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  “No, I saw her on the porch totally wasted, and I followed her inside to make sure she was okay.”

  “You just happened to see her on a porch on fraternity row, a place you’ve avoided for three years?”

  “Am I telling you what happened or are you interrogating me?” I asked. What I’d done had been bizarre. I didn’t appreciate the reminder.

  He eyed me.

  “Got it—it borders on stalker.”

  “No, you’re well into stalker land. You might even be the mayor.”

  “She does something to me. I felt like I needed to help her. I don’t know why.”

  “I know why,” he said, his eyes boring deeper.

  “Right,” I pressed my lips together.

  “Maybe instead of taking care of everything on God’s green earth, you should try taking care of yourself for a change.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that you’re acting like she’s one of your shelter animals. You’re like Noah, minus the ark.”

  “Do you want to hear what happened or not?” I asked, my voice sounding a lot more temper tantrum than I intended.

  “Fine,” he sighed. “What did she do after you carried her out?” he asked, clearly humoring me.

  “Forget it.” I forced myself to look past him, focusing instead on the line of students at the hot section. They had things occupying their minds, coloring each action, but it always seemed like other people could hide it better than I could. Maybe that was because everyone, everywhere, except for Kate, knew my burden.

  “Not every girl is Jeanie,” Tristan said, “and not every guy is going to do what those assholes did.”

  “Not every guy would do what I did for Kate either,” I said. What I wished I could have done for Jeanie, but didn’t.

  “Exactly,” he replied, clearly not budging that he thought what I’d done Saturday night was crazy.

  Maybe it was, but he hadn’t seen what I had. He hadn’t been through what I had. What Jeanie had been through because of what I hadn’t done.

  “Got it,” I huffed and sat back in my chair. “Noted that you’ve labeled me a stalker sleazeball.”

  He paused and made a circle with his pointer finger. “How about we fast forward to the good part?”

  I took a breath. “After I walked her back to the dorm we started kissing, and she reached under my shirt.” I stopped biting the inside of my lip. It was as intense as the shock of her on my skin had been; the fury I fought against when her finger and thumb teased at the button on my jeans. He’d asked for details but I was keeping those to myself. “We’ve talked since, but it’s weird.”

  “So we’re on the weirdness already?”

  “You told me to fast forward,” I joked.

  “Dude, you need your own variety show, you’re hilarious,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “Truthfully, though, I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about her.” I can’t stay away from her, I didn’t say.

  He took a bite of his sandwich. “And that’s bad because?”

  I shifted and lowered my gaze.

  “Hey, at least you’re both still talking. You know how many guys I’ve been with who pretend they don’t know my name the next day?”

  “They’re pricks,” I said.

  “Yeah, she’s not.”

  I took a deep, painful breath.

  “You think you need to keep punishing yourself, but you don’t. If you like her, you should go for it.”

  It was that easy for Tristan, but it wasn’t for me. There was too much I’d have to admit. Too much she would have to find out. Too much she would have to get past. It wasn’t worth going for when that was coming eventually.

  Besides, I wasn’t sure I even remembered how.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kate

  The first day sober after a binge, is there anything worse? I was about to find out. After missing Civics class yesterday, I had no choice but to go to Professor Parker’s office hours. Part of his job as advisor was to be available if I had any questions, or problems, or needs Hudson wasn’t meeting. In college-take-one I would have blown it off. I didn’t have that luxury anymore.

  I stepped in from the cold and checked my hair and makeup in the glass front door of the law building.

  Why did I care what I looked like? It wasn’t like I was going on a date with this guy. I pushed past my reflection. I was nineteen, a freshman, and his student. I’d already acted like one, missing class because of a two day hangover.

  Having had more than my fair share over the years, I’d learned hangovers were your body’s way of keeping you out of commission so you didn’t have to deal with what an ass you were the night before. Usually it was only the night before, but I guess I’d needed two full days to recover from the ass I’d made of myself.

  Professor Parker’s office was stuck at the end of the second floor next to a bunch of other offices of the same size. I wondered why someone with a law degree would choose to be a professor, especially at a small school like this one.

  Maybe being a lawyer wasn’t the answer for everyone.

  I could only hope it was for me. I didn’t have the time to change my mind anymore. My mother was always talking about my biological clock, but now I had a new timer—hitting thirty. If my decision wasn’t the right one, what would I do then?

  If I couldn’t keep myself in check here, what would I do next?

  “Ahh,” Professor Parker said, glancing up from his computer as I entered his office. “The sick roommate must be feeling better.”

  I nodded, hoping that would be the end of it.

  “Your friend Mr. Blackwood told me you needed to take her to the health center.” He took off his tortoise shell glasses so I noticed his eyes, his steady hands.

  Friend. How many twenty-nine-year-old women had a twenty-two-year-old male friend who they’d given a dental cleaning to with their tongue?

  “He’s my RA,” I said, hovering in the doorway.

  “Are you going to sit, or should we do this standing up?”

  His words threw me into a memory of David and me in his office doing it against his desk—shaking his pens and paperclips, sending his briefs and legal pads sailing to the floor.

  I wondered if Professor Parker made me think about David because I actually did miss having sex with him, or because he was the only guy I’d spoken to in over a week with a 401(k).

  I hurriedly sat down in the chair across from him. Put my hands on my knees and waited. Something about the way he talked made me want to do whatever he asked, like it had been with David.

  I’d liked it when David told me what to do. Not just because he was older and my boss. His demands gave direction to a directionless world.

  Professor Parker’s brown eyes moved over me like molasses in the desk light, his perfectly trimmed moustache cocked above his grinning lips. He might be a law professor, but in his kingdom he was still king.

  “Missing the second day would usually be grounds for never being allowed to call me Greyson.” He eased into a smile. “Mr. Blackwood saved you.”

  “He’s just my RA,” I repeated, a strange flurry in my chest. What did Professor Parker care what we were? What did I care what he thought we were?

  “At least I know it wasn’t an excuse for being hung over or something,” he replied, “because you don’t drink.”

  “You remembered,” I said, even though clearly I hadn’t kept my promise. Clearly I was still a little hung over from Saturday night.

  “A freshman rarely makes a declaration like that,” he said, lacing his hands together.

  Probably because there was no way in hell they would ever be able to keep it. What a jerk I was, going around telling everyone who would listen how I didn’t drink. What an even bigger jerk having to take it back.

  “I guess I’m not just any freshman,” I said, forcing myself to smile.

  I wasn’t, but not for the reason I was trying to ma
ke Professor Parker believe, make everyone believe with my new wardrobe and doctored transcripts and lies. I had the knowledge of the future weighing me down. How crappy life could be after college. The whole point of coming back here was to make my life the way I wished it could be. How badly I’d wanted to do things right the first time around; unfortunately my past seemed determined to chase me no matter what I did to hide from it.

  Of course, going to a frat party wasn’t hiding.

  He sat back in his chair. “I take it school is treating you well besides your roommate’s mysterious illness?”

  I nodded, even though who was I kidding?

  “Well,” he said, “if anything starts happening, you let me know.” He took out a sheet of paper with some questions printed on it. “Normally I would send you away to fill this out on your own, but I wouldn’t want you to have to deal with your roommate needing an amputation of something and forget.”

  At the top it read Orientation Intake Form, and based on some of the first questions: Age and High School Graduation Date particularly, I wished I was filling it out on my own, because from the beginning the whole thing would be more lies.

  “Name?” he asked. “No, wait, I know that one,” he smiled and wrote it in. “Age?” He looked from the top of my forehead down to my waist.

  “Nineteen,” I replied, keeping my voice level.

  “No wonder you seem so mature,” he said, writing it in. “It’s amazing what a year can do.”

  Even more amazing what ten can do.

  “Major?”

  “Pre-law.”

  “I knew that one too,” he said, writing it in. “Reasons for major?”

  “Reasons?” I stalled, because how was I supposed to say, I fucked up my life and I need a career now. I can’t take Women’s Studies like Dawn and spend five years after graduation trying to figure out what kind of a job that can get me.

  “Yes,” he said, glancing from the paper, “what interests you about the law?”

  I also couldn’t give my ultimate reason, giving David a heart attack when I walked into the courtroom in my Prada suit and Jimmy Choo heels, my lipstick so red, my bun so tight, my eyelashes like mascaraed daggers. “I like solving things.”

  It was the truth. Cases were so clear-cut. There was a right and a wrong side. The law didn’t get all jumbled up like life where, when things were wrong they still felt right.

  “Ah, a puzzle lover, that’s why I got into law myself.”

  “So, why are you teaching it?” I asked, immediately regretting it when his lips puckered.

  “Am I answering the questions, or are you?” he said, his lips still tight.

  “Sorry,” I said. It was easy to remember my nineteen-year-old role with Dawn, especially with Carter, considering I’d jumped him, but with Professor Parker twenty-nine-year-old Kate was peeking through.

  He sat back in his chair and handed me the paper. “Maybe you should finish this yourself.”

  At least I wouldn’t have to keep lying to his face.

  I headed out of his office and into the hallway when my phone vibrated with a text, Veronica asking me the latest.

  What was there to tell her other than I was failing? Not my classes yet, but in everything I wanted to transform myself into here. Every change I thought I could make. Hopefully Saturday night had been a blip. Hopefully I could use what I had let happen with Steph and Alex and almost happen with Carter as a lesson.

  I wasn’t sure why the last ten years hadn’t been enough of one.

  Clearly, I was an idiot. Sending a drunk back to college was like sending a fat ass to a fucking bakery.

  Being here was supposed to propel me back in time. But I was still just me trying to make something out of the mess that was my life. Being in college again made it hard to deny there was probably a lot more mess where that came from.

  I took out my phone and read Veronica’s text again. What’s up you crazy co-ed? I miss you.

  My lungs ached. I missed her too. I missed New York, my apartment, and even David. Seeing how I’d been acting since I arrived, I was starting to understand that perhaps he’d had no choice in doing what he’d done. It was keep holding me up or finally let me fall. I couldn’t blame him, but I wouldn’t last three more years if I kept blaming myself either. I wouldn’t even last another week.

  I put the phone back in my pocket and headed toward the library. It would be better to respond to Veronica after I’d done something a crazy co-ed wouldn’t do.

  It wasn’t even dinnertime but it was already dark, and the old Kate would have already been three wines into happy hour. The new Kate was going to finish her reading for class tomorrow.

  Or die of thirst trying.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carter

  Kate walked in and past the long wood tables near the entrance of the law library. My heart equally flickered and fell.

  I wanted to see her, but that also made me want her. It was a dilemma.

  She headed to my table. “I thought you got here at seven?” she asked.

  “Why, were you trying to avoid me?” It was a silly question considering she was standing right in front of me, but I guess I wondered if she was struggling with the same things I was when it came to us, or if I was genuinely damaged beyond repair.

  “You guessed it,” she joked. Her face was as shiny as the hardcover book she was holding.

  How did you keep your distance from someone when all you wanted was closeness? How did you get someone you never wanted to leave you, to leave you alone?

  “I just wanted to show you that I was sober and upright,” she said, running her hands down both sides of her body from her chest to her hips. It made me wish her hands were mine.

  I could have come back with something sarcastic and she might have expected me to, but instead I said, “I’m glad.”

  She joined me at the table and slammed her bag down. She sloughed off her coat and opened her book. She made herself known. How could I ignore someone who demanded my attention and deserved it?

  “I thought you didn’t want to study with me,” I said.

  “I’m not studying with you, I’m reading,” she said, showing me her shiny book.

  “There are lots of other places to sit,” I said, the words making me choke. What the hell was I doing? If Tristan were here he would have elbowed me in the balls, but he wasn’t.

  I was protecting myself, protecting Kate from ever knowing who I really was. I’m sure from her perspective I didn’t seem like someone who cared about her, but the only reason I was acting this way was because I truly did.

  “Wow, nice,” she said, starting to gather her stuff.

  “That came out wrong,” I said, saying anything to counteract the way my words made her mouth tremble, her eyes go dark. I held my hand out to stop her. “I just have a lot of work to do.” It was the lamest excuse ever.

  “You don’t have to lie,” she said, clearly seeing right through it. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

  “I don’t,” I said. “Please sit.” I didn’t want her to go, that was true, but I did still have to lie. I had been lying to her from the moment we met. Omission was a lie.

  She stood there, clearly not convinced.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice low.

  “So you were lying,” she said.

  “No, I’m sorry for acting like a dick to you.”

  “I probably sort of deserve it, anyway,” she replied, and something about the way she softened as she sat back down calmed me.

  “Probably,” I smirked.

  “Hysterical,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay dressed till the library gets a keg.”

  “I’ve heard it’s happened,” I replied, “after finals.”

  “I was joking.” Her brown eyes banked against mine.

  “So was I.” I slapped the table with both hands. “Actually, we don’t have to talk about it anymore. Let’s forget anything ever happened,” I said before I could
stop myself. My blood turned to ice, my stomach clenched. Tristan didn’t need to elbow me in the balls. I was more than capable of self-inflicting that level of pain.

  She paused, running her hands through her hair and looking away from me, like she was trying to hide her shock. “I was thinking the same thing. Saturday was a mistake, all of it.”

  I bit my lip, trying to hide my disappointment even though I’d asked for it. I never wanted to forget what had happened between us, even though I definitely should.

  It wasn’t what I wanted, but it had been years since what I wanted trumped what I had to do.

  She picked up her book and started to read.

  “Oh, I remember that class,” I said, trying to act normal, even though I felt anything but.

  “Bomb it too?” she asked.

  “Wow, you’re even funnier when you’re sober,” I said, leaning toward her, because even though I was trying to deny it, being so far away from her felt wrong. When it came to Kate the only thing that wouldn’t be a failure would be taking her into my arms in front of everyone, being able to admit I wanted her no matter what the consequences.

  “You should see me when I first wake up in the morning before I’ve even had caffeine,” she said.

  I couldn’t help picturing it. She was in bed next to me, naked under my sheets, her tits visible through the sheer white. Her lips glided slowly to my neck and my chest and down…my cheeks reddened. I cleared my throat and pointed at her book. “Actually I got a C.”

  “Then you’ll excuse me if I don’t ask for your help.” Her bottom lip twitched. “Not that I need it. I know everything from this class already. We had this one case—” She closed her mouth tight and focused on the table, like she was trying to hide what she’d said.

  Who was “we?” Had her parents been lawyers or something?

  “What am I talking about right now?” she said, making herself laugh. Her skin was ashen, her shoulders tightened.

  I could tell she was lying, but why? “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head like it was no big deal, “perfect. I just remembered I told Dawn she could borrow my laptop tonight.” She stood and got her stuff together before I could respond, her hands moving fast like I was a fire she needed to get away from.