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I’d always thought communication was key to resolving issues. It’s what I’ve learned in every psych class involving relationships. It’s ingrained in me.
But somehow, communicating with Nico brings us closer together only to drive us apart afterward. It’s like I can crack into the ice, but, hard as I try, I just can’t seem to melt it. I’m not making an impact. Nothing I’ve told him has jolted him into action and that frustrates the hell out of me. If I can’t get through to him, who the hell can?
Professor Gary stands up and inches toward me as I struggle with my jacket. A quick glimpse at the clock on his wall confirms that Sloane should be meeting me any second. I’ve already been in here too long, and judging from the look on the professor’s face, it’s definitely time to go.
This was a colossally huge mistake. I don’t care about transparency. Or night terrors. Or death threats. We can get through it. We have to, because the only man I want is the hot mess I have.
“I’m glad you stopped by, Shaye. I hope I was able to help,” he murmurs, moving closer still. I can smell his spicy aftershave, and that is way too damn close for comfort.
Shit! I gulp, backing away from his outstretched hand. I’m sure this is always how it happens. Dumb blonde co-eds make a bogus appointment with the professor for his insight into some bullshit problem when they really want insight into something else. My heel hits the back wall of the office, and I bang my head on a bookshelf. A sharp pain explodes across the base of my skull. “Yes, Professor, thank you. I, um, I’ll see you in class.”
I grip the doorknob and twist it left and right, unable to get the damn door open.
He slowly reaches around me and flips the lock. “It locks from the inside when it closes.”
“Oh, right. Uh, thanks again.” I push past him and his delicious musky scent. “Have a good day.” I manage a half-wave and spin around…directly into Sloane.
I cringe at the mischievous gleam in her eye as she regards Professor Gary and then me. And like most of the women on this campus, she peeks her head around me for a second to look at Professor Gary. And it’s a long look. I can’t bear to meet his gaze again, so I stare straight ahead, plaster a fake smile on my face for Sloane, and say, “Ready?”
“I think he definitely is,” she whispers, waving at the professor as I rush her out of the building.
“Holy shit, Shaye. What the hell happened back there? The temperature in that hallway was about a thousand degrees!”
“I had a meeting with him.” I cover my face with my hand. “I never should have gone. He totally got the wrong idea, and I—"
“And what, exactly, were you meeting about? I mean, I know psychology is all about the mind, but I think there was another head that wanted to get in on the action.” Sloane lets out a loud chuckle that tauntingly echoes in the open hallway of the building. Damn high ceilings.
“Just…a paper I’m writing.” I peek at Sloane out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes, the urge to sit my best friend down and spill all of my secrets is overwhelming. After all of this time, I’ve managed to keep her in the dark about most of the inner workings of my life. She’s my escape. She’s my normalcy.
Unlike Nico, who’s my chaos.
But the balance works for me. Sloane keeps me grounded, and Nico? He keeps me in the clouds.
She knows nothing of prostitution, sex clubs, drug running, or thug beat-downs.
There are plenty of times where I wish I knew nothing of those things, either.
“This paper…does it read like a dirty novel?” Her glossy lips curl into a wicked smile. “Is that what got him so hot?”
I let out a groan. “No, it’s actually about post-traumatic stress disorder, if you need to know so badly.”
She scrunches up her pert nose and jogs around to the driver’s side of her black Honda Accord. “Doesn’t sound sexy to me.”
“It’s not, trust me.” I pull open the door and sink into the leather seat.
“I don’t think Nico would be happy to know that his hot girlfriend’s hot professor wants to get inside of more than just her head.”
I smack my forehead with my hand as we fly through the West Village in the direction of the Lincoln Tunnel. “You’re impossible.”
“Nah, just bored on the guy front. I’d much rather focus on your drama than my own lack thereof.”
“Trust me, drama is way overrated.”
“It somehow finds you, though. Must be a gift.”
“More like a curse.”
“Is everything better with Nico? I remember you mentioning he’s a little stressed about work. Aren’t there enough bachelorette parties happening in the city every weekend to keep his business booming?” She laughs and speeds through a light leading us down into the tunnel.
