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Never.
Chapter Three
Yesterday was a test of self control that I was proud of myself for passing but just as irritated. We’d barely exchanged any words, yet she lingered in my mind, consuming my every thought. How could she do that? It was equally astounding and infuriating, allowing this girl to have this much control over me.
Maybe I should’ve pursued a new career when my life went to shit. Becoming an author, like I’d always dreamed, would’ve kept me a recluse and away from tempting girls with pretty eyes and fuck me lips. Even in the whirlwind second day of the fall semester, surrounded by chaos and distractions, the insistent throbbing in my pants demanded attention.
I knew it was unprofessional, constantly maneuvering myself around desks and chairs to hide my growing arousal, but my students saw everything. If I was being honest with myself, they likely already knew what I was trying to hide.
But no matter how hard I tried to push her from my mind, Winona lingered there, just out of reach, taunting me. The only relief was not having a class with her yesterday. Today, unfortunately, I wasn’t as lucky. And I’d be lying if I said I couldn’t wait to see her again.
“Flat white to go,” the barista called out from behind the counter, his dark hair hidden beneath his uniform cap. I stepped forward, giving him a strained smile as I reached for the paper cup waiting for me. As my hand wrapped around it, another hand darted out before immediately pulling away.
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
The feminine voice caught me off guard, and my head snapped toward her. She had sandy-blonde hair with sun-bleached streaks throughout, perfectly curled and styled. She smiled up at me, her artificially whitened teeth glistening in the cafe.
As she scanned me, I did the same, taking in her knee-length white sundress that contrasted her sun-tanned skin. Her silver jewelry caught the light, giving away her wealth. Her cross-body purse hung from her shoulder, its thin strap nestled between her breasts. I couldn’t help but wonder how anything could possibly fit in such a small bag or if it was just for show.
“Looks like we ordered the same thing,” she said with a friendly smile.
“Appears so,” I mused. The warmth of the coffee seeped through the cup into my palm, grounding me. Just a year ago, I would’ve played into this meeting. I would’ve flirted and prolonged this conversation as long as I could. I knew I wasn’t unattractive—if I were, I wouldn’t have been able to bed as many girls as I had—but I think it was my age and power that truly drew their attention. Maybe my money.
Money I no longer had.
The lightness in my chest faded as bitterness bloomed, and I ground my molars together. I shoved the cup toward her, and she stared at it before lifting her eyes to mine, clearly picking up on the shift in my mood.
“Take it,” I insisted.
“I couldn’t?—”
“I’ll get the next one.”
Her head tipped to the side as she assessed me, making me feel like a fly under a microscope. She saw too much. It felt like everyone did.
“Professor Ashford, right? Classic Lit?”
The inside of my mouth turned to sandpaper. “Guilty,” I rasped, forcing a dry chuckle out.
“I knew I recognized you.” She laughed softly as she grabbed the cup from me and brought it to her mouth. Her pale-pink lips wrapped around the tiny hole in the plastic white lid, and she took a hesitant sip, testing the temperature, her eyes staying on me the entire time.
I ran through every name I’d learned in the last two days, but I didn’t even recognize her face. A year ago, she would’ve been someone I remembered. But now I had a dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty taking up residence in my mind.
“I’m sorry.” I huffed a guilty laugh. “Refresh my memory. Your name?”
“Cassandra Miller,” she all but purred.
“Cassandra.” I rolled the syllables around, not liking the way they felt or sounded in comparison to Winona’s name. She ran her bottom lip through her teeth, her hazel eyes on me. Always watching. Always weighing. Never letting me hide.
I was stripped bare in the middle of this café for her and the rest of the world to see. All my insecurities, how unsure I was of my new position at this school, the obvious hangover I was still sporting—the truth oozed from me like a stench I couldn’t get rid of.
“Flat white to go,” the barista called again. He looked between us, then quickly away. What had he seen? Did he think I was flirting with her?
I ignored the slight tremor in my hand as I reached for the new cup. Holding it tightly, I moved my attention back to her. “I’ll see you in class,” I said, and she took another sip, her eyes still on mine. It was unnerving.
“I’m heading that way now.” She turned, letting her hair fall over her shoulder, revealing a little cross tattoo. “I’m in the two o’clock class.”
My stomach was in knots as I nodded toward the door. No matter how badly I wanted to get away from her, I couldn’t be rude to a student, could I? “Of course.”
