With the way we’re standing, his back is to the rest of the room, so no one can see that little blush of color but me—it feels like a gift, something special.
There’s a whole world buried somewhere beneath the cool exterior that Professor Levine exudes, and I wonder how many people he actually lets see it.
I wonder if it’s worth the danger of trying to uncover it, or if I should just let it go and be content to live on the edges of whatever he gave me last night.
I’m just as lost now as I was when I went to Mask… and it’s still Professor Levine’s strong hand that reaches out to steady me.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” I can tell he’s asking about more than just me tripping earlier. He’s checking on me after last night, after everything that happened.
I’m not even sure if he knows that he’s showing he cares, and I press my lips together to keep from asking him. It forces me to nod once, twice, and then flick my eyes behind his shoulder.
“You probably need to get back out there before they butcher Hamlet. You don’t want a murder in the auditorium, right?”
Professor Levine’s eyes flick to the students behind him, and when they gloss over the guy who caught me earlier, I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter something about “It already nearly happened” under his breath before he nods.
Still, he shifts his hand, brushing his fingers in a feather-light touch along my elbow—the same elbow where the guy caught me—before he nods.
“We can talk more after class.”
His hand trails along my arm, fingertips brushing mine, as he turns and walks away.
“Okay,” I answer in a small strangled voice, though he’s already back on stage by the time I get the air in my lungs to speak.
The rest of the hour is pretty uneventful. I watch the class do a pretty cheesy job of reading lines, and I watch the way they blossom under Professor Levine’s careful direction. He’s not exactly kind, but he’s passionate about the direction he gives, the way he reads the lines for them so they can see how the inflection of his words change a simple sentence into pure poetry.
I get to watch each and every one of them come to life under his careful instruction, and it hits me in the chest all over again how perfect, how calm and patient he was with me.
I try to feel jealousy drum up in my chest when he puts a hand on a student’s shoulder, but I’m just in awe of the way he’s so passionate about teaching, about helping.
Maybe he’s a hard-ass, but it’s obvious to me at least that he’s only as rough as he is because the stage is something he loves.
It makes me feel a little… swoony.
And I can blame that emotion on the plan that’s forming in my mind. Apparently I’m being possessed by the same Luca who was bold enough to get on his knees last night, because I wait until class is dismissed and half the students are shuffling out of the auditorium before I make my way over to Professor Levine where he’s gathering up their scripts into a neat pile. My eyes focus on that place where he’d crumpled them earlier, and I manage to take a deep breath that propels me forward.
He turns before I even say anything, and I can tell the secondhecan tell that I’m up to something.
“Luca…” Professor Levine’s voice is soft, careful, but it’s too late. Bold Luca is steering the car, and I’m absolutely drunk on the way it makes me feel.
I bite my lower lip and glance up at him through my lashes. This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. But apparently I lose every bit of common sense, every bit of self-control, everything I’ve worked so hard to perfect over the years when I’m near him… because I lean forward and speak in a soft voice.
“You know, I could really use some help studying tonight… if you’re free.”
I know he’s free because I’m the one who wrote out his schedule. And we both know I’m not asking him to help me study, because I don’t take any theater classes and I have absolutely no interest in sports.
He pauses for just a moment, and I watch emotions war over his face. Apprehension, something that looks shockingly close to dread, and then finally swelling to overtake it all is the same heat that nearly made me drown at Mask, that same warmth that made me float last night.
“You know I’m happy to help, Luca.” He steps closer to me, and the proximity nearly makes me whimper. “Text me when you leave here. I’ll give you an address and I want you to meet me there this evening at seven.”
I’m not even sure what I’m asking for. I know I’m already helplessly addicted to the way he made me feel… but I don’t know if I’m begging for more of what happened last night, or if I just want…
Maybe I just want to spend time with him?
I don’t know Maddox Levine at all, and I feel like Ishouldknow a person if I spent half an hour with their cock in my mouth.
I’m just not sure if that’s something he’s actually willing to give.
And like he can read my mind, he catches me gently by the wrist. “Luca?”
