Chapter Three
Rosie
My friend Ellie stares toward me with a dropped jaw and the widest eyes I’ve ever seen. “Oh, he was definitely hitting on you.”
I shake my head and stare down at the address he scribbled onto the notecard. “No, I really think he’s just messed up with this book thing. It sounds like he’s gotten in his head about it. Maybe it would be good for me to help. I mean, the research assistant thing would look good on my application for grad school.”
“Right. Just leave out the part where you’re sleeping with your professor!” She grins and reaches into the bag of popcorn sitting between us. “If you ask me, I think you should have a little fun. You’re young. You should be accumulating filthy little stories you can relive later when you’re settling in suburbia with a man who won’t stop looking at other women.”
“Damn! That’s depressing!”
She nods slowly and pushes her glasses higher up her nose. “My parents are on the verge of divorce. I’ve heard way too much at this point. I need to move out. Speaking of,” she glances toward the kitchen, making sure my father is out of earshot, “when are you getting out of here? You can’t possibly be planning to take care of your dad forever, right?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I feel bad for him now that my mom is gone, like I have to pick up the slack or something.”
“It’s not your responsibility. He’s a grown man,” Ellie presses as she shoves in another handful of popcorn. “Plus, you have a super-hot philosophy teacher who’s into you. It’s imperative that you lean into that.”
I narrow my brows playfully as I take a sip of Cherry Coke. “Why are you so worried about what I lean into?”
“For one, I’m living vicariously and can’t wait to hear about what a freak he is. Two, I genuinely care about your well-being, and I think you could benefit from blowing off some steam with a big, sexy, super freak.”
Now I’m laughing. “What are you talking about? Professor Wilder is like the softest, kindest, most introspective man I’ve ever met.”
She grins wide as popcorn falls onto her chest. “And I’d bet money he’s also the type who likes wearing clown shoes when he fucks.”
“What?” I laugh harder. “Professor Wilder? The guy that wears the shawl collared sweater?”
“Becauseof the shawl sweater.” She nods dramatically. “You’ve seen that dragon tattoo on his hand. He’s got secrets. Deep, dark, circus-level secrets.”
“Okay, I’m cutting you off. No more Cherry Coke.” I laugh and tuck her can behind a frame on the end table.
“Plus,” she continues, “he’s enormous. He could pick you up, toss you around,” she shivers, “and do all kinds of fun things.”
“Wow. You sound horny.”
“I’m a twenty-five-year-old virgin with no prospects in sight. Yes… I’m horny as hell.”
“What happened to Adam? I thought he wasthe one.” The bready malt of beer wafts into the room as I talk. Dad is probably half a case deep by now. “That was just like… a few months ago.”
“Are you kidding? Adam is the reason my mom is going to end up hiring a bodyguard for me. He turned into a total psycho.”
“Psychotic how? Like… he’s collecting your toenails or like… he’s following you around?”
“Probably both. Last week, I was getting groceries, and he followed me into the grocery store, recited a poem, and it just wouldn’t stop.” She sighs and leans her head back against the couch cushion. “I’m just glad I’m done with school this semester. How much time do you have left?”
“Three years if you count graduate school. I’ll probably stay home until I’m done. Hopefully by then I’ll have Dad in some kind of program.”
Ellie nods, though she doesn’t say anything. I know it’s because she doesn’t think I’m serious. I don’t blame her. I’ve talked about getting him into rehab for years and something always stops me.
That something being Dad.
There are a million reasons he thinks rehab is a terrible idea. The cost, the time commitment, the inevitability that he’ll fail, the fact that no one understands him. The list goes on and on.
“Okay!” She sits up and brushes her auburn hair to the side. “Enough serious stuff. Let’s get back to this kinky professor thing. So… if you go over there tonight, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Nothing. Nothing is the worst that could happen.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
