In Too Hard (Freshman Roommates Trilogy, Book 3) (19 page)

He could have been writing every day for the past month I supposed, but I didn’t think so. If I had to guess, I’d say that Billy Montrose was on his first real writing jag in five years.

I didn’t slide off the couch and elbow crawl my way across the floor, or anything, but I was quiet as I left the couch and put on my clothes. I could tell he saw my movement—there was a tiny flinch in his jaw—but his fingers kept flying and I kept quietly putting myself together.

I would have loved to watch him work all night long, but I sensed this might be a pivotal moment for him, and I didn’t want to impose, even as close as I felt we were. I guess you didn’t get much closer than him being inside me.

No, that wasn’t true. I’d had sex with boys with whom I’d never felt close to. In fact, I’d
only
had sex with boys for whom I had no feelings.

But that had been before. Now that I knew what it could be like with someone you liked, admired, respected and…okay, loved, I could never go back to casual hook ups just to feel good, or worse, sleep with someone with the hopes that they’d like me more.

No. Never again. I knew it would end with Billy after the semester, but that was okay. Tonight he’d given me a gift much more precious and valuable than the beautiful scarf.

Fully dressed, I made my way to the desk. As I approached, Billy finally fully noticed my movements and he looked up, a distant look in his eyes. His focus came back on me, and he smiled. “Hey, did I wake you?”

I shook my head. “No. I need to get going.”

He looked at his laptop with a look of regret. “Sure. Let me walk you home.” He started to rise, but I waved him to sit, which he did.

“No, it’s fine. It’s not that far to the dorm. And nobody’s out. I’ll be okay.”

He started to argue, but I kept going. “Besides, you can’t really be seen walking me to my dorm in the middle of the night. I have my pepper spray.” He smiled. “And don’t forget, I come from the mean streets of Queens. I can handle myself.”

He laughed, the sound loud when we’d been speaking so softly. “I’m sure you can. And, you’re right, I probably shouldn’t be at your dorm. I’m sorry about that.”

Not wanting to start the whole “this is wrong” conversation again, I quickly said, “No worries. You keep working.”

I rounded to his side of the desk and as I did, he lowered the lid on his laptop, then smiled at me sheepishly. “Sorry. That was just instinct. I usually don’t let people—”

“Shhh,” I whispered as I leaned over him. “I understand. But I just came over to say thank you for this.” I wrapped the scarf he’d given me around my neck a couple of times. “And to give you this.” I bent down lower and pressed my lips to his.
 

Immediately the embers sparked to flames and he reached for me. As easily as I could have slid onto his lap and taken off the clothes I’d just put on, I didn’t want to mess with his flow. Or be the reason he stopped. I slid out of his reach, but he grabbed an end of the scarf and held on.

Sliding the luxurious material between his fingers, much like he’d done with my hair earlier, he said, “I like how this looked before better.” Looking at me with animal desire in his eyes, I had to step back or I knew I’d be on top of that desk in seconds, his laptop long forgotten. Part of me really wanted that. But the part that loved Billy Montrose wanted him to keep on writing, more.

At least this time.

He let go of the scarf and I smiled, silently promising him there would be many more nights where he would be able to see me in nothing but the unique garment.

“Text me when you get to your dorm. If you haven’t texted in fifteen minutes, I’m coming after you.”

“I will,” I said. As I pulled my coat off the hook he again made to rise, but I motioned him to stay. I pointed to the closed laptop. “Open it,” I said as I unlocked and opened his office door. He did. “Write.”

He smiled at me, and after I shut the door behind me, I stood in the deserted hallway a moment and listened. It was hard to tell for sure, but I was pretty certain the clacking of keys began right away.

I walked back to Creyts not even noticing the fierce February wind.

A
fter I texted Montrose that I was in my room and he responded, I took a long shower, put on my pajamas and left the door to my room from the bathroom open. I was unpacking my bag from the day at my desk when I heard Jane shuffling into my room.

“Hey,” she said as she entered. She was bundled up in her comforter and she crawled onto my former roommate Megan’s unused bed.

Megan had gone home to Nebraska after the first week because her mom had died. She’d hoped she’d be back for this semester, but she hadn’t shown in January. At first I’d texted with her a little bit, but I hadn’t heard anything in a while. I wanted to reach out, but I was also trying to respect her privacy. I had barely gotten to know her before she was gone. I knew if it had been me, and my mother had died, I’d be at home now taking care of Duncan and Liam. There was no way my stepfather would have let me go back to school.

 
I’d waited for Housing to move someone else into our suite, but they didn’t, even with Megan not coming back for second semester. So, her bed was mostly a gathering spot for Jane and/or Lily when they came over to my side of the suite. Sometimes I was really grateful to have the room to myself, often times I truly missed having company, even though Lily and Jane were just a bathroom away.

 
“Hey,” I said back to Jane as I laid the scarf over my coat, my fingers stroking the fabric. “Sorry I woke you.”

“You didn’t. Or I don’t think you did.”

I felt bad about bailing on Jane tonight, but I could see that under her comforter she was still dressed in leggings and a top. “Were you out?”

“No, I stayed in.”

“Sorry I had to work,” I said. Pulling back my wet hair into a ponytail, I moved over to my bed and climbed in. “Lily with Lucas?” I asked. Jane nodded. “That’s nice, that he was able to get Valentine’s off and that they can be alone together,” I said.

“I guess,” Jane answered, shrugging. Unsentimental as always.

I thought about Lily and Lucas out tonight. He’d probably taken her out to dinner. Maybe they’d gone somewhere else after for dessert or dancing. I knew I would never have that with Billy. I wouldn’t have traded the past few hours for anything, but to have him look at me like he had, but over a candlelit dinner in some restaurant would have been nice too.

I sighed and stretched, placing my arms over my face, trying to blot out the thoughts of the road blocks that Billy and I would face for the rest of our time together. “It’s so easy for them, hey?” I said, thinking again about Lily and her boyfriend. “They both know they love each other. There’s no drama. No should-they-or-shouldn’t-they. It’s nice, right?”

I could feel Jane’s eyes on me, but I kept my face covered. “Well, it wasn’t easy at first, remember?”

That was true. “But it was never because she didn’t trust her feelings, right? It was just shit that got in their way,” I said.

Jane didn’t answer, I guess caught up in her own thoughts.

“It’s just so hard, you know,” I said. I wasn’t really talking about Lily anymore, but I didn’t let on about that to Jane.

We lay in silence for a bit more, then I heard Jane get off Megan’s bed (I still thought of it as her bed) and make her way to the connecting bathroom. “This new?” she asked.

I looked up and saw her holding the scarf. I nodded, and willed my body not to blush. “Just got it,” I said. It was true, but I knew the answer was nondescript enough that Jane would figure I’d gotten it in the past few days. I propped myself up on my elbows and watched Jane hold the scarf that had recently kept me warm after Billy left me sleeping on the couch to start writing.
 

“It’s beautiful,” Jane said, sounding sincere.

“Thanks,” I said. Jane held it up to the light, then draped it back over my coat on the chair. The colors shone more brightly in this light than the dim desk lamp of Billy’s office.

“Good thing you picked up a second job,” Jane said as she turned to leave.

I wanted to tell her to stop so I could tell her everything. I wanted someone else to know of my joy, and yes, my confusion over my feelings. I wanted to tell her that my second job was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and that the scarf wasn’t a purchase of my own, but a gift from the man I’d loved for five years. To tell her that he’d thought of me while skiing in Switzerland and had held the scarf against my quivering skin only hours ago.

But of course I couldn’t tell Jane any of that. Nor Lily. And certainly not my mother, or anyone else back in Queens.

Montrose was mine, at least for the semester. But he was also a secret.

“Yeah, good thing,” I said quietly as Jane walked out of my room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Syd

I
t was, one hundred percent, the best month of my life. We fell into a comfortable routine. But unlike before when our routine consisted of avoiding each other’s presence, now it was built upon being near each other any chance we got.

I would nearly run to Snyder Hall when I was done with either classes or my shift at the admin building, depending on the day. I’d work on the many boxes he’d bring over from his apartment while he was either still teaching or reading his students’ papers.

If I was sorting piles of notes, he’d sit behind his desk to read. If I was transcribing, he’d read on the couch and I’d take his desk.

We’d keep the office door open when we were both working to ward off any gossip and in case students wanted to consult with him. He had standard office hours, but Montrose liked to be accessible to students. Not for the first time, I thought he made a good teacher, and that it was too bad that this gig was only for one year. I thought about that part, about him only here for a year, a lot.

Most days, I’d leave and meet Lily at the caf for dinner. Jane was still MIA most afternoons and evenings, though I guess she could have been in the room all the time and I wouldn’t have known it. There seemed to be an air of secrecy about her, when I did see her.

I didn’t try to break through it, having my own secret to protect.

Billy and I had decided to keep the boxes coming here and not to have me work out of his apartment. For one, we knew we’d probably be a topic of rumors for just me working for Billy, we didn’t want to add any fuel to that possible fire by having someone see me coming or going to his home. Bribury was a small school, and there wasn’t one female on campus who didn’t know who Billy Montrose was, whether they’d had his class or not.

For another thing, the old leather couch was temptation enough to quit early each day, we didn’t need the added risk of a full-sized bed nearby. We’d never get any work done.

Not that the couch was the only surface in his office that we’d take advantage of as soon as I’d get back from dinner with Lily. The desk, his chair, the guest chair, the credenza… They all saw their fair share of action.

And the floor. Oh, the floor. One evening I had piles of his notes all around me, when I heard him leaving his chair. Brushing past me, he quickly closed and locked the door, turning off the overhead light, leaving just the soft glow of his desk lamp.

I looked up at him, a question in my eyes. My body always heated up the instant he shut the door and locked it, because I knew that soon he would be touching me, making me melt, making me feel special, making me…his.

But usually he’d wait until I’d packed up for the day, or was done with a particular box, not when I had notes scattered in various piles all around me.

He stood with his back against the door, staring down at me. The lamp seemed to reflect off his eyes and it was easy to see the desire there. The desire I saw every time we were in this office.

“Ever since that first time we talked on the phone and you said you were working on the floor. And then you stretched out. It was before we FaceTimed, and I only heard your voice, but I imagined you stretched out here, my work, my characters, my thoughts spread around you… It was just such an awesome vision.”

“I remember,” I said, my voice rough and deeper than normal.

He pushed away from the door and went down to his haunches.

“I never forgot,” he whispered and crawled to me, papers crinkling under his knees, skittering away under his hands as he made his way to me. “Do it,” he said. “Lie back.”

I did. And it was crazy erotic having Billy Montrose make love to me on his office floor with the sound of his life’s work crunching around—beneath—us.

It was later that same night, as he was helping me clean up the mess we’d made (and had no guilt whatsoever about) that I came across notes about Aidan Colly for a book just named
GP
in his notes. I recalled a
GP
folder from the day I’d opened all his docs, but it was one I hadn’t gotten to before he came in and blew a nut.

“Aidan Colly?” I asked him. “You’re doing a sequel?”

His face, so clear and at peace moments ago when he’d been inside me and looking down into my eyes, turned troubled, and I instantly regretted the enthusiasm that must have been in my voice. “I didn’t think I’d seen any notes on a sequel before,” I added, looking around, putting a no-nonsense tone into my voice. Like my heart wasn’t pounding with the thought that my author lover was going to continue on with my favorite literary character ever.