I take a deep breath and steel myself against the warmth that’s already emerging from his body. There’s really no reason for our chairs to be this close. Are they even that close? I refuse to glance anywhere but straight ahead.
“On time is late, Cabot,” I mutter through closed teeth, slightly tilting my head to ensure he hears me. He chuckles in reply.
“Wollstonecraft,” the cheeky red-haired girl remarks a bit pointedly, clearly frustrated by Ben choosing the seat beside me. I clear my throat, attempting to mask my glee at her obviously wrong answer. Even with the extra response time granted by Ben’s late-but-on-time arrival, she still got it wrong.
“I am so glad you said so! But no. Anyone else?” Delphi’s enthusiasm buffers the rejection apparent in her reaction and I can’t help but smile. Knowing the coast is clear for even a partially correct answer, I readjust in my seat.
“The Book of the City of Ladies,” the voice next to me casually states. An unruly heat tingles from my neck to mybreasts, swirling into my abdomen and threatens to travel further before I bite my lip and readjust in my seat. I’m too busy stifling how hot my body finds his knowledge of fifteenth century literature to be pissed that he basically cut me off.
I clear my throat attempting to regain my composure and add, “Christine de Pizan.” Delphi confirms my answer with a warm smile.
“Yes,” she commends, slightly nodding to me, then Ben. “Wollstonecraft was the first to explicitly outline a feminist manifesto of sorts, that is true, but Pizan’s text is really our first recorded piece of literature whose purpose is feminist in nature.”
Feeling Ben glance at me with a conspiratorial smile on his face, I shift my eyes down to my legal pad and begin writing notes, pressing the tip of my pen hard against the lined sheet, hoping the exertion will suppress the heat pulsing from my various erogenous zones. Delphi waxes poetic about the Brontë sisters, Woolf, Austen, Hurston, Morrison, and I struggle to keep up with her stream of consciousness lecture as the heady scent filling the seemingly shrinking gap between Ben and I overwhelms my senses. I still refuse to look, unwilling to break the focused persona I’ve crafted for Delphi.
“Now that I’ve given you the Spark notes history of women’s literature, we can pivot to the content of our course.” Delphi’s smile is smug as her eyes survey the room. I gently place my pen on my legal pad, willing my gaze to remain steady. The scribbling of pens stops so quickly, I know I’m not the only one who feels like they’ve made a fool of themselves by frantically taking note of every syllable flying out of Delphi’s mouth for the last thirty minutes. Ben leans forward in his seat, and I get a glimpse of his firm forearms as he places his elbows on our shared table. He is, naturally, unfazed by Delphi’s pivot, seeing as he hasn’t even taken out a sheet of paper.
“This year, I want to focus on the literature women are writing and readingnow. If you want a class on the classics, feel free to visit the registrar and enroll in a different seminar. But if you’re open to exploring how we might use feminist frameworks to decipher the allure and intention of contemporary women’s fiction… then yeah. This is the class.” One chair screeches against the floor, and the back door slams shut. I see the corner of Ben’s determined jaw as he briefly rests his head on his hand and glances to the back of the room.
“Cool. Better than I thought,” Delphi remarks, mostly to herself. “By the next seminar you’ll need to have read Radway’s ‘Women Read the Romance,’ and come prepared to discuss. Because Idespisefluff discussions where you obviously haven’t spent a minute considering the ideas I asked you to read about—” she pauses, taking a breath before continuing, “you’re going to be going through all of our readings with a partner.” I’m hoping the gulp that just traveled down my throat wasn’t loud enough for Ben to hear. “I hate grouping students, so who you’re next to is fine. Partner up, read the essay, come back next week ready to share your thoughts on popular women’s fiction. Off you go!” And with that, Delphi gathers her notepad and pen, stuffs both into her faded cross body bag, and slides out the front door.
“So I guess we’re gonna be?—”
“Partners,” I let out with a breath as I finally turn to face Ben. His warm eyes dance with amusement and he smiles at me. The smile draws my eye to his cheekbone, highlighted with bluish-purple hues. My fingers itch to reach out and brush it, but I brush them against each other instead. I feel a rush of worry accompanied by a wave of heat. The flush that had been confined to the clothed parts of my body spreads beyond my t-shirt and I feel it begin to creep up my neck. Eager to quell the biological reaction my body has to Ben’s smile, I turn back to my notepad.“Perfect. Just another opportunity for me to get that story out of you.”
“As if you needed an opportunity,” he says, the slight lilt in his voice doing nothing to disguise his increasing amusement.
“Aren’t you a quick study?” I arch my eyebrows, feigning surprise. “I guess you’ll bring something to the table in this partnership, after all.”
“You’ll find I bring a lot more to the table than that.” I catch his jaw tense briefly before he smiles sardonically, casually laying his arm across the back of my chair as if the tight space can't contain his tall frame.
“Ah, he’s presumptuous too,” I coolly drawl, attempting to put a lid on the heat his flirtation is stirring and the warmth of his arm now spreading across my back.
He lets out a soft huff, drawing his top teeth over his pillowy bottom lip. His eyes narrow and his warm gaze heats my face before it moves to the side, catching the time on the clock.
“If you have somewhere to be, please—” I blurt out, eager to end this exchange.
“I…” he hesitates, glancing at the clock again. “I actually registered for a morning lab so, yeah, I do. And if I’m going to walk and get there on time…” He pulls his arm away instantly leaving my body feeling empty with its absence as he moves to stand.
“Of course. Just text me so we can coordinate that partner reading.”
“Partner reading?” That sardonic smile, again. I resent the blush I feel burn on the apples of my cheeks.
“Or not. She won’t know we didn’t read together.” I force my right shoulder to shrug slightly. That chiseled jaw flicks again as he pauses, visibly considering my words.
The smile reemerges, the mocking partially replaced with what looks like delight.
“We can read together, Olivia. That’s fine.” He starts to push his chair back, but stops suddenly, pulling the legal pad from beneath my palm. The pen in my hand disappears as his fingers brush against mine, and he scribbles a series of numbers on the paper. “There. Now you won’t have to ask Will.”
Rolling my eyes, I forcefully push myself out of my seat. I’m embarrassed by his mention of Will, especially as I’m unable to douse the desire that has been lapping against me since he answered that stupid question.
Staring down at him I elongate my spine, shifting back into myself. I soften my features, allowing what I know is a luxuriously playful smile to grace my face. I float my hand to his shoulder, pushing past the hot sensitivity in my fingertips as they graze the soft cotton of his t-shirt.
“And he’s thoughtful,” I say, subtly tilting my head. “Don’t worry. I can handle your brother,” I almost whisper with a mischievous wink. I sweep my legal pad and pen into my tote before I meet Ben’s gaze again. The amusement from moments ago is gone, now replaced by something I simply refuse to investigate.
“Bye, Benjamin,” I cheekily throw over my shoulder as I make my way to the heavy wooden exit. I feel his eyes on me until I reach the bright September morning on the other side of the door. The late summer sun replaces Ben as the source of my full body flush as I survey the quickly crowding campus.He’s definitely going to be late.
Sitting down on the cleanest patch of grass on Mawbry Lawn, I slip my legal pad out of my tote and type Ben’s number into my phone. The bottom quarter of the sheet tears as I tug at thecorner with the elegantly scribbled digits. Crumpling the sliver of paper in my hands, I stuff it to the bottom of my tote and make a mental note to find a trash can later.
