Professor Levine settles me down in his kitchen while he busies himself at the stove. I have no idea how he knows what to cook, but a few minutes later he slides a plate of runny eggs and toast in front of me. I didn’t realize until the food was in front of me how hungry I actually am, and he somehow produces a glass of orange juice before I even have to ask.
When I look up, he’s standing with his hip leaned against his kitchen counter, watching me with an oddly soft expression while he sips his coffee.
“Thanks,” I manage to murmur around a mouthful of toast, feeling braver now that I’m swallowed up in the sea of his hoodie. “You’re kind of really good at taking care of people for someone who half the students are afraid of.”
He laughs before I have a chance to be worried that I offended him, and his fingers are warm when they gently run through my hair as he walks past me to the living room. “I guess there are certain students I make exceptions for.”
For someone who insisted we only keep it physical, Professor Levine spent the entire time we were eating gently prying little facts about my past out of me. He knows that I’ve never seen a play live, and that I always wanted a pet lizard. And I don’t think he realized he was telling me about his favorite stage plays until I leaned in with my chin propped on my hand and let out a softsigh, admiring the way he got so animated and passionate about it.
He turned the conversation to sex and the way I’d passed out after it, and I secretly reveled in the way he preened over that too.
I finish breakfast and grab my shirt. True to my word, I quietly tuck it into the pocket of his oversized hoodie and smile innocently when he walks me to the door. I notice he doesn’t say anything about it. He does walk me out to my car, looking it over.
“What was wrong with it?”
“Something about a belt slipping.” I shrug. “I don’t know much about cars. I just dipped into my savings and fixed it. Tina’s worth the trouble.” I pat the door, blushing a little at the name, at the memory of the last time he saw me near the car…
When I lean back, my hands behind me clutching the handle, I’m not sure what to say. I want to ask him what’s actually going on, what this is… but I’m too nervous. The problem with never having something like this before is that I know I’m going to get attached too easily. Something tells me a professor—someone who would be risking his career and who probably has more experience than years I’ve been alive—wouldn’t want to get saddled with a clingy mess like me.
That’s fine. I can keep my feelings to myself as long as it means I can have this for a little longer, if that’s what he wants. I turn my head up, and he only glances around for a second before he leans in, stealing a quick kiss from me.
“Drive safe on your way back.” Even though he says it, he doesn’t move out of my space. He has me caged in against the car door, and I’m half tempted to ask him if maybe we could go back inside again because I’m ready for thatmorenow… but he leans around me and opens my car door.
Yeah. I can’t ask him if he’s changed his mind, because I’m afraid to know the answer. That doesn’t stop me from leaning upand pressing my lips to his one more time before I jump into my car.
“I’ll see you in class?” It’s the only bit of vulnerability I’m going to show—the only bit of assurance I’ll ask for right now.
He looks me over, a little lost thing swimming in his enormous hoodie… and then he nods. “Wouldn’t miss it, little lamb.”
I grin, worried that everything I’m already feeling is showing in my expression… so I do the only thing I can do. I pull up the hood of my stolen clothes and roll up my window, knowing I’m already in too deep and realizing that maybe drowning will be worth it if it means I get to fill my heart with the blue depths of the ocean in his eyes.
Chapter
Eighteen
MADDOX
“No,”I say, fighting not to lose my patience. It seems like the more I talk and give instruction, the harder these students in my intro to theater class rebel against it. Most are here for an elective to fill their course load, but I refuse to allow them to slack off because they think they can.
Any student who has taken my class in the past needs to pass along to incoming students that I don’t play that bullshit when they step into my theater. I own this room and they’ll fall in line how they’re supposed to or they’ll get failed.
Sighing in frustration, I ask the scrawny man in front of me, “Did I say shout or use your diaphragm?”
He genuinely looks confused. “That’s the same thing.”
Stepping over to him, I shout, “Are you sure?” He jumps as if I struck him. Then, using my diaphragm, I repeat the same question. He shakes his head. “Exactly. Using your diaphragm projects your voice but protects your vocal cords. If an actor shouted their lines after doing a play night after night, their voices would be shot in no time. Your voice comes from here.” I place my hand on my upper belly. “Not there.” I touch my throat. “Again.”
He swallows roughly, then nods before repeating the line, this time the way I told him to. “Yes,” I practically hiss, my patience wearing thin. “Just like that. You.” I point to a freshman who looks like she’s about to piss her pants. “Same line, same manner.” She gets it quickly, actually listening to what the fuck I said instead of doing her own thing.
I break the class into groups so they can work on their lines together, then turn around toward the stage where Luca is. He’s smiling softly as he watches me, eyes twinkling in a knowing way.
It’s been two weeks since he came over to my place and I can’t wait until we can do it again. But he’s in his senior year and getting ready for grad school. He has to work hard to get into the program he wants and can’t just spend all his nights with me.
As much as I tell myself I don’twanthim to spend all his nights with me, I smile when I still smell faint traces of him on my sheets.
It’s fucking pathetic that I haven’t changed them since that night.
I need to make up my fucking mind. I’m not always so… flighty. After my past, I know my boundaries, know what I want from the men I’m involved with, to protect myself.
