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What would’ve happened if they hadn’t walked in? I was turning toward him, ready to seek out his perfect lips. I would’ve kissed him like the fool I am. I would’ve done whatever he wanted me to do, no questions asked, only for him to treat me like another one of his hookups. He would’ve walked away from me without a problem. I know he would’ve. I don’t matter that much to him. Do I?
I’m so glad I didn’t kiss him, despite how badly I wanted to see if his lips tasted just as good as I remembered.
Waking up Sunday with a horrible hangover and plenty of regret, I knew then I had to make some big changes. Like getting rid of Knox as one of my students.
But that didn’t work. The advisor informed me that there is no one else available to take over his tutoring sessions. I can either continue on and finish out the semester with him, or quit like a total loser and force him to figure out another plan to get through his English class.
I can’t just abandon him when he struggles with English so much. It’s one thing to hand him over to someone else. It’s another thing entirely to just leave him without any help like some sort of heartless savage.
Now it’s Tuesday afternoon and I’m entering the library full of trepidation. I couldn’t sleep last night. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, I finally gave in and grabbed my phone. I ended up writing out an entire planned speech to Knox in my notes section. It’s all about how we should just have a professional relationship and I don’t need to go watch him at his football games or hang out with him socially. We can meet twice a week for an hour, I can help him with any of his English homework or papers, and that’s it.
We crossed a line and I still feel terrible about it, but it will never happen again. I’m stronger than that, and so is he. We know how to handle ourselves in a professional manner. We’re adults, for God’s sake. This doesn’t need to be a problem.
I’m fifteen minutes early for our appointment and I know no one else uses our reserved room for at least a half hour before our scheduled time, so I’m shocked to find the room already occupied.
Then I realize it’s Knox sitting at the table. Seemingly waiting for me.
“Oh.” I stop in the doorway of the room. I’d hoped to gear myself up for this little discussion I have planned. I was even going to go over my notes. “Hi.”
His expression is grim, and his hair is a mess, like he ran his fingers through it again and again and possibly even tugged on the ends. There are dark circles under his eyes and there’s scruff on his cheeks and chin as if he hasn’t shaved for days.
It’s a good look for him, unfortunately. He’s still breathtakingly handsome. That shock of golden-brown hair, those intense green eyes. The lush mouth and strong jaw…
He’s clad in sweats, but I’m wearing black dress pants and a dark gray button-up shirt. I’d wanted to look as professional as possible, wearing my clothes like armor to defend myself against his intoxicating presence.
“Hey, Joanna.” There is no spark in his gaze, no jovial tone in his voice. He is as dark and as dreary as a storm cloud, and I’m almost afraid to sit down at the table.
Almost.
I close the heavy wooden door behind me and make my way to the table, settling into the chair across from him. I set my book bag on the table and flip it open, pulling out my iPad and a notebook, along with a pen. I consider opening my notes app to all of the stuff I wrote last night but decide I can do this on my own, without a script to follow.
Clearing my throat, I rest my arms on top of the table, my smile faint. Polite. Professional. “Want to get started early?”
He nods, his gaze downcast, flipping the hoodie string lying on his chest back and forth with his thumb.
“There are a few things I’d like to go over with you first though.” Another clearing of my throat, annoyed that it’s clogged with nothing but thick emotion.
It’s not easy, rejecting someone in a sense. I feel terrible for having to put such distance between us, but it’s for the best for the both of us.
“Okay.” His gaze barely lifts to mine, holding there for a long, distressing moment.
My brain panics and goes blank, and I look away from him, trying to gain my composure.Shit.What was I supposed to say again?
Professional. Keep your distance. You’re his tutor, he’s your student, that’s it.
Right, right.
I nod once, lick my lips and announce, “I think we need to keep things on a more professional level between us.”
At the same exact time, he quietly confesses, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
We both go silent, me clamping my lips shut while he stares at me with his lips parted. Like he might want to say something else.
“What did you just say?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Don’t let him repeat it, Jo!My inner voice screams, while my body buzzes with awareness, anticipating him saying those words again, and how good it’s going to feel to hear him say it.
“I said, I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, his searing gaze never leaving mine.
