Stripping Dorian of his dignity—or just making him insane—was a bit of an obsession when I wrote my first few novels. But I had to explore reasons why he hated me. It never made sense to me.
“Anyway,” I say, dragging my eyes back to my computer screen. “You have twenty-five students signed up, and so far, their response to the news that you’re taking over as the headlining teacher has been overwhelmingly positive.”
“Who will team with me?” He pushes up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing lean, corded forearms. How much does a man have to write to get that kind of definition? He clearly has other hobbies as well.
“Dr. Potts, a retired teacher from Vanderbilt, will be in next week to go over dialogue dos and don’ts, and Kerry Phelps, a professor at Tennessee State, is coming in the following week to teach the differences between character-driven and plot-driven stories and how to utilize them. You have the final week all to yourself.”
“Why don’t you take that one with me?”
“And teach what?”
His brown eyes pin me in place. “You were always a killer descriptor. You should teach layering in scenes or how to leave hints so they don’t get buried.”
Despite the simple way he delivers this line, my body hums from the praise. Although…if I could properly leave hints, he wouldn’t have thought Jackson showing up at the gas station was so contrived.
OKAY, Piper, let it go. One negative criticism doesn’t need to spoil the entire day.
“I’ll be present at each class, but I don’t teach. I don’t have the accolades, so why would anyone listen to me?” I ask.
“Because you’d give good advice.”
He’s so confident in me, I want to bask in it. But school was eons ago. For all he knows, I’ve forgotten everything, and now I’m terrible. This is a lot of misplaced faith.
On the other hand, I know he’s only gotten better and better every year.
I choose not to lie to him and not to push it, either. “Do you need help coming up with a curriculum for tomorrow night? The plan was to dive into a general story-arc explanation first. Explain the point of character wounds and what drives them.”
“The hero’s journey?”
“Sure. Whatever you’d like to do.”
“Okay, great. I’ll come up with something.” He watches me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. What is he thinking? I’d give so much to know right now.
“Class begins at nine and runs for one hour.”
“Great.” He still hasn’t taken his eyes off me. The tension between us is so tight, you could flick it like a string and it wouldn’t bounce. “So what have you been up to since school? Have you been in Nashville all this time?”
“For the most part, yeah. I lived with my parents for a few years to save money to start this place, and then the rest is history. We opened three years ago, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“It looks good on you,” he says.
“The store?”
“Ownership. Being a boss. You’re good at it.”
My neck heats, and I have to look down. “Thanks. Do you still talk to anyone?”
“Charlie,” he says. “And Elena. We get together occasionally.”
What? “I see both of them, too. That’s funny…they never mention—” I don’t finish that. Why would they mention seeing Dorian? Everyone knew he couldn’t stand me. But Elena is one of my closest friends. The fact that she’s seen Dorian, that she knows he lives locally and never mentioned it? That stings.
Speaking of…whyishe being so nice now? Has maturity helped him deal with his adversaries better? I want to ask, but I’m also afraid of jeopardizing his place as my star teacher, so I tuck that curiosity away where it can’t peck at me too much. My weird little crush clearly hasn’t gone anywhere, so it’ll be a good thing once I’ve seen the back of him.
I stand. “Well, I should get back.”
“Oh.” He looks surprised, and maybe even a little hurt. That’s something to think about later. Or not at all. He stands, tugging his jeans at the knees. Pants shouldn’t fit a man so flawlessly. They have no right to drape this way. He must be a swimmer or playa lotof pickleball. “Sure, yeah.”
I close out my computer and push in my chair, following him from the room. Except he doesn’t leave. He stops at the door, which makes me nearly run into him. I get a strong whiff of what I’m beginning to suspect is his hair product—slightly spicy but incredibly manly, and definitely the same thing he used back in college.
