“Yeah,” he groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “You know she took my favorite armchair? Where am I supposed to watch TV now?”
“Get another chair?”
“She left me the house but took almost everything in it. My mattress is on the floor, dude. And she left me the dryer but took the washing machine. What am I supposed to do? Wash my clothes in the sink before tossing them in the dryer?”
I’m trying my best not to laugh at his situation because I’m sure it’s truly frustrating, but a choked chuckle escapes my lips, earning me a glare.
“I’m sorry, it’s really not funny,” I apologize. “Meghan always was… a little vexing.”
“Why did you ever let me marry that woman?”
“You said you loved her,” I point out.
“I was obviously mistaken,” he mutters.
“Yeah, Jared, I’ll go help you find some new clothes and things for your house.”
He pushes himself to his feet and grins at me. “Thanks, I knew there was a reason I called you my best friend.”
He starts to make his way toward the door and has just stepped into the hall when I call after him. “If you get married a second time, can I be your best man again?”
First, his middle finger appears, then he leans his head back into my office. “I already promised Elijah he could be my best man since you’ve already had your turn.”
I’m shaking my head and laughing as his footsteps echo down the hall.
I text Summer to ask if she wants to meet at my place for dinner later, before I pull up my syllabus to change the dates for the new semester.
Even though I just spent winter break with her, any day spent apart, I find myself missing her. Like there’s a gaping hole in my chest that only she can fill. I don’t know how I’ve found myself here. Falling for your student is so cliché. And the fact that all of these feelings have just bombarded me after a few months? It’s not something I can wrap my head around.
I try to remember how my parents described falling in love, but I can’t remember if they knew how long it took them. Can someone fall in love in a matter of months? Weeks? Can someone fall in love at first sight?
But I do love her, that’s blatantly obvious. I’ve loved her for a while. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.
There had been something between Summer and me that very first day when we crashed into each other. I felt it the second my skin touched hers. And despite how hard I had tried to fight it… I wasn’t able to stay away from her. Ihadtried. Hell, even Summer tried. Every obstacle we’ve faced, every decision we’ve made has only made us stronger. I hadn’t been looking fora relationship when I met Summer, but just the thought of how much time I wasted while trying to push her away makes a dull ache throb in my chest. How many more memories could we have made together if I hadn’t been so pig-headed?
There’s a sharp knock on the door, breaking me from my spiraling thoughts of my relationship with Summer.
I glance up to see Dean Callahan standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a stern look fixed to his face. “Professor Stirling?” he says sharply. His brows furrow, and his lips purse into a stiff frown. “We need to talk.”
31
SUMMER
I enter Asher’s apartmentwithout knocking late in the evening when I know he won’t be in his office. “Hey!” I call out as I strip off my jacket. “How do you feel about Chinese food?”
Asher is standing in the living room with his hands in his pockets. “Summer,” he says in a low voice.
I toss my jacket over the arm of the couch before wrapping my arms around his waist. “I know we had Chinese after we got home from the airport, but I’ve been craving it all day,” I groan, letting my head fall back so that I can look up at him. I poke him in the side when he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even smile, just stares at me like he’s about to tell me someone died. I notice that he hasn’t put his arms around me, hasn’t reacted at all to my touch. “What’s wrong?” I ask slowly as I back away.
“Someone… alerted the dean and the board that we were seeing each other.”
“What?” I sputter. “That’s not funny, Asher.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” he snaps. “Someone left a goddamn photo of us in my car, clearly—” He takes a deep breath through his nose as he tries to get his emotions under control.
“Clearly what?” I question, even though I know the answer.
“Fucking.”
