Chapter Two
Jemma
Cold wind whips around me and I can smell fresh snow on the way. There’s already a good foot on the ground, but January on the East Coast only means Mother Nature is just getting started with her wintery self.
Nightfall hits in a couple of hours and by then the temperatures will dip well below freezing. My already thin diner uniform with its lack of everything that would keep a body warm sucks for the cold. My winter coat helps buffer the sting, but it can only do so much for a tacky one-piece dress. I really need to talk to Krista, the owner of the diner and my boss, about her lack of foresight.
Any other day the coming storm would worry me to no end. What if I couldn’t get to class? What if they closed the library and I didn’t have the books I needed? But today for the first time in forever—I truly mean that—I don’t let the impending gloomy weather tamper the clouds I’m walking on.
It’s been two days since them and I’m still flying high. Who wouldn’t be? I plan on living here as long as I can.
The second my key slipped into the door that night my best friend and roommate, Brooklyn, was there ready for all the dirty details of how the one party I agreed to in my entire college career had gone. Lucky for me she had to bail due to work issues at a large corporation she clerked for. Some missing legal files that meant her job if she failed to find them. Which left me with an hour before midnight and a choice to make.
At first, I felt crapping being ditched. I had every intention of following her out, but before I could, I caught the eye of three men who worked hard to blend in with the mostly younger crowd with their jeans, dark masks and air of nonchalance. But unlike most people my age, I pride myself on noting smaller details other people mostly miss.
Like how Professor Warren Thurston always favors his right leg. Why I don’t know but the man has a notable walk I would recognize anywhere. And his amber-colored eyes are as unique as his ass in a pair of great jeans.
If you ever want to know something ask the quiet girl at the back of the room every time. They know things. Trust me on that fact because I’ve lived back there since kindergarten.
I stared shamelessly. The power of a mask is a wonderful thing.
Now Professor Daemon Preston, his tell is a little more subtle if you weren’t into people watching you would miss it completely. While I spend most of my hours studying computer coding and programming, I like to pride myself on knowing how to read people. Preston likes to stay quiet unless giving a class and rarely laughs at a joke. In the lecture room and school halls this fits in, but at a party of over two-hundred people, the small tell glares like a neon sign. As does his deep, gravelly voice. I’ve masturbated to it enough times I can pick his baritone out over terrible disco music any day of the week.
And Professor Erik Black. Lord, that man’s lips are in my dreams every time I close my eyes. I would recognize that man’s mouth anywhere. I’ve fantasized about him kissing me enough times for sure.
Westmoore University’s three most eligible bachelors stood among their students and not a single one of them knew it. Why probably had a story clipped to it, but the fact still remained.
I’m not sure how a conversion got started, but fifteen minutes after Brooklyn left, a terrible idea and a lot of courage later I was being spirited upstairs.
Of course I lied about all of that when my best friend sprung the Spanish Inquisition on me a little after two that morning. How could I tell her what I had done and with whom?
Guilt still plagues me at not being honest and one day I hope I can tell her about the time her advice to cut loose a little landed me between those three. Maybe.
The delicate memory was mine to keep for now. Sharing seems invasive so I’ll keep my secret for now.
Now that I’m not stupid with lust I have a double shift at Krista’s Kafe set for the evening to help make up for the days I missed.
I sigh. I have zero credit cards, terrible credit at the diner with Krista, and fifteen dollars in my bank account with tuition due in three days since I don’t have the luxury of free tuition normally given to children of faculty members. My father saw to that when he refused to acknowledge me as his.
That’s fine. I don’t want free rides. But the coding job I hoped for fell through and God I hope I don’t have to reach out to my parents. Give them yet another opportunity to rub my choices in my face as what they will perceive as failures.
I pull out my phone and check my email hoping I might have a response after hitting send on a few emails with my resume attached earlier today to a few tech companies looking for coders.
An empty inbox greets me. Which I half expected. But damn.
Working at a diner with shitty uniforms isn’t exactly my dream job. But the money is enough to cover a few bills like rent. Coding some minor programs for startups and several odd jobs has so far covered tuition, but the well is drying up and fast on that front. With only a few months left on my degree I only have to hold out a little longer.
I hit refresh on my inbox again. Still nada.
The whole adulting angle blows. If this continues, I’ll be hitting the unemployment office as an after party as the ink on my degree dries.
Whoo-fucking—hooo.
Since the night crowd at the diner is scarce, I plan on using the time to get my feet back on the ground and find my focus. But first, I need to hit the books. Good times.
Head down, I duck between buildings, dodging the brutal air. School is out for another couple of weeks so for now it’s just me walking the empty campus pathways as I make my way to the library.
Two weeks to savor my forbidden encounter and finally tuck the secret safely away before class starts again. I don’t know how I’ll react seeing them again, but I have a timer set on getting my body under control. So far, it’s not going so great. My collection of toys has gotten a thorough workout, but nothing I do to recreate how they made me feel seems to work.