Tempting - Lucian Alex - Страница 35
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So when I’d seen the flier for a Halloween party at Sigma Chi’s frat, I’d taken a photo and texted to it Nathan.
Me: Whatcha think, Nathan?
Nathan: Looks like fun. Enjoy yourself, Adele.
Narrowing my eyes, I’d furiously typed another message.
Me: I’ll enjoy myself if you go with me. And I’ll make sure you enjoy it too.
Nathan: Tempting. But I’ll pass.
I wasn’t above whining, but I didn’t want to beg him to go with me.
Me: I have this really sweet Alice from Alice in Wonderland costume. Thigh highs, Nathan. Red heels.
His reply had come minutes later.
Nathan: Fuck. We can’t go together because I can’t go at all. It’s too risky.
Me: Not if you wear a mask. I bought one for you—the Mad Hatter. Think about it. We could be together, in the open, without anyone knowing.
Nathan: Do you have some kind of Lewis Carroll fetish?
The very idea had made me laugh.
Me: Come on, old man. Live a little.
Nathan: I’m only ‘old’ because you are so very young.
Me: Please. I’m not above begging. I’ll even get on … my .... knees. To beg, of course.
So much for not begging.
Nathan: On your knees, huh? I’ll think about it.
Me: The party’s Saturday. When will you tell me?
Nathan: You’ll know by Friday.
Me: In class? Why, isn’t that very bold of you, Professor Easton?
Nathan: You’ll know Friday.
That had been after our Wednesday class, and had been our last contact up until class on Friday, the day before Halloween.
Surprisingly, I hadn’t received any texts from Leo all week. We usually went to the frat parties together, but maybe he was realizing that distance was what we both needed. I needed to apologize for kissing him the way I had, but I was so wrapped up in Nathan that I had tunnel vision.
And seeing him in class and acknowledging the distance we needed to keep between us for that entire hour was practically torture. He’d looked at me a few times, his eyes warm, and I’d practically dissolved into a puddle in my chair. But it was always subtle because Nathan wasn’t about to let us get caught. As much as I appreciated that he was looking out for me, sometimes I wanted to see him lose some of that control and not just in private, as he’d done countless times with me.
I slid into my seat and pulled things out of my bag as students milled around me, talking about the party the following night.
“Are you going?” the guy who normally sat next to me in class leaned toward me, muscles bulging under the strain of his tight sleeves. He did nothing for me.
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” Just talking about it put me in a sour mood and so when the door open and Nathan entered the room, it was a welcome reprieve from feeling glum.
His hair looked wet, his jawline peppered with several days’ worth of growth. He wore his glasses and looked a little preoccupied as he pulled things from his bag and placed them on his desk.
Running a hand over his hair, he turned toward the class and began lecturing on imagery, using an example from a student’s essay the previous week.
He displayed the essay on the projector and, using his mouse, he circled ‘Frankenfood.’ “Great use of a portmanteau here, Michael.”
Something about the word was familiar but before I could say anything, another student blurted out, “What’s that?”
“Excellent question.” Nathan lifted his head. “A portmanteau word is formed by combining two words or their sounds into a new word. For example, the word ‘smog’ is formed from ‘fog’ and ‘smoke.’”
Pulling off his glasses, he rose from his chair and moved around the desk. His eyes met mine for an instant before he leaned against the front side of his desk, facing us. “How many of you have used the word ‘chillax’?”
There was a low rumble of laughter before most of us raised our hands. “That’s a great example of a portmanteau—combining ‘chill’ and ‘relax’ into one word.”
“‘Frenemy’ is one, right?”
“Precisely.” Nathan nodded approvingly toward the girl to my left. “They’re often ironic, humorous and the name itself comes from a suitcase that opens in two equal sections.”
Again, Nathan leveled his gaze on me for a moment. It was as if he was trying to communicate something with me, but I wasn’t following.
“Can anyone guess which well-known author first used what he called a portmanteau in his writings?”
The class was silent, waiting. Nathan looked at me once more before speaking.
“Lewis Carroll.”
A smile formed on my lips. But I didn’t let my lips spread, still unsure of what he was telling me with this example.
“In Through the Looking Glass, Humpty Dumpty tells Alice, ‘You see it's like a portmanteau—there are two meanings packed up into one word.’ And, in fact, Carroll popularized the word 'chortle’ as a blend of chuckle and snort.” He tapped his pen on the desk, smiled at me for a second. My heart galloped in my chest. “And now we’re blessed with others like ‘bromance,’ ‘infomercial,’ and ‘jeggings.’”
There was a collective laughter but my heart was thundering, competing with the commotion in the room.
When the class ended and the last student departed, Nathan remained on the other side of the room, still leaning against his desk.
“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
Slowly, a smile lifted the corners of his lips, bringing with it an ache within me. He looked so young, boyish even, when he smiled like that.
Rising from my desk, I walked slowly down the step to the floor, my heels clicking as I approached him. “You seemed very relaxed—dare I say even happy—today. I wonder why?” Biting my lip, I knew my eyes still smiled, happy.
His hands were tucked in his pockets and he shrugged.
“Do I maybe bring a little something out in you? Some crazy kind of recklessness akin to going to fraternity Halloween parties?” I wanted to touch him, but I knew he wouldn’t invite the touch when we could easily be walked in on.
“Maybe you do,” he said softly, thoughtfully. His eyes softened and before I knew what he was doing, he’d reached forward and pulled me to him. “Kiss me before I bend you over this desk.”
A thrill raced up my spine and though it was against my nature, I complied, kissing him softly first before pressing my entire body hard against him. When he gently pushed me away, he looked as tortured as I knew I must have. “Where’s my mask?”
Pulling it from my bag, I handed it to him, my fingers lingering on his. “The mad hatter.”
His eyes lingered on the mask, long fingers running over the grooves and curves. So softly I nearly didn’t hear him, he asked, “Have I gone mad?”
My heart tumbled in my chest, tripping right over the Alice in Wonderland quote.
He looked at me, eyes patient, as if he was seeing right through me.
I brushed the hair from his forehead. “I’m afraid so. You’re entirely bonkers.” My lips spread. “But I’ll tell you a secret.” My hand moved down his face, cupping his jaw, my thumb brushing over his bottom lip. I tilted my head to the side, lowered my voice. “All the best people are.”
I kissed him again—my idea this time—and he didn’t push me away. When I finally pulled back, he stopped me, a hand on my hair. Angling his head down so his eyes were in line with mine, he said, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“This isn’t fun yet,” I leaned in to shout into Adele’s ear. Or at least where I think her ear was, behind the wig. She must have heard me though, because she looked over her shoulder and grinned at me. Her face was the same, of course, but the Alice hair she was wearing was a white-blonde wig, almost Bridget Bardot-like, with curled pig-tails on either side of her head and a thick black headband sitting toward the front of her head, long swooping bangs across her forehead.
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