CHAPTER 11
Mara
The small classroom was dimly lit. A projected film was being shown, and the only sources of light came from the flickering screen and the small window in the door, a lamp outside barely illuminating it. It was late for us. Our usual class met in the afternoon, but since we had a film to watch, we were meeting later. It was a small group of us, the graduate students, crowded around a table, watching a film Nate—or I guess, in this context, he would be Dr. Evans—had picked for the Power and Fantasy in Literature and Film class.
He was Dr. Evans in the classroom. Even to me. I had to remember that.
As expected, I sat next to him. It was hard to pretend like he was only Dr. Evans to me. He exuded power and sexuality. The touch of gray in his hair, the subtle laugh lines near his eyes that made him seem wise, as if he knew better than me. That he would control me, soothe me, and propel me forward, using his own years to help guide me. The hint of sandalwood and masculine musk coming off of him made my mouth water. His lips. His lips had been soft, but demanding.
And then I couldn’t help it. He was Nate again.
Nate had kissed me.Kissed me.
Nate, not Dr. Evans, butNatehad kissed me on the rooftop of the Liberal Arts and Culture Building, not caring about the fact that we were still on campus, that we were in public, even if we were out of view. The passion had taken hold of him like it had taken hold of me, and with his hands in my hair, he had pulled me close. And I kissed him back. It wasn’t the kind of kiss you could forget.
His eyes, navy blue in the shadows, were focused on the film. In the grainy texture of an older movie, a woman frantically raced back and forth in a room full of sculpted eyes, huge mouths, a hill of a nipple, and her eyes widened as she found the sculptor. He grabbed her, forcing her down, taking all of her. His tangible muse.
What was I to Nate? Could I ask what we were?
No. It was a kiss. Nothing more.
But his words flashed through my mind:Think about what you want from me. And I’ll think about what I want from you. What did I want from Nate? The only thing I knew was that it wasn’t about the contest anymore.
Nate placed a hand on my thigh, surprising me. A surge of magnetic warmth cascaded through me, as if he was squeezing my soul. But I didn’t move. I pretended like nothing had happened. If any of the students turned and saw his grip on my thigh, that’s all it would take for a scandal to erupt. But everyone’s eyes were on the movie, including Nate’s. I forced myself to watch the film unfold, but my mind couldn’t get over the fact that Nate’s hand was on me. He was touching me. Claiming me. In the darkness of the classroom.
He removed his grip. One hand on his chin, the other arm crossed over his chest, contemplating the film. Even observing the film like that, my mind thought of how I could make him look like that in the dungeon. Observing me. Analyzing me. How was it that he had this much power over me?
It was wrong to want him. He was older than me, probably old enough to be friends with my parents. And it was outright appalling that he was not only my professor, but my adviser, my mentor, my partner in the Crossing Collaborations Contest. Like he had said, he technically did have a hell of a lot of power over me, and yet there was something satisfying to know that we were both willing to go there, to think about each other that way.
Suddenly, the lights came on and the film stopped.
“Our next class is at the regular time,” Nate announced. Everyone shuffled through their belongings, murmuring to each other. I did the same, though I was careful, methodical in my movements, keeping to myself, keeping Nate in my peripheral vision.
Right before a student approached Nate, he turned to me. “Walk back to the office with me,” he said. Jessica came towards me, and Nate focused his attention on the other student.
“Hey!” Jessica said. She grabbed my arm. “Are you up for drinks? We’re going to that dive across the street. Two for one margaritas.”
I could feel it in the air; Nate tensed, waiting to hear my response. “I’ve gotta go back to the office,” I said. I tilted my head in Nate’s direction. “Gotta grade the exams.” I had every intention of working. Once I was done with whatever Dr. Evans needed.
Whatever Nate needed.
Jessica glared at the back of Nate’s head. “He works you too hard,” she said. “He’s the one who needs a margarita.”
Nate made his way to the door, still talking with the student, and I walked on his other side, thumbing the strap of my bag. Jessica and the other students walked ahead. Soon, the other student split from us, and then we were alone, walking across campus. The trees covered the sidewalks in shadows. It was empty at this time of night.
“Did you have a revision of the essay?” Nate asked.
Was he talking about the film and literature class, or the prompt for the undergrads? My mind was so heavy with the fact that he was right next to me, that we were alone again, that I couldn’t think straight. I furrowed my brow.
“The Crossing Collaborations essay,” he added.
“Right. Yes.” I should have known.Thatrevision.I pat my bag. “It’s in here somewhere.”
“Good,” he said. “You should take another look at Berkley’sThe Consummate Gift. It analyzes the scope of power—” My mind blanked out. How the hell could he talk like nothing was going on between us when my mind was racing with images of him half-naked, spanking me over his desk? “—in sexual relationships.” I perked up. Had he said power and sex in the same sentence? “It might be relevant to your essay. The act of giving and taking, as a means to exchange power.”
My essay? “You mean ours,” I said. Nate grinned but said nothing. He held the door open for me. We were already at the Liberal Arts and Culture building. It was like someone else was moving me, the strings guiding me through the puppetry, a force guiding me to Nate. In the elevator, we were silent. It was magnetic, being close and yet so far from each other. Nate didn’t look at me, his eyes glued straight ahead. All I could do was steal glances, and hope that I wasn’t too obvious.
Our footsteps echoed through the hallway. No one was left in the department. Except for us.
