Someone to Love (22 page)

Cruise needles me with the beginnings of a
nefarious smile. He’s blooming to life, and it’s all for me.

The entire class breaks out in a viral gasp
as if Cruise is doing something insanely unnatural like levitating
or swiveling his head 360 degrees. But this is completely natural,
and perhaps the best part is, it’s directly in response to yours
truly. I hope.

Cruise digs in a smile and his dimples
ignite. I want to dive into them. I want to dive into Cruise, use
him as a covering and a shield. My eyes roam back down his body,
and I take him in, fully formed and beautiful as his body
pridefully salutes me from too far a distance to fully
appreciate.

Cruise Elton just gave me the best birthday
present ever, and he doesn’t even know it.

Cruise

Kendall Jordan is a real live wet dream. And
if I’m not careful, my dick is going to involve the authorities
soon because I’m a thousand percent sure having an erection in
public, while seated in front of the student body, is something
akin to a felony.

I drink Kenny down with her creamy white
skin, her pink lips burst like cherries. Her chest swells like two
perfect cantaloupes, the dark hair buried between her legs is like
a sea of ripe currents, and suddenly I’m very fucking hungry for
cantaloupes and currents.

I try to absorb what’s happening. That
somewhere in the innocence of trying to purchase a winter coat for
Kenny, I’ve put my new position as “professor” on the line and now,
in a sudden turn of events, I’m not only naked in front of
strangers, but in front of the woman I love. And I do love Kenny.
Come hell or high water, I’m going to let her know tonight. Whether
or not she decides to speak to me afterwards is entirely up to her.
She didn’t care for the fact I kept my status as faculty from her.
I’m guessing spontaneously exposing myself in her art class is
something she would’ve liked to have been clued in on—especially in
the event she were about to shed a few layers herself.

Professor Webber steps in and looks right at
me. “Good job,” she whispers. “Never in all my years of teaching
have I seen something like that before. Have you considered a
career in the adult film industry? You have serious equipment that
shouldn’t be ignored.”

I shoot her a look. I don’t feel the need to
propagate the fact I’m well endowed. I’ve long since been aware of
the fact it’s an anomaly. The last thing I want is to freak Kenny
out and send her running for vaginal cover, opting for less amply
gifted men to contend with like Cal and his nonexistent member.
Which reminds me, I’ve yet to beat the crap out of him.

“Turn around so the rest of the class can see
you.” Webber motions for us to face the other direction, and my
dick retreats from its performance position. It’s like its trained
to stand at attention whenever Kenny is around.

I try to settle my gaze on the clock on the
wall. Nothing like staring down the minute hand to make the time
crawl by.

A blond in a red coat smiles at me, and
everything in me freezes.

Blair. If there’s one thing in this world
that can kill my hard-on faster than a wrinkled hag suggesting I
try my hand at porn, it’s my ex-girlfriend.

Just when I didn’t think things could get any
worse.

I can feel her looking at me, burning a hole
through every square inch of my body with her unwanted stare. Blair
had her chance with my flesh, and she wasn’t interested in keeping
me or my dick around, so I don’t know what makes her think I’d be
desperate enough to let her back in my life. Although, if Kenny
weren’t here…if I never gave her all of my power without her even
knowing it, would I want Blair back? I’m quick to deduce a
flat-out, no.

The hour finally draws to an excruciating end
with my manhood rendered temporarily peniplegic thanks to the fact
Blair held me hostage with her libido-killing lasers.

I pick up a robe and cover Kenny from behind,
brushing her hair with a kiss that could have easily been mistaken
for nothing more than the simple act of passing, even though none
of the ways I love Kenny can be classified as a simple act of
passing. Everything about the way I plan on showing her my
affection, both physically and emotionally, will be nothing short
of well-engineered.

“I believe you dropped this.” Blair pipes up
from behind, and I take my robe from her before whipping it on.
“Good show.” She tilts her head into me.

Kenny has already made a beeline for the
dressing room, so I don’t mind unleashing a little bit.

“The show wasn’t for you, Blair. Nor will it
ever be.” I don’t wait for the shocked look to register on her
face. Instead, I dart into the room where I left my belongings and
do a quick change, so I can catch the woman I love before she races
back to the West Coast for good.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say, catching up with
Kenny outside the art building. The evening sky encroaches
overhead, desolate and grim with ominous clouds that hold a soft
blue patina. “You strip here often?”

“Not as often as you salute the queen.” She
gives an impish grin. Her hair whips around her neck in long, dark
sheets. “It’s my birthday.”

Everything in me breaks for Kenny. She
fidgets with her backpack, and her perfectly painted nails shine
like sirens. Her sweater slips off her shoulder, and her bra strap
is showing. A part of me wants to fix it, fix everything for her.
But she’s sexy as hell and perfect, and there isn’t a thing about
her I want to change.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was your
birthday?” A strong ache pulls in the pit of my stomach. Everything
about today must have been pretty lousy for her, starting with me
attacking her with my towel, the sad confession about her
stepfather’s words, then the finale—baring her perfect body to
fifty different students when I wish to God it were only me in that
room with her.

Professor Webber makes her way outside,
flagging us down in a panic. “I’m glad you’re still here.” She
hands us each a check. “You’re both welcome back, anytime. Of
course, you’ll have to be paired together. Your chemistry sizzled
off the page.” She winks over at me before darting into the
unseasonably clear evening.

Kenny and I emit giant white plumes with our
heavy breathing as if we were on the cusp of discovering something
far more intimate about one another than our bare bodies could ever
reveal.

Kenny waves her check in the air. “Food and
rent.” She tries to hand it to me, but I won’t take it. Kenny did
that out of obligation to me. She wanted to help. “I thought maybe
you could call someone to look at the heater, but it somehow
magically fixed itself this morning.” She shrugs.

My stomach hardens like a stone when she says
it. She wanted to repay me—help me fix the furnace I wouldn’t turn
on in hopes she’d keep landing in my bed night after night. I’m
worse than a predator, and I hate myself for it.

“Well”—she wraps an arm around my waist. I
can feel her shiver as she tucks in close—“let’s get me to a bar
and celebrate the fact I can legally inebriate myself. God knows I
need a stiff one.” Her eyes spring wide as she realizes her
Freudian gaff.

“Beer or wine?” I ask, trying to keep a
straight face.

“Oh, honey, I think this calls for something
much, much
harder
.”

I tick my head back a notch as I take her in.
Kenny is a vixen in a league all her own and she doesn’t even know
it.

Maybe that slip wasn’t so Freudian after
all.

In fact, I do believe Kendall Jordan just
propositioned the hell out of me.

“Happy birthday, Kenny.” I press in a gentle
kiss, soaking in all her beauty as I pull away.

“Thank you, Cruise.” She bats those doe eyes
at me and reduces me to a big ball of hormones just begging to
detonate.

I’m going to tell Kenny that I love her on
her birthday.

Who knew?

The night, glows in hues of purples and navy
with fresh snow on the ground as we head out to properly inebriate
Ms. Jordan. I followed Kenny home, so I could fulfill my role as
designated driver.

The University Bar and Grill glows like a
pumpkin lit up on Halloween with all the same devilish intent that
particular night conjures—along with an assortment of pornographic
implications thrown in for good measure.

“Drinks!” Kenny hops up and down. I’ve never
seen her take a sip of anything remotely fermented or manufactured
in a microbrewery, so the fact she plans on hitting something
“hard” amuses me on every level. I predict I’ll be washing out
vomit from the inside of my truck in about three hours.

We walk up to the pub and I lay my hand over
the frozen door handle, pausing for a second.

“You want to talk about what happened in my
class?” I can feel my Adam’s apple rise and fall as I swallow. “I
know that had to be tough for you.”

“It’s my birthday.” It comes out far sadder
than expected. “Maybe some other time.” She reaches up and cradles
my face for a moment, and her lips part as if she’s about to say
something profound, but nothing comes. I’m not sure what I
expected. Hell I know what I wanted, but what I want and what I get
seem to be two different things on a consistent basis.

I open the door, and the scent of perfume and
tequila wafts over us, creating an equally intoxicating
combination. A blast of rock music hits us like a volatile force
field as we engulf ourselves in the questionably upright
establishment. We play bumper bodies as Kenny leads us to the bar
in haste as if she’s afraid they might run out of liquor before we
get there.

This was the place to be on any given night
when I was keeping myself physically entertained—“dick kicks” is
what I lovingly referred to the time I spent trolling these
unsacred halls.

“Sex on the beach!” Kenny chirps to the
bartender before she hits the stool.

“I can make that happen,” I shout up over the
live band that’s busy destroying a perfectly good set of speakers.
Hell, I’d make any fantasy come true for Kenny.

Her tongue runs over the top of her lip, and
she intensifies her gaze into mine like a promise.

“Looking forward to it.” She relaxes her
elbows on the bar and rocks steady to the music.

“So what are you looking forward to
tonight
?” I lean in until our shoulders touch and order a
beer I plan on nursing until Kenny passes out.

She scans the room and frowns. “I don’t know.
I was thinking about having a fire sale with my virginity. You
know, get it over with so I can start mishandling the boys at
Garrison.” She gives a quick wink.

I think we both know she’s not that
person—that she never really was. But maybe all she needs is one
more push in the wrong direction to realize it. I just hope once
she does—she also realizes she might have feelings for me. Because
what I’m feeling is too wonderfully large, too fucking fantastic to
ever be one-sided.

“Body shots.” I pull my cheek back, no smile.
“Lesson for the day is letting some slopped-up, drunk, virally
hormone-induced frat boy lick your stomach clean.” I try to hold
back a laugh. If that doesn’t send her running for the hills, I
don’t know what will.

“Body shots?” She looks around uneasy as she
chews on her lips. God, how I’d like to chew on those full lips for
her. “So you’d let some frat boy defile me that way, huh?” Her face
deflates at the idea.

My heart gives an unnatural thump, alerting
me to the fact I should probably say no. That I should pony up
right here, right now at the bar, and fill her in on a few
pertinent details about how I really feel—how I’d hang any frat boy
by his shoestrings who tried to get anywhere near her, including my
ex-pal, Cal.

She swallows hard at my omission of words and
bolts over to the viper pit, teeming with profusely tanked Greeks,
at the other end of the room.