I fiddled with the end of my fork. “Do you think it makes me lame to be in college and still be a virgin?”
“Not at all. I think it makes you a rare gem.” She gave me a wink and a confident smile and dug back into the cake. “But on a serious note, if that cherry hasn’t popped by sophomore year, I’m going to become very worried about you.”
When we got back to the dorm, Astrid went to take a shower and I curled up beneath my blankets with a lingering smile. I couldn’t remember the last time I had any type of girl time with someone my age. I thought the last time was with my friend Ashley from high school, but she was all the way across the country in California. We kept up via text here and there, but I knew we were drifting apart due to distance and that our status of friends would soon shift to acquaintances.
My phone chimed and I turned over quickly, snatching my phone up from my desk. The text was from a number I didn’t know, and it said: Just so we’re clear, I can’t stop thinking about your lips and the dusty, old library books.
My heart came to life, beating a faster rhythm. It was him. I’d known he’d text me.
* * *
I responded:
I’m still thinking about you.
Also, shouldn’t every conversation start with a greeting?
* * *
Cole:
Yes, well, I like to get straight into things.
* * *
Me:
Yeah, I remember. Fun night.
* * *
I grinned, thinking of the library again, how he asked for the keys, how we searched for the book, how we kissed so heatedly.
* * *
Cole:
Fun night indeed. Is it horrible of me to say I’d love to do it again sometime?
* * *
Me:
No. I’ve been wanting the same.
* * *
Cole:
Good. Spring break is coming up. Maybe we can make something happen.
* * *
Me:
I’d like that a lot.
* * *
Cole:
Me too. Well, I have a few papers to grade. Just wanted to text you before I buried myself in work. Good night my Zara.
* * *
Me:
Night Professor.
* * *
I shut the screen of my phone off and turned over to bury my face into my pillow and squeal. I was feeling things—so many things. My heart was racing, my mind going a hundred miles per minute. Spring break was the perfect time for us to escape and take up as much time with each other as we wanted.
I knew what I had with Professor Grant wouldn’t last though. I mean, how could it? He was a college professional, and I was a freshman student. Eventually he was going to let it go, and I wondered, when he did, if I’d feel like Astrid—drowning in oversized sweatpants and hoodies, stuffing my face with chocolate and cake, and binge-watching small-town romances on Netflix. Heartbreak sounded so depressing.
I shook the thought away. For now, I had him, and I was going to make the most of our little secret.
13
Cole
I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking. Surely, I was out of my mind. One morning, I sent Zara a text and asked her if she’d fly to Orlando with me. I had a meeting with my literary agent for a huge opportunity. I’d always wanted to publish a book with a publisher. My flight was covered, and I could bring one other person, and no matter how hard I tried to resist the idea, for the life of me I couldn’t stop telling myself to “Bring Zara.”
I didn’t have to bring her to the meeting, and what better way could there have been to escape than to fly away to another state. No one would know us there. We could be out in the open, basking in the sun, walking the beach, spending endless nights in a hotel.
It sounded like a dream…but I knew deep down that it could also turn into a very twisted reality once that dream was over. When I’d seen Alisha talking to Zara, I had nearly stopped breathing. I knew Zara wouldn’t tell her a thing—she just didn’t seem like the type to jeopardize anyone’s reputation, especially her own—but for months, Alisha had been into me. It wasn’t at all like me to get involved with a student, so I never wanted her. Ever. But then I met Zara at the fucking coffee shop and things changed. I had hoped to forget the incident, but then I saw her and those beautiful eyes. She looked at me like she admired everything I’d done in my life—like I was some god who could cure all her problems.
But she failed to realize that I was not that kind of man. I was a fucked-up man who’d kissed his student. Who did shit like that? And what was more fucked was that I couldn’t stop thinking about all the other places I wanted to kiss her.