"Yeah, but sometimes I wonder if they're right."
"Yeah?"
"Maybe it is an anchor in a certain way." Her brown eyes turn down. "I hate myself for thinking that."
"Why? It's true. I… think it about us sometimes?"
"Bitch."
"Sorry."
"No, I get it. I see you and I see a private school uniform. And, well… I start to think about Jamie."
"He's your boyfriend."
"My first love," she says. "That implies a second, doesn't it?"
"Only if you want a second."
"I've said no to so many things because I wanted to call him. Because I missed him. Because I needed him."
I rest my head on her shoulder. "Do you regret it?"
"No. And I would hate to prove my mom right too. She told me to end things, so I could have fun in college. That I shouldn't get too serious with anyone until I'm twenty-five."
"Twenty-five?"
"That's when your brain is mostly finished developing. Kinda. It's more complicated than that. I think it's that she regrets marrying my dad so young, you know?"
"Do I know about distant fathers?"
"Yeah, right. But, ugh, I'm so tired of hearing myself whine about missing Jamie."
"You're not whining."
"Maybe not now, but in my head, and in my journal? If someone read it, they'd think I'm some kind of crazy stalker. It's I miss Jamie again and again. Like one of those old-school detention assignments to write on a chalkboard a hundred times."
"I'm sorry it's so hard."
She pulls an invisible zipper over her lip. "No more complaints about my love life. I want to hear yours instead. The sexy bits especially."
"Won't that make you think of—"
She mimes the zipper again.
"Won't that increase the problem of your horniness?"
She laughs and play swats me. "I can live with that."
Okay, well, I can deliver here. "We talked a little at the bar. He made sure I was comfortable. Then we went up to the room and he told me to take off my dress…"
She stares at me, hanging on every word. "He was bossy?"
"Clear in his preferences."
"What was he wearing?"
"A suit."
"Was he here on business?"
"We didn't trade that info."
"You're really never going to see him again?" she asks.
"We only agreed to one night."
"No. Wait. Back to the sex. You took off your dress, then…"
"He…" I hold up my hand.
She smiles. "He was good?"
"Very. And then we went to the bedroom and went against the wall."
"Hot. Kinky."
I fight a blush.
"We, uh, not that I'd ever talk about my long-distance relationship, but I floated something like that with Jamie."
"Oh?"
"I mean, say I did, say I was with someone—"
"Just talk about him."
"He shut it down," she says. "He's not game."
"Is that okay?"
"I don't know. I think… fuck, my mom might be right. I want the space to experiment. To try things. But what do I do?" she asks. "Either way, I miss him. And better to suffer and prove my mom wrong, right?"
"Does that make her suffer?"
"I think so."
"Makes sense to me."
She smiles. "How was your goodbye?"
"Abrupt. He had an emergency."
"You didn't get the entire night?"
I nod.
"So he owes you more."
"Maybe." It's a compelling argument.
"Is that why you're checking your phone all the time? Waiting for more from him?"
"Sorta."
"Check again."
"Are you going to look over my shoulder?"
"Do you want the truth?"
Okay. It's not a secret. And it's not like Izzie would share this with anyone. She's loyal.
I unlock my cell. Pull up my email.
And it's there. An email from Max.
From: Professor Max Morrison
Subject: Meeting times
I'm ready to start Friday.
"You fucked your professor?" Izzie puts it together immediately. When I start to reply, she shuts me down. "Don't lie. You can decline to answer, but don't lie. It's obvious."
"I didn't know he was my teacher."
"Your brother is going to kill him. That would be hot. Simon is so—"
"My brother. Gross."
"And hot."
I clear my throat. "It happened before he was my professor. You saw the story about Professor Barba. They were business partners. And friends."
"When did that happen?"
"About two weeks ago."
"So you were his distraction, huh?"
I guess so.
"Do you think you were a good distraction?"
"Don't objectify me."
"But you thought it too, right?"
I did. "I hope so."
"And now, what…"
"Now, I'm going to go to his office Friday and pick up the work I was doing with Professor Barba."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
"And you're not going to fuck him again?"
"That's the plan."
"Do you really believe that?"
"What's the alternative?"
"He left early, right?"
He did.
"So he owes you the rest of the night. After your study session… ask for another kind of study session."
"You watch too much porn."
"I don't watch any porn."
"Then you have too many dirty fantasies," I say.
"Oh really? I'm the one with dirty fantasies? You're not sitting here, doodling your professor naked?"
Ahem.
"Show me the sketches then. If he isn't naked in them?"
"No comment."
"You're considering it."
"No."
Maybe.
"Really, Opes, lie to yourself if you want, but don't lie to me."
For the next two days, Izzie and Simon duke it out in my brain.
She stands there, blue tendrils falling over her heavily lined eyes, badass and ready to proclaim her sexual desires to anyone who listens, yelling go after what you want.