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Amy
We made it across campus easily enough. It was quiet, with most students clearing off to avoid any trouble, and enjoying the unexpected free day. Aaron held my hand clasped tightly in his, with no sign that he worried people could see. As long as I’d known the professor, I’d known that he didn’t care what people thought about him. Now the veil had dropped between us, he didn’t give a fuck if the faculty found out. It didn’t matter to me; I was an adult, and soon I’d be done here, and lost in the world, but this was his job, and he was good at it. I hated the thought of him burning bridges, and his reputation here, for me.
We made it to the parking lot before the trouble found us. There was a group gathered around the dean’s car, guys in hoodies, like a drawn-up hood, was really going to conceal their identities. There was a horrible smell in the air, like aerosol sprays, and as we neared, I could see that they were making a mess of the faculty cars.
“Look here, it’s the dragon professor, Mr Asshole,” someone called as we neared. Aaron continued, unperturbed, toward his car, which was so far untouched. “Hey, I’m speaking to you,” the voice said closer, and a guy stepped in front of us. Aaron stopped immediately, tugging me behind him.
“I heard, Mr White, but I was doing you a favour in not acknowledging it. Tempers are running high today. I think it best not to make it worse,” Aaron said. His tone hadn’t changed from his usual terse, dry humor. Vic White, one of the school’s football stars, and one of the guys that had been suspended, sneered.
“Cut the clever words act. You’re a dick, just like the rest of them,” he said, and jerked his head toward me. “Don’t pretend to be better than us. You like fresh college pussy too, clearly,” he said and then swayed in, clearly drunk. “Word of warning, though, professor. Be careful what you do because even though she’s holding your hand now, tomorrow she could turn around and say she never wanted to in the first place… then your ass is toast,” he said. Fury built in me and must have shown on my face, as Vic looked to me, and coloured, turning even redder than he already was. “What, you got something to say, bitch?” he started, and stopped as Aaron’s hand landed on his chest, pushing him back.
“Don’t start something that you’ve not got the capacity to finish, Mr White. It won’t end well for you.”
“So what, I’ll start it if I want,” Vic sneered, and then lurched into a slow, obvious right hook. Aaron simply stepped aside, tugged me behind him, and Vic’s punch hit the air beside us, and made him stagger. “Stop moving like a little pussy, bitch. Fight me, like a man,” he goaded Aaron, who merely laughed. His crisp, mocking tone sent chills up my arms. There it was, the darkness that called to me from the man beside me. The smallest slither of edge that promised that Aaron Cole wasn’t quite right. The edge that fascinated me.
“But you’re not a man, Mr White. You’re a boy, and a sloppy, ignorant one at that. Not even your daddy’s money can save you, or summon enough charm to get the girls you want without Rohypnol.”
Aaron then moved so fast, I didn’t quite see what happened. One moment, Vic was staggering toward us, and then he was falling back so fast his head cracked hard on the asphalt. Aaron crouched beside him, looking perfectly unruffled.
“And the truth is, you’ll always be this way. Desperate, unwanted, unloved… merely suffered by people. There is no escape from yourself, and I pity you. Know that if you do manage to have a family, or friends one day, they pity you, too.” Those quiet, confident words were devastatingly delivered, with soft cold precision and certainty.
Then, with a wintry smile that chilled me, Aaron stood and held his hand out for mine.
“Come on, little one. I’m taking you home, away from this human filth,” he said, and stepped cleanly over Vic, who was staring at him in a daze. I took his hand and followed.
* * *
So,Aaron Cole didn’t live on campus. In fact, he didn’t live in a house that was anything like I’d imagined. It was a campus house, well, near enough campus, and outside seemed tidy, if spartan, but inside was another story. The dark wooden floors, and tasteful art, and array of antiques that dotted the surfaces spoke of a kind of restrained, quiet wealth that I had little experience with. It was hugely luxurious, but not in any showy, or definable way. Even the air smelled expensive and cultured inside.
I stood in the hall, taking off my Converse, suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the differences between us, not only in age, but social position. I was a poor grad student, until recently, working two jobs to get by. Aaron was not only older than me, more intelligent, travelled and cultured, but he was apparently loaded too. I felt completely out of my depth.
“Come on, let’s have some coffee,” he said quietly, watching me with those intense dark eyes that were always too knowing. I looked down at my socked feet, and fought down a curse, as I saw my toe peeking through a hole in one of them. Yep, I was definitely feeling the difference between us right now. I followed him down the tasteful hallway to a beautiful kitchen, full of high-tech appliances and shining counters. There was a vast array of cookbooks along one wall, from every country imaginable. I trailed my fingers along the spines, as he busied himself at the counter, and an intimidatingly fancy coffee machine.
“I wouldn’t have imagined that you cooked much,” I muttered.
“Why not? It’s a fun challenge, and you get to eat the fruits of your labour. It passes the time,” he said, turning on the machine, and letting the sound of steam forcing through delicious smelling grounds fill the air. He was leaning against the counter and watching me as I catalogued his personal space. A collection of records by the window and a vintage player. Rows and rows of books, and an antique clock collection, all set to different times.
“Foreign markets?” I wondered, jerking my head toward them. He nodded silently. I turned back to the books that lined the wall and looked at the titles. A whole lot of business books, classics. Even foreign editions. I pulled out one and lifted it for him to see.
“You speak Italian?”
“It passes the time,” he repeated. My eyes caught his, and the look in them stole my breath away. He was looking at me like I was the next meal he was going to devour, and I didn’t hate it. I didn’t hate it at all. I wanted it. That simple truth was absolutely undeniable. I wanted this man, I wanted him to take me, possess me, order me around. Love me. I wanted it all, and I wanted it with him. Crazy or not, rational or not, it was the truth.
“Here, you take it black, don’t you?” he said, suddenly behind me, and passing me an espresso cup.
“How do you know?”
“Lucky guess,” he said. I sipped the coffee.
“Really? You seem to have a lot of lucky guesses around me,” I muttered. He had moved close to me when he’d handed me the drink, and hadn’t moved away. He sipped his own coffee and watched me.
“You’ve got me. I’ve been stalking you for months,” he teased. My eyes leapt to his for even the slightest sign of honesty.
“Hilarious,” I sighed, knocking back the rest of my coffee. It was caramelly in tone and slid down smoothly.
“You know, I’ve yet to be accused of being funny by anyone other than you.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’m not known to joke around much, Amy, so maybe you should believe me more often,” he said, taking my empty cup from my hand and setting it down on the shelf just past my head with his own. The movement sent him closer, and I had to step back to avoid bumping into him. That forced step brought my back against the bookcases, and he didn’t move away. I was once again caged against him. My heart started to pound in my chest, and images of his hot mouth between my legs, only an hour ago, surged into my mind. God help me, I might literally go up in flames around this man.
“So far you’ve hinted at being a sociopath and a stalker, so if I was to take you seriously, I should probably leave,” I muttered, bringing my hands up to his chest. His shirt was crisp beneath my fingers, and I slid them over his pecs, enjoying the feeling of his rounded muscles beneath.
“The door is there, and I won’t stop you, if that’s what you really want. If not, and you decide to stay, I don’t want secrets between us. I want you, that much is plain. I’ve wanted you since we first met, and I am a man who pursues what he wants. I’ll not sugar-coat that about myself.”
“So… you’ve had me now, right?”
“Amy, I’ve only just begun the things that I want to do to you. I’m not the kind of man who fucks around. I’m the kind of man who becomes obsessed and commits. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you, and I never will again.”
“Obsessed?”
