Break Your Heart (13 page)

Nick didn’t look at my naked body, right there in front of him, and for some reason that moved me more than I could say. Instead, he looked at me with such emotion on his face that I couldn’t breathe.

He cupped my cheeks and drew my mouth to his. Gave me a soft kiss that curled my toes. “Are you hungry? Someone distracted me before we got a chance to eat.” I felt the smile against my lips.

I nodded. My chest and head felt lighter than they had in ages. Everything was clear, like the blinders had fallen from my eyes. This man was unlocking feelings in me I’d never had before. It was scary, overwhelming, thrilling.

Yes, there was a danger to his job, of course. There was also a danger to my heart, because I could see myself falling headfirst into love with him so very easily.

And the most dangerous part of all was I wanted it, even knowing all these risks. I wanted to scorch in the flames right beside him.

Nick rose from the bed and dug through his dresser drawer, tossing a soft T-shirt my way. He threw on a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and it was hard to not stare at his exposed torso. God, it was ridiculous how attractive the man was.

“Here, so you don’t get that delectable body of yours cold.” He winked. “Now let’s get you downstairs and fed.”

I followed him downstairs with a face-splitting smile and a bounce in my step.

T
he next couple of weeks went by in a mad rush. When I wasn’t in class or studying, I was meeting Nick everywhere I could—off campus, of course. We had impromptu coffee dates, saw an indie band concert, even had dinner at his house a few times. I never stayed the night or hinted like I wanted to, not wishing to push things, but my evenings out with him got longer and longer.

It was so hard to leave him each night when all I wanted to do was curl up in the warmth of his arms.

True to his word, Nick kept things above board when we were on campus. He didn’t treat me any differently in class, and I found myself growing accustomed to this . . . thing going on between us. Though we did leave each other small coded notes on our papers back and forth. They were the highlight of my day.

Late last week, Nick and I were talking outside the math building when I saw my dad walking by with a contractor, both of them in bright yellow hard hats, Styrofoam cups clenched in hands. My heart stopped beating in my chest, and I stuttered and struggled to keep my cool. He and I weren’t technically doing anything wrong right then; there was nothing unusual about students and professors having conversations on campus. But I was certain Dad would read the truth on my face. He knew me better than almost anyone and would be able to see the emotions in my eyes clear as day.

Thankfully, he’d kept walking past, not seeing me. Crisis averted, barely. But the uneasiness had lingered with me for hours afterward. Since then, I was careful about my communication with Nick outside the math building.

I’d briefly mentioned to Nick that my parents were working on a project here, but I wasn’t quite ready for them to meet. Not yet, not when we were still so new . . . and had to keep things on the down low.

This was quite possibly the biggest secret I’d ever kept. And while I savored my stolen moments with Nick, I wanted more. I grew impatient for the semester to end so I didn’t have to sneak around any longer. Every day I was with him, it was more and more difficult to not vocalize that. But I’d agreed to these terms and I couldn’t complain about it now.

I’d known from the start what I was getting into.

After finishing psychology of stress one afternoon, I got to the apartment complex and whipped my door open. “Honey, I’m home!” I’d seen Casey’s car in the parking lot, so I figured she was here.

“Hey! How was your day?” Casey waved at me from the table. Seated beside her was a short, pretty brunette; they had textbooks spilled all over the table’s surface. The girl offered me a polite smile and head nod.

“It was fabulous,” I declared as I tossed my backpack on the couch. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge. Took a deep swig and then sighed in pleasure.

When I turned around, Casey was eyeing me with a brow raised. “Hm. Really? Even psychology? You seem awfully chipper for coming out of a class you loathe.”

I shrugged. “It’s getting better.” Okay, I was actually riding high from having gotten a sweet text from Nick earlier, but she didn’t need to know that.

That keen, knowing look was still in Casey’s eyes, but she said, “Megan, this is Amanda. We had philosophy together last semester and bonded over our misery. Amanda, this is my roommate, Megan.”

I stuck out a hand and shook hers. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too. We’re studying for midterms—you’re welcome to join us.” She waved a hand at the chair across from them.

I grimaced. “I can’t believe it’s that time of the semester.” The year had been flying by. It was already early March, and midterm week was next week.

“Graduation is just around the corner for you two, isn’t it?” Amanda asked. “I thought Casey mentioned you’re done at the end of this semester too . . . is that right?”

I took the chair across from them and set my soda on the table. “It is. I can hardly wrap my head around it.”

In between everything else, I’d been getting my graduation details sorted out. Cap and gown orders. Announcements. Exchanging texts with my dad about the cookout he wanted to host in celebration.

Would Nick be able to come? I wanted to invite him. But some of my friends on campus would be there. Maybe I could invite a few of my other profs too, just as a courtesy. So it wouldn’t look like I singled him out. Then I could suss out what my parents thought of him before telling them we were dating.

“That’s awesome. You must be thrilled.” She grinned, and her eyes sparkled with warmth. I could see why Casey liked hanging out with her. She was bubbly but not obnoxiously so. “Okay, I’d better get back to this. I can’t bomb this class or my folks will kill me.” Amanda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and ducked her head to study more.

Casey’s eyes met mine. She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. In that moment, I wanted to confess to her. Tell her all the stuff that had been weighing on my mind, in my heart.

I was falling hard for my professor, and there was no way to stop it. Somehow, with his wide smiles and big brain and skilled hands, he’d wormed his way into my life.

Thankfully Amanda was there, or else I’d have probably spilled the beans.

I stood and gave them both a shaky smile. “I think I might take a nap,” I said as I turned. I didn’t want Casey to read the secret on my face. With her unassuming and gentle ways, she’d get me talking before I realized what was happening.

I retreated into my room and flopped on my bed. Stared at the ceiling, eyed the clusters of photos on my walls. Lots of party pics, me posing with other girls, with countless goofy guys. The parties were fun to go to, sure.

But those experiences didn’t stick with me the way the last couple of weeks with Nick had. I’d turned down a few party invites from Nadia and a couple of other casual friends to spend more time with him. Patrick had texted me once or twice, messages filled with cringe-worthy errors, but had apparently gotten the gist of my lack of interest and left me alone. I certainly wasn’t missing out; I’d deleted him from my phone.

Nick and I had spent hours just talking about everything. Discussing our thoughts on politics and which way we leaned, and why. What we thought about the turmoil in the Middle East. The rampant commercialism of holidays.

But not all of our conversations were heavy. The other day, we spent a full fifteen minutes arguing mayonnaise versus Miracle Whip. There was also some debate over the best contemporary film directors. Not to mention our epic battle about the best old-school female hip-hop artists.

He stimulated me. I found myself reading more news, listening to NPR, trying to find snippets of topics we could discuss.

My phone buzzed. I dug it out.

A text from Nick. That familiar buzz started low in my belly and spread outward.

I’m in my apartment, lying in bed ;-)
I texted back.

Any chance I can get an advance copy of ours?
I laughed to myself, then added
, That was totally a joke, btw. Don’t kick me. I’ll earn my good grades in your class the honest way.
I took a picture of myself lying in bed, then sent it to him.

A few minutes later, I got a picture back of him. Nick was styled to perfection, his jaw cleanly shaved, the smooth front of his dress shirt pressed. I kinda wanted to muss him up, see him the way only
I
got to—slightly scruffy with a bit of bedhead. Eyes hooded and heated, locked on mine.

Send me something a little more risqué,
I teased him. What would he do in response? We hadn’t progressed to sending naughty texts or anything, so I was kinda pushing the envelope here.

A moment later, my phone buzzed. He’d sent me the exact same shot, except this time the button at his collar was undone.

I laughed. Leave it to him to make a joke. Still, it was a good-looking picture. I saved both of them in my photo folder.

Good thing you stopped at one button, Mr. Edgy. Two, and I might have fainted,
I typed back.

One of my favorite dishes. He remembered.
<3 I’ll be there.

I rested my phone on my belly with a happy sigh. Nick was invading every piece of my life. Even when we weren’t together, I was thinking about him. Just another two months, I told myself. Two months from now, we wouldn’t have to be secret.

It was all I could do to wait.

 

“So, I want you to do a little self-exploration for your homework this weekend,” Professor Morrow, my psychology of stress prof, said. He leaned against the front wall and crossed his skinny arms in front of him.

I heard a few smothered groans around me and bit my lower lip, suppressing an eye roll. We all knew what was coming. Morrow loved to assign us introspective reflections. He said it was his way of making the material “practical” for us. I understood it to a degree, but it was kinda awkward, knowing this man was probably drinking a glass of wine and reading the divulgences of my personal life.

I knew from listening to Nick gripe about a few papers he’d gotten in that they
did
talk about us—to their friends, significant others, even fellow professors. Dating a teacher had made me more aware than ever of that.

Morrow shoved away from the wall and paced in front of the room. “We’ve been discussing stressors and how they impact us both physically and psychologically. For this assignment, I want you to examine your own life. Look at the various types of stressors you’re encountering right now—don’t forget good stress, by the way—and write which of the categories they fall under. Then pick a coping mechanism and apply it to one of your stressors over the next few days. Tell me how it impacted your level of stress, if it even did.” He scanned the room with the narrowed eyes of a well-seasoned educator. “Make this thoughtful and resonant, folks. Dig deep. But I don’t want to hear about anything illegal or immoral. I’d rather not have to call the police on my students. It’s been a good semester so far, so let’s keep that up.”

There were a few chuckles.

“And don’t just give me a few sentences of halfhearted crap either,” he continued in his usual droll voice. While I wasn’t a fan of this class, at least our prof was entertaining in a weird, dry way. “I can tell when you guys get lazy. Okay, have a good weekend, and I’ll see you next week for your midterm. Go forth and de-stress.”

I got my stuff together and left the room, our homework assignment on my mind. Which stressor should I focus on? Midterms next week? Graduation in two months? I mean, it wasn’t like I could write that I was seeing Nick. I could only imagine what the response to
that
would be.

Maybe I could drop by the work trailer and see my folks. Since I’d been so busy lately, I hadn’t seen much of them—plus I was in full-blown avoidance mode due to dating Nick and not wanting them to know—but Dad’s occasional texts told me the project was progressing well.

The sun shone brightly outside when I stepped out of the building, and the weather was pretty warm for this time of year, pushing fifty degrees. I heard water dripping from the trees as ice and snow melted. The ground was slushy and a gross brown, so I stuck to the sidewalks.

The trailer door was closed. I knocked—no answer.

Mom’s car was right there, parked in front of the trailer. Maybe she was walking around the site. I knew I wasn’t allowed to visit the site without a hard hat though. It was a hard and fast rule.

If the trailer was unlocked, I could snag one from there. She always kept a couple extra tucked away for visitors or anyone she spotted working without one. And it would be cool to see the progress being made anyway.

I tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked, so I opened the door to a darkened trailer. When I flicked the switch, I saw the feet of a form lying on the end of the couch in the back. Was someone taking a nap? Hm, looked like my mom’s shoes on the floor.

I tiptoed over with a grin. Touched her shoulder. “Ooh, someone’s gonna be in trouble for napping on the job.”

I didn’t get a response.

I shook her shoulder harder. “Mom? Hey, wake up.”

There was a groggy groan, and then she tilted her head to look at me. Her eyes were glassy, and she gave a dopey smile. She looked a bit feverish. “Megan. Hey.”

“Are you sick? Do I need to take you to a doctor?”

She sat up and her head flopped a bit as she shifted to a sitting position on the couch. With a sloppy wave of her hand she said, “No, no, I’m fine.” Her words were slurred as if she’d been drinking, but she didn’t smell like booze.

I frowned. “Mom, did you take something? Is your back hurting?”

Her eyes closed and she leaned back to rest on the couch. Her head draped over the top. “I’m feelin’ good right now,” she said, then gave a slight giggle. “No pain, baby. No pain.”

Anger, quick and sharp, rushed through me, threaded with fear. I stepped away from her and looked under the desk for her purse. A quick peek inside confirmed that bottle of pills I’d seen before was still there. Only it was empty now.

I held it up in front of her. “How much did you take?”

She opened her eyes, squinted. Dropped her head back. “I dunno. I’m fine. Go away.”

“I’m not going away. You can’t be like this at work, Mom. This is dangerous. What if something were to happen? What if you got caught?” Panic made my chest tighten.

I couldn’t leave her here like this.

I dropped the empty pill bottle in her purse and fished out her car keys. “We’re leaving.” Should I take her to the ER? She didn’t seem like she was overdosing. Just flying high as a kite.