“Have you ever done this with a student before?” Wren is full of questions, and for good reason. If I was in her place, I would want to know these things, too. Based on that last question, I can assume she’s wondering if she’ll be this semester’s fascination, and if I’ll drop her come the start of summer.
I can only tell her the truth: “No. You’re the first. Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of putting my job on the line. I might not need the job to survive, but my life would be boring without anything to do. I enjoy what I do. You were… you were a surprise.”
I’m well aware she might not believe me. With any luck, she does—and if she doesn’t, then I’ll simply have to prove my loyalty to her over time. There are some people who would look down on our ten-year age difference, not to mention the fact that I used to be her professor, but I’m not one of those creepy professors who flicks from student to student, trying to get all the young pussy he can. That’s just not me. It’s never been me.
After a moment of silence, Wren whispers, “This is crazy, isn’t it?” She leans her head back and stares up into my eyes, and I bring the hand I have draped over her back to her face, taking her chin between my fingers.
“Crazy is a subjective term,” I tell her, something she already knows deep down, and then I kiss her. The kiss is warm and soothing, the kind of kiss that’s between two people who’ve been with each other for a while, not between two people who are new to all this. It’s comforting, simple, and easy, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I would never give her up. Nothing and no one could take her from me.
We stay like that for a while, our mouths locked together, the constant, low push and pull of our lips all we can feel, along withthe heat our bodies share being so close together on this winter night.
It’s beautiful. I don’t want it to end. I want this moment to last and last, for an eternity to pass us by without either of us knowing.
Alas, something like that will never happen. I can’t forget about Logan, and I’m sure she can’t forget about him, either. Whether or not he proves himself to her is up to him; I gave him the chance, and now it’s on his plate whether or not he takes that chance and uses it to his full potential.
I’ve seen him staying up late, working on a song. I don’t know what he plans on doing, but it’s not something I’ve seen him do before, which leads me to wonder if he’s channeling his old self a bit.
Selfishly, I hope he crashes and burns, but I also know that Wren likes him. She might even love him, and when it comes to love, it’s indescribable, unexplainable.
Of course, there’s more I want to show her. More of my own darkness. Logan might’ve made it through my maze, but there are at least two other people out there who I’d like to let loose in it. Her ex and the asshole who hit her that night.
One thing at a time, though. I don’t want to completely overwhelm her tonight. I think finding out her masked stranger’s identity is enough excitement. I suppose, ultimately, I could even leave it up to her, whether I let either of those people loose in my maze.
We lay there together for a while, until the small candles I brought start to flicker out and threaten to lose their flame. I think it’s safe to say our blood has cooled, and the night breeze is an unwelcome thing, unrelenting as it blows around us.
“Well,” I whisper, “I suppose I should take you home.”
“You mean you’re not going to make me walk?” Though it’s spoken as a joke, she must also be referring to the fact that I did make her walk here alone.
“Seeing as how you’d recognize my car, I think the mystery of my identity wouldn’t have lasted nearly as long as it did,” I tell her with a short grin.
Wren and I are slow to sit up as she says, “I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about that.” She yawns. “I am pretty tired. You know how to tire a girl out.” She goes for the nearest candle that’s still burning and puts the cap on it, helping me clean up without being asked to.
It’s an easy thing, existing with her. A comfortable silence. Together, we make short work of the space, and together, with the candles and the blanket in our arms, I lead her to where my car sits a little ways away, far enough away from the nearest street lights so it wouldn’t be so noticeable.
I turn the heat up in my car and wait for it to warm up before I drive her home. In the passenger seat, she buckles her seatbelt and I reach for her hand. Our fingers entwine, and I let out a happy sigh.
This is what it’s supposed to be. This is life. And Wren? She’s my everything.
Chapter Seventeen – Wren
I fall asleep the moment I hit my bed. I had Reese drop me off a few houses down, and then walked to the back door, slipping inside so I wouldn’t wake Sloane and Elias. I’m going to have to tell her about Reese, but that’ll be a job for another day.
I’m so tired, so freaking exhausted, that I don’t wake up once, and by the time I come to the next morning, it’s nearly lunch time.
Dang, I can’t remember the last time I slept in that late, minus when I was groggy on pain meds after the accident—but I’m not going to count any of those days.
When I finally get up the next day, or technically later that same day, I hop in the shower and rinse off the evidence from last night. Not that anyone will be checking my body for signs of, uh, sex, but it’s always a good way to start the day. Fresh. Clean. New.
The masked man was Reese all along. Honestly, when I saw his face above mine after taking off his mask, I really wanted to smack myself. I should’ve known. The signs were there. I kind of felt stupid for not putting it together before.
I don’t know what this makes me and Reese. Are we together? It isn’t like he asked me to be his girlfriend or anything, but at the same time, when he was talking about me and how I was always meant to be his, it certainly sounded like he was taking ownership of me.
I guess I’ll have to talk with him and get some clarification next time I see him. He’s always a text away, but that’s not something I want to do over messages. No, I want to see his face, read his expression. Sometimes things come across wrong, especially in tone, over texts.
My phone goes off when I’m eating lunch, and I instinctively assume it’s Reese, but it’s not. No, it’s someone who hasn’t texted me in a very, very long time.
