think a lot of you would benefit  from the practice."

I'd totally forgotten about it until just now. Ms. Jones hosts special  events year-round, but this year she was able to reserve a nude art  model for a life drawing studio session.

"Life drawing has many benefits as most of you know. It teaches you to  see, teaches you how to draw what you can see, and enables you to  develop your own style of drawing. There are only a few places in the  area that host these types of classes so you might want to consider it  just for the experience alone."

Knowing he'll be there while I am puts me on edge. He has me so sexually  frustrated I'm ready to jump the next guy who looks at me.

However, considering I left the bar the other night with a random guy  and had every intention of sticking to my usual one-nighter, and then  failing immensely after I shut him down and sent him home, I'd say  that's not the best plan.

I'm sexually frustrated because it's him … he's confusing and irritating,  and I can't help but want to rip his clothes off. As much as I want to  hate him, scream at him for kissing me and then just leaving, I want him  to just acknowledge that kissing me meant as much to him as it did to  me. It was hot, passionate, and I'd never felt that way from a kiss  before.

It makes no sense, but I can't let it get to me. I'm the one who doesn't  get attached, knows better than to let emotions get the best of me, yet  I'm the one who's left feeling the ache in my chest.

As we all work on our projects, I avoid any eye contact with him. It's  much harder than it sounds, but I study the paper as if it's a map to a  million-dollar treasure chest. I won't give him the satisfaction that  I'm dying to see if he's looking at me, too.

"Your shading needs work," I hear him say from behind me in a distant tone.

I clench my teeth together to keep myself from telling him off. I don't  want to make a scene with witnesses around, but the closer he leans in,  the more I'm tempted.

"I'll work on it," I reply roughly, keeping my tone low.

Ellie glances at me with a concerned look, but I quickly flash a smile  in return. She eyes Professor Hampton as he walks away. I just shrug as  if I have no idea what his problem is, and she makes a face behind his  back. I bite my lip to keep from laughing at her antics, finally putting  me in a better mood.

Class comes to an end, and my heart hasn't stopped pounding in my chest.  I have no idea what he's thinking, but I'm bailing as soon as possible.

"Aspen, I'd like to speak with you after class, please," he announces  just as I put my easel and supplies away in my bag. I cringe at the  sound of his demanding tone and if it weren't for twenty pairs of eyes  on me, I'd tell him to fuck off.

But instead, I smile and respond, "Sorry, I'm actually in a huge rush. I have to be somewhere."

I see his throat tighten as he swallows. He knows he can't argue with me in front of everyone, so he shrugs it off.

"Oh, sure. I'll be here early for class on Thursday. You'll come then."

"I'll do my best to be there," I lie with a condescending tone. He knows I'm putting on a show for everyone eavesdropping.         

     



 

I walk out with my dignity intact and an extra pep in my step. Ellie  rushes up to walk with me and notices the sly smirk on my face.

"What the hell was that?" she asks, her lips turned up.

"Nothing." I keep walking with my bag over my shoulder.

"Really? If that was nothing, then I'm a reborn virgin."

The corner of my lips tilt up, amused, but I turn my head so she can't  see the smile creeping on my face. "I don't know what you're talking  about." I turn back toward her and keep a straight face. "I'm meeting a  friend after class and couldn't stay."

She studies my features, trying to read me, but I don't let it show on my face.

"All right, if you say so," she says, but I know she's not buying any of it. "Any plans for spring break?"

I let out a relieved sigh at the change of topic. "I'm supposed to fly back home, but I haven't decided if I'm going or not."

Speaking of which, my mother's expecting me in two weeks.

"You?" We walk through the front doors and the warm breeze blows the hair off my shoulders.

"Oh my God!" Her face lights up as her eyes widen at me. "Is that a  hickey?" She points to my neck, and I'm quick to cover it up with my  hand.

"What?" I ask in a panic.

She bursts into laughter, nearly choking on her own words. "I so got you."

"You're a real bitch," I say, trying to hold in my own laughter.

"You really thought you had one, which means there is something going on with Professor Hampton."

Fucking hell.

"I assure you there is nothing happening."

She narrows her eyes at me, not believing my words. "But there was? Or  will be? C'mon, I may be a lot of things, but I'm not an idiot. I can  smell the sexual tension between you two. It's so obvious, the rest of  us all have bets for when you're going to finally hook up."

My eyes grow so big I'm worried they'll fall right out. I can't tell if  she's messing with me or not, so I just walk away. "Gotta go!" I call  out. "Bye!"

I hear her laughing behind me. My cheeks heat at the thought of other  students getting suspicious of the two of us. What happened is never  happening again, I've decided, so I don't know why I'm worried, but the  last thing I need is the reputation of a student who sleeps with her  professors to get good grades.

My work merits all of my good grades and that's not something I'm  willing to jeopardize. Graduate schools have been contacting me since my  sophomore year and considering it's a competitive program, I need all  the references I can get in order to be accepted into one of them.





I walk into the gallery Wednesday morning with all the memories of  Saturday night still lingering in my mind. That kiss. His lips. Those  stupid sexy dimples and charming eyes. I hate that he affects me the way  he does. Hell, even in my dreams, my body craves him.

But that doesn't justify him kissing me and leaving me behind like a  meaningless and forgotten one-night stand. Talk about the pot calling  the kettle black, I've done the same thing dozens of times and never  felt an ounce of guilt. Being on this side of the situation is foreign  and I don't like it. Not one bit.

After stowing my things in my locker, I head to Christine's desk to see  what's on the schedule for today. I'm completely shocked when I walk up  and she is smiling and humming lightly.

"Well, this is a nice change of pace to your usual grouchy morning  attitude." Her cheeks flush and her eyes focus intently on the papers in  front of her. "So, what's the cause of this early morning Cinderella  moment? Should I watch out for singing birds and dancing mice?"