To Professor, With Love (5 page)

***

Half an hour later, we were already overcrowded with chicks slurping down their fifty-percent frou-frou drinks and horny dicks hoping to reap the benefits. I watched the new guy make a sale, smiling uneasily at a girl who handed him her phone number along with her cash payment. Once she turned her back, he tossed the slip of paper discretely into the trash.

Easing up to his side when he reached for the wrong nozzle to make a Tom Collins for the next girl who was unable to take her eyes off him, I silently corrected him, physically taking his hand to reach for the right lever. “Jesus, you’re popular tonight.
I’m
supposed to be the big deal around here, but every single woman who comes up to the bar passes right over me to check
you
out.”
Must be a fresh meat thing
.

With a roll of his eyes, he muttered, “Have at ’em. I’m not interested.”

I snorted. “Yeah, I could tell.”

About to inform him he could field them my way the next time some randy girl wanted to hand out her number, I caught sight of a familiar face approaching the bar. Relieved to know someone was here to see me, not Lowe, I leapt forward with a ready smile. “There’s my favorite groupie.” Reaching across the bar to catch Tianna by the back of the neck and haul her halfway across the counter for a quick but deliciously dirty kiss, I smiled appreciatively at her.

“Hey, Noel baby,” she said, distracted, immediately pulling away from me so she could crane her head and peer around me to get a look at Lowe. “Who’s the new guy?”

When her eyes glittered with straight-up lust, I gritted my teeth and seared Lowe with a lethal glance. He only smirked as if amused by my jealousy. His loose-shouldered shrug seemed to say,
Hey, what do you want me to do about it
?

No way was I letting go of my favorite football groupie. So I turned back to Tianna and lied through my teeth. “That’s Milo. Just got out of the pen. He’s married with three kids.”

But the lie didn’t seem to deter her in the least. She kept staring and even tossed her hair before wiggling her fingers at him in a cutesy wave before introducing herself.

Fuck. I didn’t think the guy was that good-looking, but apparently he was some kind of freaking catnip for women. The bastard.

Tianna’s stalkerish stare seemed to skeeve him out though, because he helpfully added, “Four kids. We have another one on the way.”

I grinned, deciding he might be okay after all.

“Where’s your friend tonight?” I asked Tianna, taking her hand to play with her fingers and coax her attention back to me. “You guys still keeping my rain check on that threesome you offered me?”

Tianna finally tore her gaze away from Lowe. “Oh, sorry. Marci had dance class tonight. So we’ll have to do it another time. But yeah, don’t worry. She’s still good for it. I swear that girl’s panties have been wet for you for months. Ever since I introduced you two during that party after the last football game, she will not stop talking about you. It’s actually annoying.”

“So, she talks about me, huh?” A slow grin spread across my face, my ego suitably fed, knowing
someone
still preferred me over freaking Mason Lowe. And her name was Marci. Cute.

“Well, I hate to make a girl suffer. What say you hook us up sometime? Soon.”

“Sure.” Her gaze returned to Lowe as she kept talking to me. “You going to that frat party next weekend?”

“Next weekend?” I groaned. “You’re killing me here, Tianna. I need something before next weekend.”

She let out a harassed sigh and sent me a scowl. “Okay, fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re the best.” I hauled her in for another quick kiss. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure to bring your new friend there to the party too, and I’ll pay you back…big time.” She ran a fingernail down my cheek as her face lit with a devious smile.

I was about to tell her not to even try with Lowe, he seemed attached to his girlfriend, but Ten appeared behind her. “Tianna!” He gave her a loud slap on the ass. “You ready to give me another go yet?”

Snorting, Tianna spun around to cross her arms over her chest and glare. “I haven’t lost my mind yet, so…hell no. Touch me again, and I’ll kick your nuts up into your throat.”

As she stormed away, I let out a low whistle and winced at the mere thought. Ten had some kind of talent. He was the only guy I knew who could piss off the queen of casual sex. Tianna never got mad at any guy, for anything. Made me wonder what the hell he’d done to offend her. Then again, he
was
Ten. The possibilities were endless.

After watching her march away, he turned to grin at me. “She totally wants me. She was asking about me, wasn’t she?”

I laughed. “Between kissing me, staring at Lowe, and setting me up with one of her friends, no, your name didn’t come up once.”

“A setup, huh? Who’s her friend?
Dr. Kavanagh
?”

Narrowing my eyes, I pointed at him threateningly. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut up about that,
I’ll
kick your nuts up into your throat.”

“Whatever, man. You know you want your teacher.” Then he put in his order to Mason and started flirting with a pair of ladies sitting at the bar.

The sad thing was, Ten was only teasing me about her because he was sure I didn’t want her, while, Jesus, even the mention of her stirred something inside me.

I should’ve gotten Marci’s number from Tianna. I needed something—anything—to flush thoughts of a certain dowdy teacher from my head. Because if this kept up, I’d no doubt find myself in a shit bowl full of trouble.

***

When closing time came, I put Lowe on cleaning duty. While he was wiping down the back counter, his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and, I swear, as soon as he saw the I.D. on his screen, his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Hey, sweet pea,” he answered, his voice going all husky and private, letting me know he must be talking to his girl. Tucking the phone between his shoulder and ear so he could continue his work, he chuckled in response to something she said. “It’s been...interesting. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. Oh yeah?” His eyebrows shot up, and I could only imagine what else his girl was suggesting they do when he got home, because all kinds of horny lit up across his face.

I couldn’t seem to look away as I watched him talk to her, though. It was just so...strange. The guys on the football team who had steady girlfriends never looked happy when their old ladies called to
check in
. They were rarely faithful to their girls, always hooking up with one-night-stands whenever we had out-of-town games. It made me wonder why they even bothered to stick with one girl.

Now that I thought of it, I hadn’t grown up around
any
monogamous couples in my life. My mom had rarely brought home the same guy more than twice, and all the marriages in our neighborhood ended in divorce or widowhood. So, okay, it really was rare for me to see a guy talking to his girl as if he wanted to talk to no one else in the world. And he looked so damn happy about it, too. It was kind of...sweet.

When he hung up with her, still grinning, Lowe pocketed his phone and went back to work, looking as if he’d just won the national championships or something.

“Who the hell was that?” Ten wanted to know as he neared the bar with a handful of glasses that needed to be cleaned. “You just win the lottery, newbie?”

“Hmm?” Lowe turned and glanced at him. “Oh. My girlfriend. She just wanted to know how my first night went.”

Again with the sweetness. It was a little endearing to watch such a pure, open emotion light his face when he talked about her. I was suddenly very curious about girlfriends and monogamy. Maybe they weren’t as awful as some of the guys on the team made them seem. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to settle down with one person.

I mean, no one had ever called me just to see how my day had gone. No one had cared. I knew my brothers and sister loved me, but they’d never checked in just to reassure me whenever I was nervous as hell before a big game, or huge test, or even asked me how something had gone. Not that I bothered them with that kind of shit; they had their own problems to worry about.

But maybe, I don’t know, maybe it’d be nice if—

“God, newbie, you are so whipped.” Ten snorted and was off again, wiping down tables as Pick swept the floor.

I turned away and finished counting the cash register, slightly mortified by my own thoughts. I had no problem getting female companionship in this town. Most of my teammates complained about how lucky I was. Why the hell was I daydreaming about something else?

Another quick glance at Lowe, who was cheerfully humming—yes,
humming
—under his breath, told me exactly why though. He had something good and dependable, something that made him happy and brightened his entire day. He didn’t have to meet a new girl each night and try to learn her in a couple minutes so he’d know how to charm her into a bed. He already had someone he probably knew inside and out, and who no doubt understood him in return. He didn’t have to pretend to like her stories just to get her shirt off or act like some badass quarterback to keep up an image. He could just be himself with her, and enjoy life.

For the first time in my life, I was jealous of someone in a committed relationship. It felt really uncomfortable, but I just couldn’t seem to help myself. Lowe looked so damn content. And I wanted something like that for myself.

CHAPTER FIVE

“All I ever wanted was to reach out and touch another human being, not just with my hands but with my heart.” - Tahereh Mafi,
Shatter Me

~ASPEN~

I loved the smell of popcorn. It was the forbidden scent of a youth I’d never been allowed to taste. Carbonated sodas had also been taboo in my home growing up.

As soon as I paid for my Pepsi and popcorn combo at the concession stand, I had to take a quick suck from my straw and scoop up a handful of buttery deliciousness straight off the top of the tub. A couple kernels tumbled off the overfilled sides and fell to the concrete floor to mix with fallen popcorn from all the purchases past. I loved it. It was so messy and carefree, something that would’ve given my parents a coronary.

“Thanks,” I muffled out my appreciation to the girl who’d just handed me my snack. My parents would’ve scolded me for talking with my mouth full, but here, no one cared. Delighting in my shameful deviousness, I turned and nearly plowed into two girls waiting in line behind me.

“I have an algebra class with him, and oh my God, he is so fine,” one of them was saying, not even realizing I needed to get by.

“True that.” The second girl fanned herself. “I’d have Noel Gamble’s babies in a heartbeat.”

Oh, brother. Rolling my eyes, I muttered a harsh, “excuse me,” and turned sideways to slip between them. But this was bad. I was lusting after the same guy as a pair of airheaded teenie-bopper skanks. What the hell was wrong with me? And why the hell was I making my obsession worse by attending the spring scrimmage...where he would obviously be playing?

Maybe because I actually loved football, despite how much all the other professors I worked with senselessly thought it should come before a good education. Or maybe I just wanted to watch Noel Gamble in tight pants throw a ball around all afternoon long. I shivered from the thought and entered the football stadium through the first gate I found. My seat was two sections over, but I didn’t mind the walk. It helped clear my head for what I was about to watch.

A couple players were on the field, warming up, but I didn’t know who anyone was by their number or with their helmets on, so I focused on finding my seat. It had been taken by a pair of squatters, but I ran them off with a meaningful glance to my ticket before sending them my arched-eyebrow teacher stare.

Once settled in with my popcorn in my lap, I pulled my ball cap lower on my head, hoping I’d disguised myself well enough. Going incognito was also part of the fun. Since I’d never dared to do anything my parents had disapproved of when I’d lived at home, I’d never had the thrill of sneaking out.

Here, where it was perfectly fine for me to attend a game that would appall Mallory and Richard Kavanagh, I didn’t really have to sneak. But it was still fun to pretend. Besides, I didn’t want to be recognized as
Dr
. Kavanagh just now. Students always approached with some kind of assignment question, and right now, I just wanted to be Aspen, spectator of hot men in tight pants—er, I mean, of football. People didn’t tend to recognize me when I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with the campus mascot of a Viking on it. So I went with it.

Lifting my hip just enough to pull the roster I’d purchased and rolled up from my back pocket, I unfolded it and immediately checked for you-know-who’s name. He was number twelve.

Twelve became my new favorite number.

The only off-season game, this scrimmage was an exhibition. And boy, was I ready for a show. Delving into my popcorn, I ate handfuls at a time and sucked on my drink, feeling surprisingly young and lighthearted. Mmm, refreshing.

Raised by two university professors who’d had me in their forties, I sometimes felt as if I’d never been allowed a childhood. I’d been expected to rise above the rest; and I usually had. When I’d started school, I’d immediately been stuck in gifted classes. I’d always been younger than all my classmates and yet expected to act as mature as they were, if not more mature because of my IQ. And since no one ever wanted to associate with the freak, genius girl, I’d never had any friends who might’ve taught me how to be a normal kid.

Today seemed like it might be one of those days where I could feel as blithe as I wanted to.

This end of the stadium was shaded perfectly from the afternoon sun, so when a gentle wind blew across my face, it actually chilled me a little. I cuddled deeper into my shirt, curling my shoulders forward to keep in as much body heat as possible, only to jump when a rowdy group of guys in the next section over burst out laughing amongst themselves.

I glanced their way and smiled slightly at how much fun they were having. The perplexing dynamics of friendships had always eluded me, but in a curious way. Just because no one had ever befriended me didn’t mean I hadn’t observed the social cliques over the years, or yearned to be welcomed into one. I watched, and wondered, and envied.

But as I watched them, the shine on my euphoria dimmed, and my shoulders slumped while the loneliness crept in. The rowdy group grew louder as the guys jostled each other and passed friendly insults back and forth, setting up a pecking order of sorts. Honestly, how could friends be so mean to each other and call each other names I wouldn’t pin on my worst enemy, only to smile and laugh as if they’d handed out the ultimate compliment?

God, I wanted someone to call me a dirty name and then sling an arm around me, squeezing me with genuine companionship.

With my next glance at the loud boys, my brow wrinkled with jealous irritation. Did they have to rub in their happiness like that? I knew good and well I was all alone over here without a single—

“Getting to you too, aren’t they?” the man next to me asked as he glanced over and took in my expression.

I blinked and turned my attention to him, startled to find him smiling at me. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties with light brown hair and tea-colored eyes to match. Wearing loose blue jeans and a T-shirt supporting the college, he could be anyone.

Rolling his eyes to exaggeration, he tipped his head toward the rowdy crowd. “Seems like it’s always my luck; I get stuck by the unruliest group of immature idiots in the entire stadium.” Just as he said that, every guy in the rowdy bunch stood up as a trio of pretty girls passed. Whistling and catcalling at them, they lifted their shirts to show off their painted bellies, which spelled out the word “Viking” with each letter on a different chest. The impressed girls laughed and shouted back compliments but kept walking.

“See what I mean?” My companion set his elbow on the back of the empty seat between us, which made him seem suddenly very close. “Idiots.”

I sent him a small smile, not about to confess I’d been craving to be an idiot right along with them. “At least they excel in school spirit,” I answered diplomatically.

Throwing back his head to reveal a strong tanned neck, the man laughed. “That’s probably the only thing they excel at. I swear I’ve flunked at least half of that crowd.”

Sitting up straighter, I perked to attention. “You’re a teacher at Ellamore?”

With a regal kind of nod, he held out a hand. “Philip Chaplain. I’m a professor for the history department.”

“Then we’re neighbors.” Brightening, I took his hand. I knew the history department building was located next to Morella Hall, my building, but I’d never met any faculty from there. “I just started this semester, teaching literature.”

Surprise reigned on his features before he gave an uncertain smile. “You’re a graduate assistant?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m straight up faculty. Like you.”

It usually annoyed me when someone mistook me for a student or a mere teacher’s assistant. But Philip was being so nice, I forgave him without a thought.

Again, he looked surprised and confused before his face cleared. “
Oh
,” he drew out the word as recognition lit his eyes. “You’re the—” Gaze traveling over my face and down my body until his eyes paused on my chest, he nodded. “Yes, of course you are.”

Those four murmured words confused me. Of course I was
what
? Had even
he
heard I was the only professor on campus willing to flunk Noel Gamble? Maybe Frenetti had been right; I was going to get a bad reputation if I didn’t—

“Your reputation precedes you, Dr. Kavanagh,” Philip cut into my thoughts, his smile flashing with genuine warmth. “We’ve all heard about the youngest faculty member to ever teach for Ellamore, but no one from my department has actually met you yet. We were beginning to think you were a myth the English people had created, because you know, they do like their fiction.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes at his corny pun. “Yes, we do. But I can assure you I’m quite real. Please, call me Aspen.”

“Aspen,” he repeated, his eyes taking on a husky kind of glow and his voice lowering. “A lovely name for a lovely woman.”

I flushed from head to toe, not sure how to take such a compliment. I kind of liked it, but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to.

Before I could stumble out some halfhearted thank you, the game’s announcer broke in over the speaker system, kicking the day’s events into gear.

Philip and I turned our attention to the end zone where a gigantic Jumbotron sat. A series of two-second clips from various players flashed across the screen, creating an inspiring monologue from the team as a whole. When they showed Noel wearing a number twelve jersey with a ball cradled in his large hands, my insides jumped with restless energy.

“It’s about that moment when everything comes down to nothing but the drive and determination to succeed,” he said to the crowd before a new player’s face lit up the entire screen.

Still picturing number twelve though, I pursed my lips, remembering another “D” word he’d used to describe the game he played. It hadn’t been drive or determination, but desperation.

I still wondered why he’d said that and what he’d meant. It’d been two days since our meeting in my office and he’d yet to turn in his revision paper, but I was curious to learn why he’d chosen that one word.

“So, you like football, huh?” Philip’s voice broke into my thoughts and I literally jumped, making him chuckle and reach out to set a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. “Sorry about that.”

I waved my hand, instantly forgiving him. “No, it’s fine. I was...woolgathering. But, yes, I’ve always enjoyed watching. It’s almost like a chessboard, but more...physical.” Rolling my eyes, because I probably sounded like an idiot, I sent him a bashful smile. “There’s not a lot of contact in my vocation, so I’ve always been curious and somewhat stimulated by it.”

Glancing up to catch his reaction, I abruptly decided
physical
,
contact
and
stimulated
might not have been the ideal word choices. That glimmer in his eyes he’d gotten when he’d said my name returned.

His lips twitched with an amused smile. “I love it when a woman is stimulated by football,” was all he said before the people in the crowd around us flew out of their seats and began cheering. I ripped my attention away from Philip and turned to the field to see all the players making their big entrance. Immediately, I stood up with everyone else.

It didn’t take me long to find player number twelve. He was jogging near the front of the line, wearing a maroon jersey, while half the team wore white. With his helmet on and his pads making his shoulders impossibly wide, he epitomized the perfect football star. I held my breath and brought my knuckles to my mouth, stretching up onto my tiptoes so I could keep a constant visual of him.

“With Gamble as a senior next year, I think we’ll take national championships, no problem,” Philip said, leaning in toward me.

I jumped, already having forgotten he was there. But seriously? How had he known to mention Noel Gamble just when I was thinking about him? Ugh, probably because I was always thinking about Noel Gamble.

I sent the history professor a weak smile. “So, he’s that good, huh?”

Philip’s grin was knowing and kind of flirtatious. “Just watch. He’s the best QB we’ve probably ever had.”

“Hmm.” I tried not to appear too intrigued. But there was no way to mask my anticipation twenty minutes later when Noel’s side took the offensive and he jogged onto the field. On his first play, he wound back his arm as soon as the center snapped the ball into his hands. With perfect precision, he zipped it toward another player racing down the field. His receiver didn’t have to slow down or speed up. He didn’t even have to stretch for the catch. He merely cupped his fingers and the pigskin landed within the gloved cradle of his waiting palms.

“Oh, my God,” I murmured, astounded. “He could be the next Aaron Rodgers.”

Next to me, Philip moaned and then laughed as he set his hand over his heart, wincing. “God, please don’t tell me you’re a Packers fan.”

With an arch of my eyebrows, I turned to him, ready to defend my team loyally. “Of course. Why, which pro team do you support?”

“Hello. We’re in Illinois. I’m Bears, all the way.” I wrinkled my nose, but he was quick to add, “But my favorite quarterback in the league is Tom Brady.”

Nodding, I let him have that one. Brady wasn’t bad. Not bad at all. But... “I’m pretty partial to Alex Smith myself.”

This time, it was Philip’s turn to nod as if allowing me that concession before he added, “At least you didn’t say Manning.”

I grinned. “Which one?”

He pointed at me, a big grin spreading across his face. “Hell, you do know your quarterbacks. Very nice, Dr. Kavanagh.” He never did tell me whether he was talking about Eli or Peyton, but he seemed so impressed by my sports knowledge, I guess it didn’t matter.

Pleased I’d been able to impress him, I smiled back and reminded him, “It’s just Aspen.”

“Right. Aspen.” As his gaze heated in that interested-male way of his, I bit the inside of my lip, not sure what to do with all his attention.

Around us, the stadium went crazy. I wrenched my attention to the field just in time to see number twelve dodge a hulking defender and leap into the end zone, scoring a touchdown.