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Her brow creases, shifting her whole face from one emotion to another, “I think I’ll just go home,” She says, sounding hurt.
“I mean, do you have someone to stay with.” I’m quick to add, “If there is someone following you, I don't think you should be alone is all,” I offer. Trying to sound like my professional self, but every word sounds more like a command than a suggestion and she feels it.
“I might drop by the campus police, it’s on my way,” she says airily. Seeming to have made her mind up about a few things once it’s clear she'd rather go home and be alone.
“I don't think that’s a good idea” I start to say, but she’s quicker to cut me off.
“I think I can make my own mind up about whether I want to report anything or not,” she says hotly.
“You’re my Professor…” She continues, her voice suddenly full of emotion. Those tears welling up again, “You’re not my-”
But she stops herself.
“Not your what?” I ask her gruffly, “Not your boyfriend? Not yourdaddy?”
The question flies outta my mouth. Too many years teaching poor little rich kids, I guess. Whenever the going gets tough for them, it’s usually daddy who buys them a Porsche or an investment portfolio to cheer them up again.
It’s a cruel thing to say and doesn't apply to Violet, but her pushing me away when I'm so close is only making me say and do dumber things by the minute.
“Bad habit…” I murmur, “Psychoanalyzing everyone,” I confess, shrugging a little before searching her eyes for forgiveness.
Her eyes narrow and she crimps her mouth, wanting to be mad at me but I saw the light in her face when I said daddy.
Don’t need to be a celebrated psychologist to spot daddy issues.
But maybe I’m the one with the deeper problem. According to Dr. Lutz and the Dean, I’ve got a whole suite of borderline issues.
But three’s a bigger series of problems ahead if I don't do something to make her mine. Being this close to her and not being able to touch her is like torture. It’s god damned insulting is what it is. And waiting for a freshman to make a pass at me?
I may as well go stitch my potato sack tunic to climb the tower and go live in the monastery.
But if it’s me who has to make the first move, being off campus is the best place. But Violet surprises me again when she declines a ride home.
Try as I might, talking with her some more, she agrees to let me walk her home, at least some of the way.
But I just can't seem to get her to say the one word I'm dying to hear from her lips now.
The one word playing in stereo next to her name in my mind.
A word I never thought I’d crave hearing from her as much as I crave everything else about her.
Chapter 4
Violet
Idon’t know what to make of things by the time we’re walking out the campus gates, side by side. All my fear and worry about someone stalking me vanishing the longer I’m with him, replaced with this weird, rising urgency in me.
Professor Valentine, like any good Psychologist, has stirred up so many emotions and feelings in me. None of which I can decipher and none that make me feel anything other than frustration mixed with a huge desire for him to touch me again.
The charge I get when his huge hand presses gently on my back as we leave his office stays with me long afterwards, becoming some kind of treat that I’d get down on all fours and beg for without even knowing why.
Okay, so maybe I know why. It’s just-
Well let’s just say I’m not the most experienced girl on campus when it comes to romance. And by romance I mean sex.
The kind of sex every girl but me seems to be having, hell. Even my elderly neighbors are at it most nights. So where does that leave a girl like me?
All my feelings of insane attraction mixed with my own self loathing kinda blend into one awkward tingling ache in my belly. Because I just know that even if I was the kind of girl he'd be interested in, he’d never mention it. He's my college Professor for god’s sake.
