She spread her arms wide. “Do you want a public apology? Cool! Let me know where to shout at the top of my lungs how sorry I am for tricking you. Do you need to fuck me to get over this? Fine! I’ll leave here with you now. Just tell me what price it will take to make you leave me alone, and I will pay it.”
Yom’s heart clenched with an emotion he couldn’t name. Worse, his cock hardened on a wicked pulse of want.
He shoved aside that maddening hunger, certain she wasn’t seriously offering him her body. How many nights had healready wasted replaying the feel of it beneath his hands, cursing himself for desiring her, wishing she hadn’t been a liar? Wishing she hadn’t run.
He gritted his teeth, forcing those memories back into the dark corner of his mind, where they belonged.
This situation was spiraling—dangerous for him.
Tears, he had been expecting. He would have simply laughed if she’d resorted to calling him names like so many Americans did when they got upset.
But he didn’t know what to do with her angry questions or the feelings roiling in his chest.
“Ms. Carrington! Mr. Rustanov! What are you doing out here?” a voice demanded behind him.
He turned to find Professor Quinn now standing outside the seminar’s classroom, regarding them with a furious look.
“I do not know what this drama is all about, but I assure you, the hallway of an institution of education is no place for you to play it out.”
Rustanovs didn’t apologize, but Lydia immediately lowered her head to say, “I’m sorry, Ms. Quinn. This is all my fault.”
“Is it?” She narrowed her eyes at Yom while responding to Lydia. “While I’m a huge believer in personal responsibility, I’m beginning to suspect you’re not the true culprit in this case.”
“No, I am... I’m the one who had no business taking your class in the first place.” Lydia let out an audible breath, then sucked it in again. “And there’s no need to waste any more time wondering if you should give me another chance to prove myself. I’ll dropthe class this week so that someone more deserving can have my spot.”
Instead of staying to fight, she was giving up her spot in the seminar. Because of him? Yom should have been elated. His plan to destroy her senior year was already off to a definitive start.
But the ice around his heart cracked with an ugly, dark feeling.
An uncharacteristic softness entered Professor Quinn’s expression, and she opened her mouth to say something else.
But before she could, Lydia squeaked out, “Okay, thank you. Bye!” then awkwardly pushed past Yom to head for the exit doors.
Leaving Yom alone to do what Rustanovs never did: explain himself to the teacher glaring up at him.
YOM
January 29th
LYDIA CARRINGTON:Hey, Tommy!!! Hope you’re well. Just wanted to say again how much I enjoyed coming out to see you play. I’d love to come over, like we talked about. Whenever you want, just let me know.
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January 31st
LYDIA CARRINGTON:Hey. Me again. It’s been a couple of days, and I know you’re busy. Me, too! This semester is already so crazy with work, right?! I could really use some intimate relief. So let me know when we can hook up!
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February 3
LYDIA CARRINGTON:Happy Weekend! It’s SO COLD, though. Let me know if you want me to warm you up. Anytime. Day or night, I’m down. Just let me know.
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February 6
LYDIA CARRINGTON:Congrats! I saw on the school website that you won again tonight. Want to celebrate at your place? I’m free and totally DTF. Nobody else has to know if you don’t want.
