The door slams behind him, jarring more tears from my eyes.
I get it. I do. Their resentment of me runs two-hundred-thousand-dollars deep.
As I flick off the lights and return to the couch, Schubert joins me, purring and nuzzling against my chest in the dark. Sometimes I think Schubert’s love is an extension of Dad’s. Dad picked him out, surprised me with him, and died the next day. It’s like he knew what was coming and wanted to make sure part of his heart was left behind, to console me when I need him most.
But I don’t think Dad loved me more than them. He was just trying to do a good thing with my education. I can imagine, though, how they must feel. I can hardly breathe after Mr. Marceaux’s rejection, and that wasn’t even close to love.
At least, Marceaux didn’t take away the private lessons. I should be glad for that, but the last five weeks have only made me angry. Fuming fucking mad. His strictly professional interactions and cold demeanor are daily reminders that I’m not good enough.
Not good enough for Leopold.
Not good enough to risk being with me.
Despite my misgivings about Ivory’s future, I focus on my own. I spend the remainder of the weekend putting out feelers for teaching jobs. By Sunday night, I’ve applied for a few mid-year openings out of state.
I loathe the idea of leaving Louisiana without resolving one last thing with Joanne. But I have options, and maybe with a little self-control, I’ll keep things professional with Ivory until those options pan out.
But it doesn’t lessen the intoxicated feeling in my body. As I cross the campus parking lot the next morning, my anticipation in seeing her has me whistling “Patience” with Axl Rose’s contagious buoyancy. My blood pumps hotter and my muscles flex tighter with each step toward Crescent Hall.
The mind works in funny ways, making me rationalize all kinds of shit as I enter the building. If I’m leaving, it won’t hurt to touch her today. Just once. Another taste of her lips. That’s all. Man, why am I considering quitting? I can’t abandon her. How will I fucking breathe? This is bullshit.
My strides turn away from my classroom and veer toward Campus Center for reasons that can only be described as obsessive.
I run a hand through my hair and slow my gait. I don’t remember feeling this wild and out-of-control with Joanne. But I didn’t pursue her, either. Not in the beginning and certainly not after. I’ve never chased a woman. Never had to. That alone is enough to make me question why I’m craning my neck and scanning the crowd of students, hoping to catch a glimpse of long dark hair. Ivory Westbrook is fucking with my head.
A few halls later, I spot her leaning against a wall of lockers and smiling at Ellie Lai.
The sight of her sends a shot of warm satisfaction through me, locking my legs and paralyzing me twenty feet away. My infatuation might be ridiculous, but it’s no less real. I’m completely and thoroughly hypnotized by her.
She stands out among everyone in this school. Not because of the drab style of her white button-up and tattered black skirt, but because she shines above her financial limitations, radiating the kind of beauty that can’t be bought. Everything looks lackluster in comparison to the glow of her skin, the brightness of her eyes, and the potency of her aura. I’m so fucking drawn to her I can’t see straight.
The flow of students streams between us, but it only takes a moment for her to sense me. When her eyes find mine, her smile slips. Her lips separate, and her hand forms a fist at her side.
She resents me for putting space between us, but she understands why I did it. Even so, we both know that space hasn’t accomplished anything. With every passing day, it becomes tauter, thinner, straining to seal up and fall away. Like now.
Her gaze holds mine, piercing me with a vulnerable plea. Take the risk. Find a way. I need you. Maybe those are just reflections of my own thoughts, but I want to grab her wrist, pry her fingers open, and wrap them around mine, while promising to give her anything she wants.
Ellie pokes Ivory’s arm, and just like that, Ivory looks away, the trance broken.
I blink and suck in a frustrated breath as Ellie’s attention bounces between Ivory and me. Fuck.
Relaxing my shoulders, I give them a small chin nod and turn down the hall. Thank Christ, none of the other students seem to have noticed my frozen fixation. I swipe a hand down my face and fight the burning urge to glance back at Ivory.
By the time I reach Crescent Hall, my mind is a mess of disjointed arguments. I can give us both what we want. But can I keep her safe from the fallout? Is she safe now? Without her at my side every damn second, I have no idea who or what is threatening her. I fucking hate it.