I don’t turn and watch her leave, even though it’s killing me to think I won’t see her for three months. Just wait until August. You’ll really be dying then, I tell myself. You’ll see her every single day and you still won’t be able to touch her.
Which is true, and also entirely my own fault. Note to self, next time the woman who haunts your dreams and turns your waking brain to mush asks you to be her academic advisor for graduate studies, maybe say ‘no’.
The door behind me opens, and I turn, expecting to see Corinne. Instead, I spot the silver-haired department head holding a manilla envelope. Well, that’s ominous. “Hello, Dr. Sutherland. I see you’ve made it all the way down to Mordor.” Am I still salty that the geology labs got moved to the basement? You fuckin’ bet I am.
“You’re an absolute laugh riot, Wesley.” His voice is flat as a board and just about as interesting as his personality. I know he hates us using the Tolkien reference, which is exactly why we all do it. “But I made the trek to bring you good news in person.”
My ears perk up at that. “Oh, yeah?”
“You got the grant and the owners of the resort gave you unlimited access to the grounds. They even threw in a month-long stay, so long as you pay for your own food and drinks and share your findings with them before publishing.”
“Any other caveats?” I ask, squinting at him. That seems almost too good to be true.
“No.” Sutherland shakes his head. “Surprisingly not. I’ll admit that when you submitted the proposal, I didn’t think you’d ever get approval. But the owners are curious. I suspect your proposed attempt to predict the lake levels might have something to do with it. That seems like information they’d like to have.”
Well, duh. I keep that comment to myself. Mountain Ridge Resort sits in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia on a unique lake. The water levels rise and fall, sometimes drastically, completely independent of local rainfall. I have theories on why, but I can’t confirm anything until I have access to the private property.
Sutherland hands me the manilla envelope. “You’ve got a per diem from the university. All pertinent information is contained in that letter. Check out equipment properly, or I’ll have your head.”
I seriously can’t tell where this guy lands. Is he trying to be funny or threatening? No one knows. “I will follow procedures,” I promise, trying not to smile. Considering I overhauled and re-wrote the department procedures two years ago, I think I can manage that.
“Great. Let me know if you have questions or need anything.” Sutherland turns on his heel, but pauses. “Did you know Corinne is working a summer job instead of the summer intern program?” Corinne. Something about the way he says her name makes me bristle. I shake my head. “Well, you’re her academic advisor. I’d think you would have at least tried to get her to join the program.”
Ha. The program. The intern program is unpaid and, frankly, shit experience. Free labor under a fancy name. I shrug at my department head, trying to keep the disdain from my expression. I don’t care if she’s waiting tables or pulling cappuccinos. It’s a better use of her time than his program. Now, if I could have taken her to Virginia with me… that would have been great on her resume. It just might have killed me, though.
“Try harder next time,” he says, walking out of the room like his joints have all been fused together. Thank fuck and good riddance. I bend the barbs back and pull the contents out of the envelope, reading greedily.
This is exactly what I need to distract myself. I’ll be five or six hours from D.C., which means five or six hours from Corinne Palomer. No chance of bumping into her at the coffee shop or, god forbid, crossing paths in the university gym. Again. Because I don’t think my aortic valves can take a repeat of last time.
This little bead of sweat dripped down her neck as we made small talk. It ran down her chest, following an invisible, but brain-meltingly lickable path into her sports bra. Fuck. Just thinking about it… No. This is great. An entire month outside to clear my head. An entire month with no distractions. Just lots of hydrology research.
2
CORINNE
Ishut the lab door behind me, pausing and shaking my hand; trying to forget the way Dr. Napier’s shoulder felt underneath his shirt. I shouldn’t have touched him like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s such a childish thing, this crush on my academic advisor, but I don’t even know how to ignore it anymore.
From the first day—no—the moment he called my name for attendance, I was a lost cause. Palomer, Corinne. Literally the first and only time I’ve ever heard him speak my first name. Our eyes met, I fell hopelessly, madly in love with him, and then he moved on, marking Parker, Janet as absent.
Even now, years later, I can’t resist the way he makes me feel. I’m nowhere near the naïve and wildly sheltered freshman of lectures past. I graduated Summa Cum Laude, and even though the title still makes me giggle on the inside, I’d like to think I’ve evolved.
For instance, I don’t fantasize about Dr. Napier kissing me sweetly in the rain anymore. Nope. Those fantasies grew up right alongside me. Now when I’m all alone with my battery-operated boy toy, I imagine him bending me over a lab table, holding my hands behind my back, and whispering filthy things in my ear.
There were moments over the last four years where I imagined him looking at me the way I look at him. Moments where his hazel eyes seemed to spark with admiration. Moments where I would have sworn I could feel his eyes on me, like invisible flames licking at my skin.
I’m not crazy. I know it was all in my head. I know he was never looking at me. Not unless I addressed him first, and even then, his eyes seemed to slide away, like I was too boring to hold his interest. It actually surprised me when the department placed me as his lab assistant this year. I thought for sure he’d want someone else. And while it’s true, he quietly tolerated my presence, it was also obvious he had no interest in having me around unless he needs his samples labeled.
I turn to head down the hall, but the second I do, I crash into a suit. I flinch as I look up into the face of Doctor Sutherland. His wrinkly, lecherous face. He raises an eyebrow and stares down my shirt. Dirty old fucker. I side step, trying to excuse myself.
“A minute, Corinne.” It’s not a question or a favor. It’s a demand. One that makes me shudder. “I saw you didn’t apply for the summer intern program. I could still sneak you in. It would be a great experience to put on that little resume of yours.”
I swallow the bile that threatens to erupt from the back of my throat. “I appreciate that, Dr. Sutherland,” I say, trying to keep my voice as flat as possible. “But I have a summer job. Gotta save up for those little grad school bills of yours.”
He steps toward me, invading my personal space in a way that feels distinctly threatening. I take a generous step backward, keeping my eyes on him. I swear to christ, if this geezer puts one finger on me, I’ll make him the world’s oldest eunuch. Or, more likely, I’ll scream bloody murder and make sure Dr. Napier and every other professor, TA, and student worker in Mordor knows what a scumbag he is.
He doesn’t react to the distance I put between us. “If money is an issue, you should have said something. I could easily find you a scholarship. Surely, my most promising geology grad deserves some support from her school.”
His? Barf. It’s not like he actually does anything around here. I’ve seen all the work he piles onto the professors. The work he absolutely should do himself. Dick.