 
### Preservation

### Rachael Wade

Also by Rachael Wade

The Resistance Trilogy:

Amaranth, Book 1

The Gates, Book 2

The Tragedy of Knowledge, Book 3

The Preservation Series:

Love and Relativity

(Featuring Carter and Whitney from the Preservation Series)

Preservation - Preservation, Book 1

Reservation - Preservation, Book 2

Declaration – Preservation, Book 3 (2013)

The Keepers Trilogy:

Repossession, Book 1 (2013)

Restitution, Book 2 (2014)

Restoration, Book 3 (2015)

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright 2012 Rachael Wade

Smashwords Edition

Rabbit Hole Press

Orlando, Florida

www.RachaelWade.com

Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

Editor: Susan Miller
DEDICATION

To Dave, for encouraging me to write this and to see it through, and Pat, for all you've taught me.

This one's for you.

Special thanks to:

Pat, my best friend and greatest treasure. I'm still

standing next to our favorite valley, waiting for you to take the picture—you know the one.

Cathy Givans, for your friendship and support, as well as your input regarding physical, sexual, and mental assault and resources.

All of my book blogger friends for your support,

enthusiasm, and tireless promotion. Thank you!

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

From: Rachael Wade

Subject: Sentimentality

Date: December 1 2011 08:49

To: The Crazy Book Chicks

My little muses, my little darlings, the ones who help keep the flames of my passion for reading alive and scorching—thank you for keeping the Crack Book Shelf Spirit strong.

This includes the regulars:

**Melissa:** My Flo sister. Stop browsing crazy cat pics and GET BACK TO WORK. (shouty capitals for emphasis)

**Maria:** Put down the crack book and give your hubbs a break from "your other husband."

**Tess:** Thank you for your hilarious status updates while reading this in its infant stages and for all of your feedback. And for loving the Brits.

**Chanda:** The Steam Queen—yes, it's steamy.

**Fathima:** The Reviewer Extraordinaire. Thank you for everything.

Laters babies,

xoxo

Rachael Grey–er, Wade,

Little Blip lover, Inner Goddess Advocate, and Dr. Flynn's Most Troubled Case

Ryan's Raven

Prologue

1. Detention

2. Punctuality

3. Curiosity

4. Comfort Zone

5. Invitation

6. An Education

7. Catalyst

8. Discipline

9. Atlas

10. Time Out

11. Recess

12. New Year Resolutions

13. Fire Drill

14. Teacher's Pet

15. Show and Tell

16. Disobedience

17. Dodge Ball

18. Expelled

19. Room with a View

20. Pound of Flesh

Epilogue

Ryan's Little Miss Tardy

Ryan's Gem
Ryan's Raven

_A publishing deal before I even make it to thirty. Unbelievable! Will they sign me on the spot? Make me jump through hoops? Shit, does this tie look all right?_ I raced down my apartment steps and onto the sidewalk, bumping into a couple walking their dog.

"Damn, sorry." I skated around them and started flying toward the Light Rail, messing with my tie. _I can't believe I'm late._ Out of all the times in my life to be late for something, this morning was hands down the worst possible time in the history of...everything. The epitome of stupid. But Jamie looked so sexy, so innocent in her sleep, her arm around me in a vise-like grip. I couldn't stop staring at the ring on her finger, the one I put there. She was mine. She actually agreed to marry me in six months, after she graduated, making me the luckiest son of a bitch on the face of the planet. Trying to move out from underneath her wasn't an option. _I could stare at that girl all day._

The thought made me grin like a damn fool.

But I realized that those five extra minutes when I allowed myself to watch her sleep, like some creepy stalker, royally fucked me over. Because now I was late for the most important meeting of my life. And in my haste to make up for those five minutes, I spilled my coffee on my shirt, on my shoes, and at my feet. "Oh, for the love of..."

Weaving through pedestrian traffic, I moved aside and huddled next to a bank building, peeking through the glass doors to catch a glimpse of the clock on the lobby wall. Glancing at my own watch, I compared the times to make sure it was accurate. "Shit, shit, shit!" Glaring down at my coffee-stained shirt, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then tightened the lid on my empty coffee mug. Adjusting my laptop bag in my right hand, I patted my pants and suit jacket pockets with the other, searching for my phone. _Phone, laptop, keys, wallet...wallet..._

I patted my pockets again. "Wallet!"

Banking a sharp turn, I jolted in the opposite direction, back the way I came, dodging frantically around sidewalk traffic. Retracing my morning step by step, I recalled slipping it into my portfolio case, which I packed to carry the physical paper copies of my work.

I stopped. A woman bumped into me from behind, spitting out an unintelligible curse word when she maneuvered around me.

Moving out of the way again, I bent down and unzipped my laptop bag, nearly choking on my heart as it jumped from my chest to my throat. I didn't pack the case into the laptop bag, either. _Wallet in the case, the case at home...fuck!_ I could do without the portfolio case if I absolutely had to, but my wallet? Not so much. I sprang to my feet and sprinted toward the apartment. _This is not happening._ Mulling over the thought of possibly calling the publishing house to inform them I'd be late, I decided against the idea. Ten minutes wasn't too horrible...mortifying and unprofessional, yes, but it could be a hell of a lot worse.

When I reached the apartment building, I cringed at my luck. The elevator was out of order. "Oh, come _on_!" Taking the stairs two steps at a time, I lunged up to the fourth floor and slipped my key into the lock. _Did I leave it on the coffee table?_ My mind was drawing complete blanks, and the adrenaline rushing through me made it even more difficult to think about anything other than getting in and out of the apartment as fast as possible. I thought I heard Jamie's voice coming from the laundry room. _Good, she's up. She'll know where I put it._ Racing past the kitchen and around the hall, I eyed the counters and tables. No portfolio.

"Hey, Jamie? Babe, do you know where my portfolio case is? I'm in serious trouble—" I heard her giggle, a low hush sound accompanying it. Rounding the corner toward the laundry room, the adrenaline that coursed through me was instantly doused with cold water, then with gasoline, set to fire with a match.

There she was, stark naked on top of the dryer, some prick I didn't recognize standing in between her legs, pants at his feet. No shirt. Greasy, hairy arms encasing her against his chest. And oh, God...right in the middle of...

Bile rose to my throat and my eyes watered.

"Uh..." he stammered, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Oh, Ry," Jamie's voice slid into me, smooth and seductive, then at once, patronizing. "Now, you shouldn't have come barging in like that, should you?" Her expression turned from amused to one full of pity—pity for me, the poor idiot who interrupted her fuck buddy session.

I gripped the doorframe to steady my balance, a sharp kick to the gut almost bringing me to my knees. Working to focus my eyes on the floor, I blinked and concentrated on pulling my gaze from the sight in front of me.

Then it focused on her ring, and the location of her left hand.

"Ahhhh!" I charged toward them and Jamie let out a half-laugh, half-shriek as she slipped off of him and jumped away from the dryer and up against the wall. Barreling straight past her, I tackled the prick, pounding into his jaw with more force than I'd ever known I'd had.

"Ryan! Oh my God, Ryan! Stop it, damn it, stop it!" Her voice pierced my ears, the anger in it only adding fuel to my rage. She was pissed at _me_? My fiancée, pissed at _me_ , in my own home, for beating the shit out of her lover? Was she serious?

The naked ape I was wrestling swung back and I took a hit, but wasn't down for long. I threw the entire weight of my body into a hurricane-force shove, aiming for his chest, my hands gripping his shoulders and knee to his groin. He grunted and stumbled back, hitting the wall between the machines and the closet. I had him cornered. _Perfect._ I tossed off my suit jacket and rolled up my sleeves.

"Who the hell do you think you are, you piece of shit? You picked the wrong girl to fuck around with, man. Do you see that ring on her finger?" I shoved him back again and he took a swing, missing.

"Oh I see it," he snapped, voice gruff. He spit blood on my shirt and wiped his lips, his jaw already swelling up. "She doesn't seem to care. You're obviously not doing it for her, pretty boy." _Oh, no. He didn't._

It was time to pretty up his face.

My fist plowed into his jaw, wiping that grin right off , and then he reversed the game, charging toward me and rushing me out of the laundry room, my back smacking up against the hallway wall. Scraps, kicks, and punches passed between us, my knuckles growing bloodier by the second.

"Jason, _stop_ it! Ryan, let him go, damn it, I don't love you! I don't want to marry you!"

Jamie's voice stopped us both, the ape named Jason staggering backward, turning to face her. She tossed him his shirt and he began buckling up his pants.

"You two can sort this on your own. I'm out of here, Jamie. Call me when you've handled this chump." Jason puffed out his chest and adjusted his shirt, walking straight between us, heading for the door. _Oh, he's a real winner._ It took everything in me not to jump him again, but I had an unfaithful slut of a fiancée to deal with.

"How could you do this?" I let my back sag against the wall.

"You heard me, Ryan. I don't want to marry you." She crossed her arms and sighed, leaning against the opposite wall. Thank God, her clothes were back on.

"And this is how you tell me?" My voice cracked, the pain breaking through the anger, filled with disbelief that my whole world was caving in around me. My meeting with the publisher, my future career, and now this girl. This woman who I'd thought just ten minutes ago was my sun, my compass, my life. Gone in an instant.

"I haven't been happy, Ryan. If you'd paid an ounce of attention to me, maybe you'd have noticed that."

"What—attention? That's what this is about? _Attention_? I thought I gave you a lot of attention just last night."

"The sex is great, Ryan. It's not about that. Sex is the one thing you have going for you, that's no secret."

Oh. My. God. _The one thing?_ I let out a breath of disbelief at what I was hearing.

She continued. "But it's always writing _this_ , writing _that_. You're always lost in your little world of stupid, fake characters, and I just won't take a backseat to your childish imagination anymore. Frankly, it's a bore."

"I almost had a publishing deal this morning, Jamie. That's anything but boring, are you fucking kidding me? What does lover boy do? Something more respectable? What, is he a pool boy? A mechanic? You're throwing our whole relationship away over my career choice?"

"Oh, aren't you completely full of yourself. He's a hockey player, thank you very much. A pro, might I add." She dropped her arms to her sides and started for the kitchen. I followed.

"Oh, yeah, so much more respectable. He hits pucks on ice with wooden sticks. Whoopty-fuckin-do!" I shook my head, watching her grab a plastic bag from the kitchen before making her way to the bedroom. Remaining in the living room, I watched her pace the bedroom. She was completely indifferent. Cold. Remorseless.

"I'm sorry, Ryan, but it's over. Really, you'll be better off. More time for your imaginary friends." She gave a wave of dismissal as she tossed a pair of clothes and a toothbrush into the bag. "I was planning on telling you tonight. Now you know. It's done."

The shock and anger that emanated off of me started to evolve, shifting into sudden desperation and sadness at the realization that this woman was really leaving me. She was really ending this, and in a matter of minutes, it would no longer be Ry and Jamie, Jamie and Ry, the sweethearts from college, the ones who wanted to live in a little farmhouse in the mountains with two dogs and a cat. It would just be Ryan, the guy with a writing degree and no writing career, the apparent sex God with nothing else going for him except a little charm and some good looks.

"Jamie...I wanted..." My voice cracked again. _Traitor._ "I wanted to give you everything you ever wanted, you're my whole world. Wanted to give you everything—"

"Yeah, well you can't, okay? You can't give me everything because you don't have what I want."

And that did it.

I dropped to my knees next to the couch, my body sagging into the side of the cushions, palm gripping my forehead. "How could you....how can you say this?" I pulled my gaze from the ground to meet her, and damn it, I could feel my eyes watering, the emotions about to steamroll over me and expose me at my weakest.

She so didn't deserve to witness that.

"I'm sure you'll make someone else happy." She crossed her arms again, glancing at her watch.

"Someone else?"

"Trust me, you'll survive. You get attached easily, love easily. There are plenty of pathetic women out there just begging for a Romeo like you; plenty of them willing to put up with your joke of a career. I'm not one of them."

"Get out."

"You should never have hit Jason. He's a public figure now. He can't have a busted jaw; there will be pictures of him. I can't believe you—"

"Get out! I said _get out_!"

Her eyebrows rose and she adjusted the bag in her hand, rolling her eyes before turning for the door. "Pfft. Fine. I'll be back to get my things later. Have a nice life, Ryan."

The door slammed behind her and I couldn't think about life. All I could think about was the end—the death of something that wasn't real, never was in the first place. I'd been completely delusional, unable to see what was right in front of me. She never loved me, and the love I had for her would slowly drive me on the edge of insanity now. I rolled off my knees with a groan and sat on the floor, legs propped up, red knuckles stationed on my thighs.

Silence moved in and surrounded the apartment, making the blaring vow in my mind painfully loud.

Never again.

PROLOGUE

Running. Something I'm really fond of. Even now, at twenty-five, more than ten years after I discovered my passion for it. It doesn't matter which direction I'm going. Either way, I'm headed somewhere other than where I was to begin with, and I alone can determine the direction I want to go. I've mastered the art of running; a regular pro beginning at age thirteen, when dad took off. Hitting the pavement when his white Chevy pulled away, I chased the car as long as I could. When it was out of sight, I didn't stop. Just kept going, slowing to a jog before picking up speed again, heading toward the golden, California horizon like it was the last drop of water in the desert.

I knew what was awaiting me back home. Ashtrays hurled at the walls, echoes of hysterical sobs, the fridge that wouldn't be filled, the dog that wouldn't be walked. The list of responsibilities that would then be mine went on and on. Thinking back, I'm not entirely sure how I knew at thirteen that my childhood, my innocence, had been taken from me in a matter of seconds...you know, being a child at the time and all. How do children even understand those things when they're faced with them _?_ I guess a switch is flipped; a sobering one. In that exact moment when my dad walked out the door with his trash bags full of clothes, I just knew.

So fully aware that I'd been deemed the adult in the house and my mother the child, I lied to the hole-in-the-wall clothing boutique up the road that I was fifteen so I could get a job. So I could start putting money away for a car. The shop owner actually bought it and I forged the signature on the underage work permit form. A job meant money, and money meant the means to get a car, and a car meant freedom. It all equaled the ability to travel much longer distances than my feet could carry me during my runs.

Somehow, I stumbled through my teens and made it out alive, escaping with a few cuts and bruises from the typical teenage experience, along with a few wounds no teenager should ever have to face. My drug-dealing boyfriend took my virginity and I had no idea at the time what was so wrong with an older twenty-something having sex with me, a sixteen year old. Age was just a number. And sexual experience was important. It was the right of passage for grown-ups, after all. Besides, he did me a favor, drugging my drinks half the time, effectively saving me from having to remember all the lovely details.

I never crossed paths with the high-school-graduation and prom-dress-shopping milestones, but I did eventually hitch my way north to Washington State when I was eighteen, immediately falling in love with Seattle upon realizing their gloomy days weren't just a myth. A break from the relentless California sunshine was a relief, and Northwesterners were different. Good different. A lot of them didn't like Californians. Some of them were still living in the Kurt Cobain era and believed everyone else should be, too. Most of them loved good music. We were instant soul mates.

So, here I am, still living in Seattle, embarking on a collegiate career for the first time; a late bloomer and yet older than anyone else my age. My mom moved here a few years back after she sobered up, but her health took a turn for the worst and I've been taking care of her ever since. It wasn't until just recently I'd been able to swing some tuition money for classes. Life is good now; promising, albeit a few financial road blocks here and there.

But this isn't a story about my coming of age or all the shit I went through growing up. It's a love story about how I met Ryan. How he stole my running shoes and put reality in perspective for me. In the most infuriating, blindingly beautiful way possible, a way that only he could. And how I wrestled with his influence until the inevitable instilled me with a brand new kind of fear—regret.

1. Detention

"Is there a problem, Ms. Parker?" My new professor glared at me from the front of the classroom, no doubt waiting for me to explain myself. His hazel eyes burned into mine, his perfect, lean body resting on the edge of his desk. His arms folded, he twirled a pencil between his fingers, cocking an eyebrow when I met his question with nothing but flushed cheeks and a sigh. With my back to the classroom door, I stood gripping my books to my chest, ready to dart right back out of the room. _Shit._ This was only the third class and I'd managed to make a fool out of myself, again, late and out of breath. The sea of faces followed Mr. Campbell's gaze and I quickly sank into my chair.

"No, sorry. Again," I muttered, pulling my laptop from my bag. Being late wasn't the problem. Well, it was. But what was worse was the fact that I was soaking wet. The past three classes, I'd managed to parade through the door like a wet mouse, my boots sloshing across the floor and my trench coat buckle rustling obnoxiously against the cotton fabric beneath it as I made my way to my seat. And let's not forget the gear I lugged into the classroom. I practically carried my life in my book bag, not to mention my massive, ratty duffle bag that could take out an entire army if I swung it just right.

Each time, my entrance sounded like a bad high school marching band trudging through a concrete jungle. It was the price I paid for walking through the Seattle rain without the right rain gear. I didn't have the cash for it. Lately, the usual leaky-faucet style rain was replaced with a more relentless kind, with cold, hard drops that drenched you quickly and thoroughly. I took all four of my classes on campus in one day, and at night took a creative writing workshop in Whidbey Hall. After that, I tried to sneak in a nightly swim before I headed home. It was a long day, I needed a lot of my stuff with me, and the ride on the Light Rail was only the beginning of my journey home. It was the only way I could go to school and be available for my other obligations, though, so I made it work as best I could.

"See me after class, Ms. Parker," Mr. Campbell replied, his irritated expression turning bored, returning his attention to the other students. He let out a deep breath and shifted off the front of his desk, tucking the pencil in his top pocket. I exhaled a breath of my own, peeling off my coat to settle in.

Something about calling him 'Mr. Campbell' bugged the crap out of me. He was my age, or at least he looked it. I was twenty-five, and judging by his demeanor, I guessed he couldn't be any older than twenty-seven. He had a youthfulness about him that made his boyish good looks far too distracting for such a serious class, but his adolescent charm was weighed down by a heavy, brooding countenance that seized every inch of humor from him—if he had any humor, anyway.

The guy never smiled. Wouldn't crack a grin for anything. It only took two classes with him for me to figure out that he was no-nonsense. His earnest features had a hint of arrogance to them; the way his eyebrows slightly lifted as he spoke seemed to imply he was merely gracing us all with his presence but was tired to death of talking to such amateurs.

Class flew by quickly and I reluctantly made my way down to the front of the room to meet him as everyone filed out the doors.

"Is this going to be a habit, Ms. Parker?" He propped himself against his desk and folded his arms again, glancing at me curiously as I stood at his side. "Because I'm very fond of punctuality, in case you haven't noticed. It's high on my list of priorities."

_Good-looking, condescending bastard._ "Yes, I'm very aware of that, Mr. Campbell." I clenched my teeth and brushed wet strands of black hair behind my ear, deadpanning him. "Mondays are really tough for me. I don't mean to cause a distraction."

"Well you do," his eyes rolled over my shoulders, assessing the heavy bags draped over them. "You're very distracting. Are you carrying your kitchen sink in those bags? If you're living on campus and just trying to look like an overachiever, you should know that your charade is not endearing, nor is it going to drum up sympathy." He ran his fingers through his golden brown hair and then straightened his tweed jacket out, brushing off the coat's arms as he spoke.

I gawked at him, equally mesmerized by his bright hazel eyes and boorish remark. "Excuse me?" My brow furrowed in confusion, bringing me back to planet Earth. "I'm sorry, how is what I carry in my bags _any_ of your business?"

"It's called dry sarcasm, Ms. Parker. Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with it if you're going to be taking my class." He straightened up and pulled the pencil from his pocket again, twirling it between his thumb and forefinger. "You didn't answer my question. Is this going to be a habit?"

"Wait—wait a minute." I shook my head and closed my eyes to muster some composure. His smug stance was revolting and I wasn't in the mood for anyone's shit, especially not some pretentious professor's, who couldn't be any further from preschooler days than I was. "For the record, I'm not living on campus—your sarcasm is dually noted. And as for your implication that I'm trying to look like an overachiever, I don't appreciate you making assumptions about my character."

"So you're telling me you're not an overachiever."

"Excuse me?"

"And you are accusing me of assuming when I'm actually deducing."

"What..."

"Don't be late to my class again, Ms. Parker. That's all, thank you." He turned away and unbuttoned his jacket, reaching for his briefcase next to the desk chair.

I stood still, glaring at him in disbelief. _What the hell?_ "Did you ask me to stay after class to chastise me for being late or to arrogantly insult me after you've already made a spectacle of me in front of the entire class?"

He stopped cold when he leaned to lift the briefcase, flashing a small smile as he pursed his lips. _Holy shit, alert the media._ He knows how to smile, and it's a gorgeous, take-your-breath-away, heart-stopping one.

"I was simply acknowledging your inability to make a graceful, punctual entrance with all that nonsense on your shoulders, that's all Ms. Parker." He turned to face me again, slipping a hand in his pants pocket. "No insult was intended. And if you say you are not an overachiever, well...you're correct," he cocked his head, "that's none of my business." He tossed the pencil on his desk and strolled toward the door, loosening his tie as he did. "Oh. And yes, I believe 'arrogant' is a suitable adjective for me. If you have a problem with that, how about you take it up with the dean?" He winked and exited and I remained at his desk, staring at the damn pencil. It took everything in me not to snatch it up and flick it at the back of his head. _Oh, yeah. This semester is going to be just peachy._

* * *

The day zipped by and I stepped outside with Carter to have a quick smoke break before we headed over to Whidbey Hall for our writing workshop. It was 8:00 p.m. and my afternoon classes had been especially excruciating. I thought it a miracle that I'd made it through on such little sleep. At least I'd been able to change out of my soggy clothes earlier in the day after Campbell's class. That was a nice advantage of carrying my... _what did he call it?_ Oh, yeah. Carrying my _'kitchen sink'_ in my bag. My, my. For a writing teacher, he sure was nifty with the tongue-in-cheek clichés, wasn't he? Weren't writers supposed to be all fresh and original?

"I hear Campbell's tough," Carter peered up at me through his square, black-rimmed glasses, as if reading my mind. Campbell's name jogged me from my reverie and I immediately rolled my eyes.

"That bad, huh?" Carter chuckled, bumming me a cigarette and his lighter . His square jaw and scholarly expression gave him an earnest look, but it didn't fool me. He was a trip and a half. Carter was the one guy I'd met last semester who was my age, just starting college, too. We usually joked about how we both felt like old people encroaching on the younger twenty-something's college ways. His witty humor often had me in stitches, and it didn't help matters when we both walked through the halls doing our best elderly impressions; Carter with his imaginary cane and old pipe, and me with my granny glasses and 'young whippersnapper' speech. There were days I keeled over laughing so hard that I was sure I'd be unable to pull myself up straight enough to walk to class.

"The guy's an ass," I lit up, shaking my head. "It's a creative writing course and he acts like he's teaching us how to be neurosurgeons. This was my third class with him and I've been late each time. Today he slapped my wrist after class and accused me of trying to drum up sympathy and look like an overachiever."

"That's quite the presumptuous thing to say to a student he doesn't know."

"My sentiment exactly. He said something about all the crap I carry around and then joked about me living on campus. Like I'd walk around looking like a bag lady by choice."

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"God's gift, apparently."

We chatted about our day and stubbed out our smokes before we made our way to Whidbey Hall together, bumping into our friend Dean, Carter's band mate, on the way.

"Hey Kate, you coming to our show Friday night?" He leaned in close and touched my shoulder. "The guys would love to see you there."

"Yes. Yes, the guys would indeed." Carter rolled his eyes and smirked. I held back my grin, well aware that he was laughing inwardly at the same thing I was. When Dean spoke of 'the guys,' he mostly meant himself. With a body like a Ken doll and hair like Meredith's McDreamy, I couldn't figure out for the life of me what he wanted with me. Girls were always pawing all over him, the leggy groupie types that loved unruly, sexy musicians such as him.

But he liked _me_ , with my long, poker-straight black hair, pale skin, and plain-Jane brown eyes. My wardrobe almost always consisted of a t-shirt and jeans, with the exception of the black leather heels I tried to wear from time to time to dress up my wardrobe.

I thought for a moment of what to say, knowing I was broke and couldn't afford to spend a dime on a night out of all things. "I'll definitely try to make it. I love coming to your shows," I sent him a small smile, readjusting my book bag.

"Good, because we're opening up for that favorite folk rock chick of yours...what's her name?" Dean turned to Carter, questioning him.

"Uh...Melissa something, I think."

"Melissa Porter? Okay, you sold me. I'm there," I hopped up and down like a school girl. I could let him pay for my drink if it meant seeing her play live. "She just put a new album out. I have it at home and would love to ask her to sign it for me."

"Ah, I see how it is. So you'll come see this Melissa chick, but not your boys Dean and Carter, huh..." Dean tugged at my sleeve, giving his most charming smile. If it weren't for the brotherly vibe I got from him on a daily basis, I'd date him in a heartbeat. But it just wasn't happening, and it was probably better that way. Carter and his musician friends were the only friends I'd made since I moved to Seattle, and I wasn't very good at the girlfriend thing. The female friends I'd left behind in California were petty and fickle, and I didn't have any others to compare them to, so I chose to keep things simple. And guys, for the most part, were simple.

"Okay, Kate. We'll be sure you get a chance to chat with Melissa, but only if you let me buy you a drink—personally. Not the first random douche who hits on you." He fist-bumped Carter. I still couldn't get over their cheesy, yet undeniably cute fist bumps.

"Can't argue with that, Dean. See you then." I winked and locked my arm in Carter's, and we stood there, watching Dean stroll away.

"You know the guy's never gonna give up," Carter nudged me, letting out a sigh.

"We'd have really pretty babies, huh?"

"Yup. They'd be rad little Brangelinas, running around tearing the place up."

"Yeah, you're right. My rejection is such a disservice to the world..."

With a few more fits of laughter, Carter led me to our workshop, chatting me up in his finest faux British accent.

We shuffled into the room still arm in arm, chuckling under our breath about our favorite Briticisms when I looked up and did a double take. Mrs. Meyer was nowhere to be found. Standing in her place was Mr. Campbell, my new, not-so-favorite yet ridiculously hot writing teacher. His name was sprawled across the dry erase board in perfect handwriting, and his favorite pencil was perched between his fingers, his hazel eyes staring me down.

2. Punctuality

I cleared my throat and nudged Carter. He looked up and glanced at the other four students in the room, his eyes eventually landing on the handsome Mr. Campbell and his name on the board. Glancing over at me in understanding, he pulled his arm from mine and bowed, gesturing to the table next to us. "After you, my love," he whispered, his goofy British accent still intact.

"Is Mrs. Meyer not coming tonight?" He sat down and addressed Mr. Campbell. I settled into my seat next to him, avoiding our substitute's deep gaze. He must be in shock I'm on time, staring at me like that.

"No sir, she's not. Looks like I'll be filling in for her just for tonight." He crossed his arms and leaned against the dry erase board, glancing up at the wall clock with militant determination. He peeked at me out of the corner of his eye, returning his attention to the clock when he caught me peeking back.

Carter started scribbling on a piece of paper, passing me a note under the table like we were in elementary school. I crumpled it under my fist and surveyed the room, stifling a giggle. There were only six people in the workshop. The note passing was a bit dramatic, even by Carter's standards. Opening it up, I let out the laugh I'd been holding.

It read, "Mr. Ass has eyes for you."

"Do you think he's cute?" I wrote back, adding, "Circle yes or no."

"God, you're such a child, Kate," Carter whispered under his breath when he read my reply, giving me his most stern expression.

Mr. Campbell eyed us and cleared his throat. Straightening up, he began rustling with papers on the desk. "Okay, guys. I see the roster here says it's only you six, so I guess I'll begin."

I nudged Carter in the ribs as he stuffed the note in his pocket and finally turned to make eye contact with Mr. Campbell. I looked down immediately. Being in such a tiny classroom with him when there were only a handful of students was unnerving after my brief meeting with him earlier. I was acutely aware of how he made me feel on edge, and it wasn't just his good looks. Whenever his eyes locked on mine, I felt as if I'd seen something I wasn't supposed to and that I was being scolded for it somehow. Like everything had shifted off of its axis and it threw my confidence off kilter right along with it. I distracted myself as he began lecturing, flipping through my textbook, picking at the corners of the pages.

We began reading excerpts from our short stories to one another, discussing bits and pieces we were having problems with, volunteering to critique one another's work in pairs. Mr. Campbell rattled off a few pointers on character development and then wrapped up the session by collecting our latest drafts.

"Ms. Parker, a word?" Mr. Campbell looked up at me from his seat as he filed away our paperwork.

"Um...sure." _Huh? Oh, what now?_

Carter and I said our goodbyes and I shrugged my shoulders when he mouthed "Uh oh" to me. He strolled out after the other students and left me with God's gift.

Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to look him straight in the eyes. "I'm positive I was on time tonight, so I'm not sure—"

"This isn't about the time," he stood and leisurely pulled his jacket from the back of the chair, slipping in one arm at a time. "Though, it's nice to see you're punctual for _someone's_ class."

I watched the jacket form to his body perfectly, suddenly aware of how broad and built his shoulders were. _He's so aware of it,_ I scoffed to myself, sighing.

"Okay, so what is it?"

"This piece you're working on. It's good."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Very good. But I'm noticing you're having some problems with the end. It seems to be lagging, and I think it has to do with the pacing. Up until page fifteen, it's smooth, tight, moves right along. And then all of a sudden it becomes choppy. I think you need to cut anything from page fifteen on that doesn't advance the plot in some way." He shuffled through the file in his briefcase and handed me back my draft. "I won't pass this on to Mrs. Meyer. I think you should revisit it when your mind feels fresh and tweak it a bit more before you get her feedback."

"Okay, I can do that. Thanks, that's really helpful."

"Sure thing." He smiled at me, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Good luck with it."

"I appreciate it." Taking that as my cue, I started for the door.

"Ms. Parker," he called after me.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have that awful duffle bag with you."

"Gym locker," I shrugged matter-of-factly. "I don't have time to stuff it in there before your class in the morning. I'm usually rushing from the Light Rail. I have to take the 10:40 because I'm coming from my job downtown."

"Ah," he placed his hands on his hips. "Good thing. I'm surprised you haven't thrown out a shoulder carrying that thing around."

"Not yet," I smirked at him, turning for the door again.

"Have a good night," he slipped his hands into his pockets, watching me intently as I made my way out. "And be on time to my next class, please."

Making my way outside the building, I ran over the suggestions he'd made about my work in my head, thankful he wasn't nearly as touchy tonight as he'd been earlier that day. _Maybe we just got off on the wrong foot._ I walked to the campus pool for my Monday night ritual swim, making a mental note to myself to try extra hard to be on time to his class next week.

* * *

The music blared throughout the club, the vibrations shaking my bones as I leaned up against the cold concrete wall in the back of the room. The coolness felt good against my skin after dancing with Carter and Dean. Their band's set was over and the main act was playing now, really kicking up the place's energy. It was like an entirely different show by the end of the night, moving from mellow to rowdy in a few short hours. It was Friday night and my feet were killing me after working all day.

"Please, just one more beer, Kate," Dean begged, grabbing my arm and pulling me over to the bar with him. He raised his hand to flag the bartender and ordered before I could object.

"Fine, but then I'm done," I yelled over the noise. "Seriously, tomorrow is my one day off and I want to roll out of bed at a decent time so I can take advantage of it."

"Tomorrow is your only day off, which is why you need to stay here and keep dancing with us." Dean leaned in closer, slipping his fingers underneath my hair and around the back of my neck. His charm was wearing at me, but I quickly dismissed it and pulled away from him.

"Dean," I shifted my elbows on the bar, tilting my head.

"Kate, I don't get you. You're incredibly sexy, smart, and hands down the coolest girl I've ever met. And me, well..."

"Yes. You're a living, breathing Ken doll. I know, I get it. But I'm not that shallow, and you clearly know that about me by now, Dean."

"That's not what I mean, Kate. Come on, you know that's not what I mean." His brow furrowed, looking hurt.

"Well, what is it, then? You know I'm not up for a relationship. We've been over all of this. You're one of my closest friends, I don't want to mess that up. You can have any girl you want. They're all lining up for you."

"You're authentic. Something all of those other girls that follow me around are certainly not. You can't blame me for wanting you. Even Carter wants you."

"The difference is Carter knows there isn't a chance in hell. He knows how I am and he accepts it, Dean. You could learn a thing or two from him."

Looking even more hurt now, he turned from me and looked down at his beer. I bit my lip and shut my eyes. _Damn, Kate. Easy. Go easy._

"I can assure you this whole 'wanting me' thing you speak of has to do with me being unavailable. You guys always want what you can't have. And I promise you," I sought out his eyes, squeezing his shoulder, "it's absolutely nothing personal. I love you guys to death—both of you, you know that."

Taking a swig of his beer, he cracked a small smile and peered over at me. "Yeah, I know. I just hope you'll let someone in someday, because warding us all off has to be exhausting." He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. "I don't mean to be a pain in the ass, Kate. You just don't make it easy on us poor chumps over here, ya know."

In all fairness, he was right. I knew I hung all over him, Carter, and the rest of the band. Hung over them like all of their groupies did, only without the slutty advances and come-hither eyes. Still, there wasn't much I could do about it. I was so comfortable around them and I never felt like they were taking advantage of me. They treated me like one of the guys, like an equal. And that was something I wasn't used to. Guys hit on me and girls ran their mouths behind my back. Things rarely ever deviated from that norm. Friends like Carter and his band mates didn't come along very often, and I was very aware of the fact. Still, that didn't change things. I didn't want to be involved with anyone. Not any time soon, anyway.

We finished our beers and said goodbye to Melissa, Carter and Dean patiently waiting while I gushed to her about how much I loved her new album. They finally pried me away from her and we made our way to my apartment, enjoying the crisp Pacific Northwestern air as we strolled into the night. They walked me to my building and burst out into song, belting out "Maria" from _Westside Story_ at the top of their lungs. Dean dropped down on one knee with his arms open wide while Carter twirled around the stairway railing.

"Oh guys, please, don't—"

"Mariaaa! I just met a girl named Mariaaa!" Dean swayed his hands from side to side as he serenaded me in the street.

"You guys are out of control. That's it. I'm leaving. Good night!" I shook my head laughing, fumbling for my key as I slipped in through the building's front door. Their echoes carried on from the street for a few more minutes until they finally retreated, knocking over some empty trash cans and startling a few passersby during their dramatic exit.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, ready to bury myself under the covers and pass out. Reaching to unlock my door, I stopped short when I saw the notice. _Not again. No, no, no. Please not again._ I pulled at the white paper and unfolded it, cringing when I saw the title: Eviction Notice. I had three days to pay up, and this time, I knew I wouldn't be able to talk my way out of it by offering to tutor the landlord's daughter. I stuffed the notice in my purse and slammed the door behind me, resigned to handle it in the morning.

3. Curiosity

Over the weekend I picked up last-minute shifts at the literacy tutoring center and bartered with my neighbor Mrs. Morris, selling her my favorite antique necklace, the one with the vintage rabbit pendant. I couldn't bring myself to take it to a pawn shop. It was too impersonal. At least this way I'd know the owner of my cherished jewelry.

As she handed me the money, I instantly felt that I'd lost a piece of me. It was my mentor's necklace, the woman who practically raised me. Rabbits were her favorite, precious and innocent, just like her. She was like a second mom to me, and was also my best friend; a hippie wonder woman who was about thirty-five years my senior and yet knew me better than anyone I've ever known. She'd passed away last summer and I'd sworn to myself I'd never part with that necklace. Unfortunately, my mom's health required every ounce of my income, to the point where dodging eviction notices was becoming a full-time job.

I knew what I had to do. I had to give up school. But I was past the refund deadline and everything was paid for. It was a miracle I'd managed to even start school after putting it on hold for the last five years. Financial aid and a few grants had managed to help a little, but it was still a struggle to pay the leftover and hold my own. I was determined to finally get a degree and do something for my own future, but it was dipping into my time and now my bank account, just as I'd feared. Something had to go: school or my mom's expenses. And I already knew the answer to that one.

Carter came over Sunday night to go over the draft that Mr. Campbell suggested I change, peering up at me through his chunky glasses when he finished reading.

"Kate, this is good. I mean, _scary_ good. Why don't you submit to some of the literary journals we read? They'd eat this stuff up."

I bit the inside of my cheek and played with my fingers, thinking it over. "Maybe," I decided. "I'll see what Mrs. Meyer has to say. Getting a few more opinions on it will give me the extra confidence boost, I think. That means a lot, Carter. Thanks," I nudged his shoulder and smiled. I plopped down on the sofa next to him, relieved I'd managed to swing the rent money I owed over the weekend. Homework was done and now it was back to the weekday grind, and I was looking forward to getting back to class and making the most of it before I had to say goodbye to my academic dreams. Again.

"I think I'm going to turn in. I have a long week ahead of me and I need to visit my mom tomorrow night." I took a sip of my tea and kicked my shoes off, then curled back up on the couch.

"All right. But listen, Kate." Carter locked me in a bear hug on the sofa. "You know you don't have to keep doing this. With your mom. It's not your job anymore. Hasn't been for a while. Please tell me you'll think about it?"

"I will," I hugged him back, breathing in his warmth. "I just can't let her lose everything. Can't have that burden on my shoulders."

"But look at what you're replacing it with. You're on the verge of losing a roof over your head because of choices she's made over the years. You didn't put her in this position, Kate. She did. You've been cleaning up her mess long enough."

My arms still wrapped around his torso, I nodded, emphatic. "You couldn't be more right. I agree with you wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that she's my mom and she really is sick. How she became sick just isn't relevant anymore. I can't do that to her. No matter how much I resent her, I still love her..."

"I better go," Carter squeezed me once more and stood, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table. "I need to hit up the lottery tonight if I want to get you out of this mess. Will you let me buy a monkey if we win, though?"

"Only if you buy me an island off the coast of Fiji."

"You crazy-ass woman. A monkey is so much cooler than an island."

"How about a monkey _in_ Fiji."

"Now there's a woman after my own heart," Carter slapped his hand to his chest, sighing dramatically. "I'll let you know if we win." He started for the door.

"Uh huh."

"You'll know if we do. I'll be the one streaking on Pike Street."

" _Goodbye_ , Carter." I chuckled and shooed him out the door from the sofa, drifting to sleep as soon as he was gone.

* * *

The alarm clock startled me from the bedroom and I sat up, confused when I realized I'd spent the entire night on the sofa. I dashed to my bedroom to shower and change before heading to work. My short morning shift passed quickly and I caught the Rail to school, thrilled when I stepped foot into Mr. Campbell's class ten minutes early. He looked just as surprised as I did when I wandered to my seat, smirking slightly at the sight of my unhurried stroll.

"I'm impressed, Ms. Parker."

"As am I," I let out a breath and sat down, taking my time with my laptop and textbook.

"How did the paper go? Did you get to work on it at all? No doubt your life revolves around it..."

I stopped plugging in my charger when I realized he was making conversation _and_ being a smartass, staring at me, waiting for me to respond. I looked around the room, just to make sure it was in fact me he was talking to. His familiar haughty tone and body language were present, but his hazel eyes were softened, an engaged flicker present in them.

"Yeah, actually I did. I think it's better, but I'm going to see what Mrs. Meyer has to say about it tonight."

"Mind if I take a look at it again?"

"Um..." I froze, unsure if I wanted him to read what I'd revised. The piece was already very personal and this would be off the record, outside of class...

I bit my lip and nodded, leaning into my book bag to retrieve it. _Can't hurt, I guess._ I met him at the front of the classroom and tried not to ogle him as he scanned the page, twisting my fingers together as I watched his brow furrow as he made his way down each page. Whatever cologne he was wearing wasn't helping the annoying reality that he was definitely attractive. _Hhhmm, that scent. Twenty-seven or twenty-eight? Nah, can't be older than twenty-eight._ He pushed his golden brown hair back, running his fingers through it.

Scratching my chin, I cleared my throat and leaned in closer to see the line he was reading. He didn't stop me, just slowly held up one finger to signal me to wait, intent on maintaining focus. Students began trickling into the classroom and I became antsier, tugging at the corners of my jacket.

"I'll have to finish it after class," he finally spoke, scanning the page from top to bottom. "You put yourself in this, didn't you?" He turned to look at me, his eyes still soft, sincere. _Whoa. Those eyes are...whoa._

"Don't we always put ourselves in our work?"

"Well, to an extent I believe we do, yes. But this is so raw. Someone can't write a protagonist like this unless she is familiar with some of these situations, these emotions. It's really honest." He licked his lips and handed me the paper, nodding to students as they greeted him, but kept his gaze on me.

"Wow. I don't know what to say to that. I guess I just gave myself away." The red on my cheeks deepened and I looked down.

"There's no shame in honesty, Kate—Ms. Parker."

"You can call me Kate," I lifted my chin to meet his eyes again. "Thank you."

"I'd love to finish it after class, will you have a few minutes?"

"Sure. My next class isn't until two thirty."

"Good."

When class ended, I squirmed in my seat, watching him read as he sat on the edge of the desk, the same intent expression on his face as before. He ran his fingers over his chin and I found myself distracted by the stubble there, wondering what it'd be like to run my fingers over it too. I stood up and stretched, shaking the thoughts. Swooning over the sexy professor would only lead to a dead end. A bad one. Thank God he was an ass. Sort of.

"It's solid. Completely solid. Have you considered seeking publication?" Mr. Campbell handed me the papers and then relaxed in his seat, gesturing for me to pull a chair up to the desk.

"Just recently. A friend of mine suggested it, but I'm not sure..."

"You're ready. You're a writer, plain and simple. You're young; the world is at your feet."

Tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear, I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips together. "You think? It's so personal, you know? I'm not sure I could share that with the world. It's hard enough to have my teachers read it."

"What are you in school for?"

I blinked, confused. He knew what I was studying, knew my major because I was taking his class. "English Literature with a Creative Writing specialization..."

"Okay, and what do you think about? Every morning when you wake up. When you walk around campus through the halls. When you take a walk or listen to music. What do you think about?" He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. My eyes darted from side to side and landed on his collar, which was slightly opened, his signature tweed jacket casting a shadow across the small part of his exposed chest. I forced my focus upward.

"Stories. Untold stories that need closure."

"You're a natural-born storyteller, Kate. And this," he pointed to the papers in my hand, "is great writing. I have a lot of students, and I don't say that often."

"Th-thank you," I sat there, frozen, unsure as to why I couldn't think of a thing to say to him other than 'thanks.' I was about to flush twenty more shades of crimson when something struck me. "Have you been published, Mr. Campbell?"

"You can call me Ryan outside of class."

"Ryan." _Much better than the Mr. Campbell nonsense_. "Are you one of those who can't do, so you teach?"

He let out a low huff and pursed his lips, looking down.

_Shit. Really, Kate?_ Realizing that sounded more like an insult than intended, I tried to redeem myself. "I only meant—"

"No, I know what you meant," he deadpanned me, his face suddenly glacial. "I do write, and yes, I've been published. Two years ago I had an impressive publishing deal at my feet and personal matters got in the way. Unfortunately the bridge was burned and there was no salvaging the opportunity." He picked up a pencil and began playing with it, watching it roll over his fingers. "Anyway, I teach because it's what I know. But I haven't given up on writing myself."

My fingers twitched, draped over my knees. "I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry. I was curious, that's all. And I'm sorry to hear you lost that publishing deal, but you're fantastic. You have a wonderful eye," I shrugged, recalling his earlier encouragement. "You're young...you have the world at your feet. I'm sure you'll be accepted elsewhere."

He stopped playing with the pencil and raised his gaze to meet mine, his lips parting slightly. "Thank you, Ms. Par—Kate." We sat there for a moment, staring at one another. _Did I cross the line? Is he still offended?_ It seemed we both needed help in the self-esteem department when it came to writing. I tried smiling to assure him, relieved when his expression softened and he cracked a grin. Then I realized my hand was on the desk, meeting his.

"Well, I better get going," I stood, in need of some cool air. He recoiled his hand and cleared his throat. "Need to grab some lunch before my afternoon classes." Peering into his sexy hazel eyes and imagining what his stubble felt like was not going to advance my education in any way. Besides, he would eventually say something dick-like to deter me, reminding me why he irritated me so much. I was saving both of us time. I reached for my book bag.

"Ry, ready for lunch?" A tall redhead wandered through the door and Ryan quickly shot up from his seat, tugging at his tie.

"Ah, sure, babe. One second."

_Of course the hot professor has an equally hot girlfriend. Don't look so surprised, you fool._ I smiled politely at the redhead and waved to Ryan before making a beeline for the door. She eyed me suspiciously as I passed.

"Thanks again," I said, glancing over my shoulder as I left. I caught a glimpse of their embrace, Ryan grabbing her ass as he swung his jacket over his shoulder, mouth to her neck. _Ugh._ I sped up and breathed a sigh of relief when I made it into the hallway, thankful that while I revealed a little too much of myself in my writing, I'd managed to keep my unwelcome, wanton thoughts to myself.

4. Comfort Zone

The cool water felt glorious rushing over my skin as I glided down the lap lane, taking careful, deliberate strokes, and steady, fluid breaths from side to side. Doing laps was relaxing and I looked forward to it every Monday since my days were so long. It gave me time to burn off some stress, and also helped clear my head. I somehow emerged from the pool every Monday night with more focus, having been able to process whatever was going on in my day-to-day life.

I thought long and hard about my professor's original assessment of me, that something about me told him I was an overachiever. It was such an impulsive, instinctual comment to make. Suddenly I didn't find it as insulting as I did the day he'd made it, but was instead mulling it over.

Maybe I _did_ work too hard or too much. I reached the end of the lane and stopped myself, holding on to the pool ledge to catch my breath. The reality was I didn't have a choice, though. And after all I'd given up for my mom over the years, I felt entitled to go after my dreams—and to dream big. But that led to an intense focus on work and school, and less focus on a life outside of it all.

Shaking my head, I removed my goggles and tilted my head and arms back on the ledge, allowing my legs to float freely in front of me. _No. I go out, I have friends._ I bit my lip, picturing all the good times I shared with Carter and Dean. I hadn't had a relationship in ages, but that was by choice, and I was a master at keeping my walls up, even with my friends. But that's the result of getting burned. You don't trust. That was normal, right?

I lifted my head and rolled my eyes, tired. Maybe I was just making excuses. Either way I sliced it, I liked my comfort zone and I had no intention of letting anyone in or changing my ways any time soon.

Turning around to rest my elbows on the ledge, my breath caught when I saw Ryan strolling toward me—shirtless, in swim trunks that fit him just right—with a cautious expression. He looked around, over his shoulders, and over the pool before stopping in front of me to hunch down to my level. _Crap. Should I call him Ryan here? Or Mr. Campbell?_ Technically it was outside of class but still on campus...

"Um, hi..." I muttered, distracted by the view.

"Ryan."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure..."

"What are you doing here so late? I'm always the last one here."

"This is my routine," I said, gripping my goggles tighter in my hand, trying like hell not to stare at his bare skin. _Holy shit—tattoos._ I spotted them immediately. _The man has tattoos under all of that scholarly attire. Crap._ Now it would be even more impossible to focus when I was in his class. I had a serious weakness for tattoos, especially on the arms, and well...he had two works of art with heady aphrodisiac quality sprawled across them: one on his forearm and the other on his bicep close to his shoulder.

"But I'm usually gone by now," I managed to say. "I stayed a little longer tonight. Needed some time to think." I peered up at him and he broke eye contact, looking over at my chair for something. "So...you swim often?"

"Yes, it's my routine, too," he said, still distracted. "Especially on Mondays and Wednesdays. After my afternoon classes I get to go home for a few hours, but then I have to be back for one night class. Then I come here afterward."

"We must miss each other by less than an hour, then."

"Looks like it," he moved and sat down next to me, slipping his legs over the ledge, sinking his body into the water. "You come with anyone?" He looked over at my chair anxiously again, dunking his head under water after I shook my head "no." I glanced around, realizing we were the only two there, with the exception of the lifeguard chatting on his cell phone. I immediately felt awkward, yet I didn't want to leave.

He emerged from the water and shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair to slick it back. I eyed the towel on my chair, knowing now would be the perfect time to exit before things turned weirder.

"You have an almost perfect stroke," his voice pulled me from my thoughts of escape. "Were you on a team or something?"

"When I was a kid, yeah. Almost perfect? What does that mean?" I chuckled, trying to lean back against the pool wall and act naturally. Why did he make me so uncomfortable? It wasn't just because he was my professor. I worked hard to maintain eye contact with him as we spoke, very aware of the way his lean muscles flexed and rippled as he moved. _Nope, isn't just that._

"I meant exactly what I said—it's almost perfect. I saw you finishing up when I came in. Your shoulders are too tight, you need to loosen up. I bet you'd benefit greatly if you learned to loosen up."

_Ugh._ This right here. This was why he irritated me—his perfect ability to say something completely unwarranted and in such a self-assured tone.

" _Hhhmm_. Don't believe I asked for your opinion, Mr. Campbell."

"We're back to last-name basis now, are we?" He placed his hands on his hips and shrugged, a smug grin creeping over his lips. "Okay, Ms. Parker. Just trying to call it like I see it. You'd enjoy it more and you'd get a better workout if your stroke wasn't so tight, that's all." He swerved his torso from side to side, touching each hip to stretch. _Damn_. So comfortable and at ease with his body.

"How about we stick to talking about writing?" I folded my arms across my chest, my eyes darting toward the towel on my chair again. He was sexy, full of himself, and maddeningly right, all at the same time. I wasn't sure whether to smile back or slap him.

"I think that's an excellent idea. But first," he glanced around briefly, then moved closer, positioning himself at my side, just slightly behind my left shoulder, "promise me you'll try this. You'll feel the difference, I swear it."

I stood still, goose bumps springing up over my arms when his fingertips made contact with my elbow, hyperaware of his skin on mine.

"When you roll your shoulder," his hand slid up my arm and gripped it, "just let it roll in one fluid movement when your body shifts." He looked down at me and swallowed, his eyes lingering on my lips for a second. He stepped back a hair when his chest brushed mine, gently pushing my shoulder down and then around, pulling on my arm as he showed me how to move.

"Like this?" I repeated the motion, eyes still frozen on his fingers' grip around my shoulder. His skin set fire to mine with each light brush.

"Yeah, exactly like that," he licked his lips and shuffled closer again, his hot breath skimming my back. His hands slid downward over the curves of my hips and held onto them as I mimicked the technique. I glanced over my shoulder, and when I heard his quiet intake of breath and felt his fingers smooth over my skin, I couldn't look away. His mouth was so close, his lips moist with droplets of water. He swallowed and pulled his heady gaze from mine, stumbling backward to rest against the pool wall.

I started for the ladder, frantic. "I'll try that next time I do my laps. Thanks, I better get going." I couldn't be attracted to him. I reached my chair and snatched up my towel, wrapping myself quickly and slipping on my flip-flops. His back was still to me as he looked out over the water, slowly turning when he heard me rustle through my bag for my keys. I stood there for a second, trying to think of what to say before I booked it out the door.

"Good luck with your short story, Kate," he beat me, turning to nod goodbye. There was a knowing look in his eyes, an apologetic one with a hint of sadness. It momentarily mesmerized me but I snapped out of it before my look of intrigue turned to gawking.

"Thanks, Ryan." I swung my bag over my shoulder and sent him a faint smile, silently forgiving him for whatever he felt sorry for. I assumed it was guilt over sharing the same attraction, but something deep in his eyes told my gut that it was more than that. "I'm sure it won't be the last you'll hear about it. I'll keep you posted." I turned for the exit, giving him a light wave before I made it past the glass doors.

Without showering, I slipped my sweatpants over my swimsuit, tossed up my hair, and slid on my sweater and hoody, then darted out of the locker room and toward the parking lot. _What the hell just happened? Was I imagining things? Overreacting?_ No. I wasn't imagining the tingling I felt when he touched me, and I didn't conjure up the way he looked at me with pure, poorly kempt desire...did I?

It didn't matter because nothing would ever come of it. He was only trying to show me how to improve my stroke, the same way he was trying to encourage my writing. He was my professor. I didn't want a relationship. I had far too much on my plate. Period. I made my way to the Light Rail and toward Pioneer Square.

My muscles feeling like Jell-O, I sat there on the train blasting Radiohead's "Creep" on my iPod, admiring the majestic mountainous backdrop that highlighted the cityscape out the window. _I'll never get used to that._ The sight was breathtaking. As expensive as it was to live downtown in such a popular district, it was worth it. I chose the oldest, smallest, and cheapest one-bedroom flat I could get my hands on, and it really was a necessity because it was only blocks away from the literacy center where I worked. Even if I owned a car, it would be a nightmare to commute to and from the city every day, especially to this district.

My mind wandered from my financial struggles to my mom and how she was doing, and then to Carter and Dean, imagining what kind of trouble they were cooking up this week. All of these things were safe things to think about, things my mind was permitted to explore. The idea of Mr. Campbell—er, Ryan coming on to his students was not—especially when that student was me. And that redhead...was she a student, too?

I felt my cell phone vibrate and turned off my music to answer, my heart accelerating when I heard Carter's nervous voice in the phone, Dean shouting something in the background like a crazy man.

"Carter? What's going on?" I held my hand to my free ear so I could hear him better.

"You need to get home right now, Kate. And we need to tell you something really important. You can't be pissed at us, okay?"

"She's going to kill us, man. No way around it. You know you love us, Kate! We complete you! We're the wind beneath your wings!" Dean broke out into laughter and then the music began. He was blasting something familiar and apparently getting a kick out of it, laughing like a lunatic.

"Damn it, Dean! What the hell, man?" The sound of Carter's hand over the receiver muffled his voice, making it even harder to understand him.

"Carter...what's going on?" I spoke up over the chaos, trying to get his attention. "What do you mean 'don't be pissed at you'? What did you guys do?"

"We'll tell you as soon as you get here. We let ourselves into your place. Where have you been? You're usually home by now." Why, oh why did I ever give them a key?

"I know, I got held up...okay my stop is coming up. I'll be there soon and I'll deal with you clowns later."

"Maria! I just met a girl named Maria..." Dean started singing in a bravado voice in the background and Carter shushed him.

"It was only funny the first time, man. Let it go. Move on with your life, already." Carter laughed, distracted again.

"Carter. Did you hear me?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah," he cleared his throat and broke out his phony British accent, knowing how much it made me smile. "Sorry, love. Bloody hell, Mr. Dean, do turn that racket down, I say. Okay, Kate. See you soon for a spot of tea, yeah? Woohoo the British are coming!" He hung up. I slapped my hand to my forehead and turned off my phone, staring at it for a moment, wondering what on God's green Earth they were up to.

I rushed up the stairs to my flat and burst through the door, freezing my ass off and desperate for the warmth.

"Okay, this had better be good, because it's a school night, boys. Some of us have to work for a living, ya know."

"Hey, _we have jobs_ , Miss Hoity-Toity." Carter snapped when I walked in.

I pulled at my hoody and hurried over to the coffee pot, eyeing Dean as he sat playing imaginary drums next to the blasting stereo.

"Do you mind?" I hollered at him, pouring myself a warm cup of French Vanilla. "Now, what's this news? Did you guys rob a bank? Share the wealth."

"What kind of people do you think we are?" Dean turned down the music and joined Carter and me in the kitchen, the three of us huddled together like a little flock for extra warmth, sipping our coffees like they were our lifelines, our feet pressed together to form a link.

"Well, do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Carter glanced at Dean and then blew on his knuckles, rubbing his palms together.

"Bad. Let's make this quick because I need to shower and I have to be up early."

"Okay, Kate," Dean warned, "the bad news is you're going to have to find someone else. You might be Snow White's beautiful twin and have some of the best dance moves I've ever seen, but truthfully, you're just not the fairest one of all."

" _Any day now Dean_." I cocked an eyebrow, tapping my foot.

"I'm taken, honey. Sorry to break your heart, but it's true. I finally asked Crystal out. You remember her, right?"

" _Mmmm_...vaguely," I squinted, trying to recall her face. "That's great, though. Glad to hear you've broadened your horizons. Now. What's the bad news?"

"That's just cruel and uncalled for, Kate Parker." He huffed under his breath, looking appalled. I stared him down, then glanced to Carter, the silence rich with excitement.

"You're officially a published writer, Kate." Carter spat the words out, pulling a piece of mail from his back pocket and shoving it toward me.

"What?" I took the paper from his hand and unraveled the folds, my eyes dancing across the letter for an explanation.

"This is the 'please don't be pissed at us' part." He slowly backed away, Dean mirroring his movements. "We submitted another story of yours...months ago. We thought it was so good and we knew you'd never do it yourself, so..."

"Surprise." Dean grinned like a fool and gave a little spirit finger display.

That's the last thing I saw before I hit the floor.

5. Invitation

The room was spinning. I was sprawled out on the couch with an ice pack plastered to my forehead, Carter at my side gripping my hand while Dean fanned me with a gaudy paper Chinese fan I found at the market for two bucks.

"Kate, you okay?" Carter felt my cheek and smiled. "Good God, woman. Never thought you'd actually pass out on us."

"We were thinking more along the lines of you giving us black eyes," Dean stopped fanning me.

I slowly worked my way up onto my elbows and took a deep breath, my vision less dizzy now. "You submitted my work."

"Yes," they answered in unison.

"Without telling me."

"Yes."

"And it was accepted?"

"It's been accepted for the spring 2012 issue." Dean answered proudly, coming to sit down next to me. "You do realize that's what writers do, right, Kate? They share their work. You were going to have to do it eventually."

"I just..." My head began to throb. "I just had a long day, and this..."

"Is amazing," Dean rubbed my shoulder and smiled wide, handing me water.

"It is! Oh, it is. I'm sorry, guys. It means so much to me that you thought to do this...although I'm a little pissed you went behind my back..."

"We can still go out and rob that bank if you want us to."

"No, no. This is more than enough," I let out a squeal, feeling my strength return and my excitement build. I grabbed the letter from the coffee table and just sat staring at it.

"So, we know you're broke and all, but this gives us the perfect excuse to take you out and celebrate. Our treat." Dean slipped his arm around my waist, admiring the letter with me.

"And we won't take no for an answer."

"But I have work early," I glanced down at my still-wet swimsuit and sweatpants, felt my chlorine-fried hair. "And I need to shower."

"Well, get a move on, Cinderella. Your pumpkin coach awaits." Carter dragged me up and handed me more water before shooing me to the bathroom. "We'll have you home before midnight, don't worry."

Still in shock, I complied and let them take me out for a night of shameless karaoke at our favorite pub. Before I fell asleep that night, I thought of the first person I wanted to share my good news with and began devising a mental plan of when to go about it.

* * *

The following Monday, I felt refreshed and inspired. I'd managed to pick up a few extra shifts over the past week to get ahead on some of my bills and pay some of my mom's rent, and my publication acceptance had ignited a slew of ideas for my novel in progress. I waited for Ryan's class to end and sat patiently in my seat until most of the students filtered out so I could have a few uninterrupted minutes with him.

I couldn't help but feel he'd been a significant catalyst for my newfound success, regardless of how brief his influence was. His sincerity was something I appreciated in a world of writing teachers who usually treated us like numbers in a sea of mediocre sheep.

Sauntering down the lecture stairway, I felt uneasy when I saw him shuffling through paperwork on his desk. He looked tired and frustrated, searching for something to no avail.

"Excuse me, Ry—Mr. Campbell?"

"Yes, Ms. Parker. What is it?" He didn't look up from his pile, cursing under his breath.

"If this is a bad time, I can talk to you later." I glanced around the room, wondering why he was in such a foul mood. I spotted Carter at the door and signaled him to give me a minute. He winked and nodded, then stepped out of view.

Ryan tossed his pencil down and looked up at me; the softness that I'd seen present in his eyes before was nowhere to be found today. A short, busty blonde wandered in and gave him a coy smile as she motioned for him to join her at the door. "Hold on, Amy," he barked. Then back to me, "let's get on with it, Ms. Parker. What is it?"

"No, forget it. Sorry to have bothered you, I can tell it's a bad time." I turned for the door, fuming. _Why do I care so much? Am I really that surprised by his attitude?_

"Ms. Parker, wait a minute," he exhaled loudly behind me, still annoyed.

"The name's Kate, Mr. Campbell. Whatever. You can call me what you want. I really don't care. " I didn't turn back to face him, just kept a quick stride toward the door.

"Hey, hey," he caught up to me and grabbed my elbow. I pulled out of his reach and he put his hands up defensively. "Sorry, I was out of line. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Just as I was about to respond, Carter appeared from the hall and the four of us exchanged glances, an awkward silence falling between us when Amy popped her gum.

"Hey, you ready to grab lunch, Kate?" Carter spoke up, taking my hand in his. I watched his fingers intertwine with mine, surprised by his gesture. Carter and I hung all over each other all the time, but this felt like a possessive contact, something I wasn't used to, and with Carter of all people. It just reeked of coupledom.

"Um, sure. Sounds good." I gave him a strange look for a second, then smoothed out my features before turning to face Ryan again.

"It was nothing, Mr. Campbell. See you next week." Carter and I left him standing there with Bubble Gum Barbie, his hands stuffed tightly in his pockets and his mouth stretched into a grim, straight line.

"What was that all about?" Carter asked when we reached a safe distance from the classroom door.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"You looked pretty pissed off when you were heading for the door. It rubbed me the wrong way, seeing him grab you like that."

"Grab me like what, exactly?"

"I don't know, forcefully. I didn't like it."

"Possessively?" I held up our still-joined hands. "You mean like this?"

He stopped short. People had to walk around us.

"Really, Kate? Are you being serious right now?" He dropped my hand and just stared at me. "I'm sorry, it just looked like you didn't want to be bothered with him, so I tried dropping you a lifeline."

I stepped to the side to lean against the wall. "I know. Carter, it's just..." I let out a breath. "Shit. I'm sorry. I just don't want to be rescued, okay? My pride was already a little wounded back there. I was about to tell him how he inspired me and how much I appreciated his support and everything, and he just snapped at me. He really can be such an ass. But then at the pool and the day after class—"

"The pool...what?" Carter's voice piped up.

"Mr. Campbell just has mood swings. It pisses me off, that's all."

"The guy's just some teacher, who cares? Don't let it get to you." He shook his head and wrapped his arm around my neck to coerce me into a walk.

We meandered around the courtyard before making our way inside for some lunch, and Carter and I discussed our plans for the weekend, agreeing we'd make our normal grocery run for my mother on Saturday morning. I sipped my water and toyed with my salad, trying to shake the failed attempt at sharing my publication news with my teacher. What was his problem? And Carter was right—who cares, anyway?

I shoved a piece of cucumber in my mouth and caught a glimpse through the glass wall of Mr. Campbell and the same redhead from the other day, taking a seat for lunch outside. _Huh._ _Wonder what happened to Bubble Gum Barbie._ He still looked unhappy, waving his hands around as he got into what looked like an argument of some sort with her.

"Earth to Kate? Hello?" Carter waved a french fry in front of my face, then proceeded to ask me something about my art history class.

"Yeah, sorry. I can't concentrate today for some reason." I tossed down my fork and took another swig of water.

"You've got a lot on your mind, I know." Carter's gaze followed mine toward Mr. Campbell and his girlfriend, and I launched into conversation about Dean and Crystal, successfully drawing his attention away from the window.

* * *

That night, I made sure to arrive at the pool at my usual time. I didn't want to stay a minute longer than normal, knowing Ryan would be showing up soon. The last thing I wanted was to get all flustered around him again like a total fool and feed his ego.

I did one final lap and ducked down to let the water rush over my head, slowly coming up for one more relaxing breath of air.

And there he was. Sitting on the ledge, looking over at me.

"Kate. Will you let me apologize for earlier today?"

"Ryan. You're early." I rolled my eyes and pulled myself up and out of the pool. As I stood to my feet, he slipped in.

"I didn't mean to bite your head off like that. I'm sorry, really. I want to know what you came to talk to me about after class."

I towel-dried my hair and began collecting my things, stuffing everything in my bag. _Why not? Might as well tell him._

"I just thought I'd tell you that I'm going to be published." I wrapped the towel around my torso, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "Not the piece you read, but something else. That's it."

"That's it?" He flew out of the pool and lunged forward to hug me. _Holy washboard stomach. Avert your eyes, Kate! Avert, right now!_ "Congratulations! That's really...well I'm not surprised. Your work is brilliant. It inspires me, actually."

I jutted my head back, did a double take. "What? Inspires _you_?"

He put his hands on his hips and stared at me with bright, flickering eyes. They were on fire. "Yes, me." He tapped my shoulder. "Just because I'm a professor doesn't mean my students' work can't inspire me."

I narrowed my eyes then glanced around, trying to understand his instant mood shift. His smile was blinding, wide and enthusiastic—unlike anything I'd ever seen.

"You look thoroughly disturbed." He chuckled and crossed his arms. _Wet. Dripping wet._

"You're moody. I can't figure you out, that's all." I let out an exasperated sigh. "One minute you're really easygoing and nice to talk to, and the next..."

"I'm a total ass. Yes, it's a part of my charm. You'll have to forgive me." He glanced down at his bare feet, sexy grin still intact. I refused to let my eyes wander to his tattoos. "I'm stubborn, get pissed if I can't have my way, and I'm always guaranteed to make someone feel like shit at least once a day." He shrugged. "But I admire and value good writing when I see it, and I don't mean to treat my students that way. Especially you." He held out his hand, waiting for me to shake. "Truce?" His hand hung in midair, the other perched on his hip.

Reluctantly, I slipped my palm into his and gently shook, noticing his gaze drift from my eyes to my lips. I stepped back. "You're forgiven. And just for the record...you inspire me, too. That's what I wanted to tell you this morning. You get this spark when you talk about my writing...well, writing in general. Your passion is inspiring. And sincere." I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear. "But if you're an ass to me again, three strikes you're out." A small grin seized my lips.

He stood there, eyes soft, body wet, black ink calling my name. "Deal, Ms. Parker. So when and where is your work going to be published?"

"As far as I know, the spring issue of _The Morning Theatric_. It's a drama-focused literary magazine." The weight of my bag began cutting into my shoulder, and the temptation to lust after his body art was becoming unbearable. "But I better go; I'll send you a copy when it's published, okay?"

"All right," he leisurely turned and slipped back into the pool. "I look forward to it."

"See you around."

"Hey, Kate!"

I stopped and turned to him.

"Come see me after class again next week. I have something you might be interested in. You won't be able to resist." He smirked and deadpanned me, biting his lip.

Holy hell.

"Oh? Okay, well we'll see about that." My eyebrows twitched in amusement but I worked to repress my own smirk, turning on my heel for the door. My instinct told me not to venture into his playful territory, but _cue the Hallelujah chorus_ was all I could think.

6. An Education

"So you got to talk to him after all? Was he less of a prick this time?" Carter and I strolled through Pike's Place Market, picking up some chicken from our favorite Korean Barbeque joint along the way. The fall air was crisp and fresh. The smell of salmon, warm cinnamon, and apple butter samples wafted through our nostrils.

"Yeah, I ran into him when I was doing my laps Monday night. He was friendly and he apologized, actually."

"Ah, _the pool_..." Carter picked at my spring roll as we strolled past the luscious flowers and local art. "Mixing academics with pleasure, Kate?"

I speared him with my chicken skewer. "No, smarty pants. We happen to both swim and we run into each other sometimes, that's all."

"Oh, and you just _happen_ to swim together...at the same time on Monday nights?"

"Why is that hard to believe? It's this thing called coincidence, Carter. Shall I pick you up a dictionary while we're here, ol' chap?"

He pulled me aside to dodge the gathering of people that surrounded a market busker. She was singing one of my favorite Kings of Leon songs, her voice so beautiful and passion so compelling that I had to stop and listen along with the others. Carter stopped too.

"No such thing as coincidence when it comes to Mr. Campbell. Just be careful is all I'm saying."

Keeping my eyes on the musician and swaying my body to the music, I furrowed my brow. "Why are you even insinuating anything is going on with me and Mr. Campbell? And what are you talking about, anyway?"

"I've heard some things from Dean."

"What kinds of things?"

"Just that he has a thing for his students. I guess he has a girlfriend but he still gets involved. You know Dean, the ladies' man. He hears all from his campus groupies."

"Okay, what does that have to do with me?" I stop swaying for a moment, considering this. I knew exactly what it had to do with me. I also knew that Carter knew me better than I gave him credit for. And whatever attraction I'd felt for Ryan existed, whether I wanted to admit it or not. I had the feeling it was mutual, as much as I didn't want to admit that, either.

Who was I kidding? I was thrilled by the fact. The guy was gorgeous and as much as he irritated me, the way he got underneath my skin only made me hotter for him. I wanted to kiss him, punch him, and learn from him all at once.

But I wasn't stupid. If what Carter and Dean were saying was true, I had even more reason to stay the hell away from him. Unfortunately, I saw some of the proof with my own two eyes. Visions of _Gilligan's Island's_ Ginger and Bubble Gum Barbie popped unwelcome into my head. I threw Ginger off the boat and stole Barbie's pack of gum, distinguishing the thoughts. There was something genuine about Ryan. You couldn't always trust word on the streets.

"Don't be surprised if he tries to hit on you. By the way you look at him, I'm guessing he already has."

I turned to face him now, chucking my small square food tray into the garbage can next to us. "Carter, what are you talking about?"

"Kate, come on. I'm not blind. And whatever, it's your life. But the guy's a player. And it could screw up your academic career."

"And _his_..." I mumbled, stumbling off into thought.

"Nah, he's doing that already on his own. He's an idiot to be sleeping with his students. So you admit it? You're into him?"

I gulped the last of my drink and tossed it into the trash, then started sprinting into a power walk, away from the busker with the golden voice. "I didn't say that. I'm just thinking out loud."

"You didn't need to say it. Just don't let him screw around with you, Kate."

I stopped short, passersby bumping into me. "Carter. First, there's absolutely nothing going on with me and Mr. Campbell. Dean's little groupies might know him...more intimately. But I'm not one of them. And second, even if I _was_ interested in him—which I'm not—then it wouldn't be your job to protect me, anyway. I had a dad—a shitty one. I don't need a stand in."

"Fuck, Kate." Carter's jaw dropped. "I'm really striking out with you lately. Obviously, you _are_ into him or you wouldn't be so damn defensive. Chill out, will you? You know Dean and I just watch out for you. We're not trying to run your life over here."

"Yeah, watch out for me. Neither one of you wants me with anyone else." I started walking again, Carter trailing behind at a slower pace.

"Is that what you think?" He took hold of my arm. "You think we're friends with you just so we can own you? Go to bed with you? What, Kate. You think we're just waiting in the wings for you to change your mind about one of us?"

My eyes rolled to the ground and I swallowed, wondering how my nice day out with Carter had turned into this. The song lyrics "You're so vain" popped up briefly, waving their accusation around in my face. I gently pulled my arm from his grasp. "No. That's not what I meant."

"I think it is, but you don't have to say it. We already know. But we overlook it. _All the time._ Because you're our best friend and we'd rather have you this way than not have you at all. But sitting around watching you run off every guy you meet without ever giving them a chance...it's exhausting. You don't need to fight us off all the time, you know. You do all the work for us." He slammed his trash into the garbage can and started to walk away, swinging back around to face me. I stood still as stone, waiting. He was a volcano ready to explode.

"Even if we were waiting on you to choose one of us someday, can you really blame us? Can you even see why this stupid thing with Campbell is infuriating for me? You finally show interest in someone, and it just so happens to be some college professor playboy." He shook his head and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Your dad may have run out on you and left you to clean up the mess, but it's no excuse to shut everyone out. And if you _are_ going to finally let someone in, for the love of God, please don't deliberately choose someone you know will burn you. Because that's exactly what you're in for if you mess around with this Campbell guy."

People started staring, slowing down as they passed us. I exhaled, lifelessly raising my hands in the air. I had no idea what to say to all that. Apparently, Carter had been holding a lot in, and it was only fair to let him speak his piece.

"But you know that already, don't you?" He spoke softly now, looking at me once more before he sailed past me, leaving me in the squalls of market traffic, letting it swallow me up in its endless rhythm.

* * *

The week dragged on, my fallout with Carter leaving me listless and empty. Dean came over a few times to try and cheer me up, but he wouldn't say much, just gave me a hug and told me that we'd kiss and make up at some point.

"They were things that needed to be said, Kate. Just let him be for a while. He's crazy about you, you have to remember that. Neither one of us can stay mad at you for very long."

"Thanks for coming, Dean. Good luck with your show tonight. And tell Crystal 'hi' for me."

"Sure thing, babe."

On Monday I missed Ryan's entire lecture, zoning in and out as he spoke, trying to make sense of everything that had happened with Carter. I couldn't wrap my mind around the way he'd blown up over something that was nonexistent. I wasn't involved with Ryan, I wasn't planning on _getting_ involved with Ryan, and I definitely had no interest in pursuing a relationship at all, let alone with my professor. Didn't Carter know me at all? Hadn't I made myself clear?

The truth began to gnaw away at me, the silence in my mind revealing my most inner realities—that I did like Ryan. I did let him flirt with me, and on some level, I enjoyed it. But so what? I wasn't going to let it go anywhere. Certainly not after what I'd heard about him, even if I couldn't believe everything I heard. And knowing he was dating the redhead? And likely romancing another blonde? Forget it. I wasn't _that_ girl, no matter how much he raised my blood pressure. So why was all this eating away at me so much?

Surely I wasn't attracted to Ryan because I knew he was bad for me. And if I was, what kind of person did that make me? Knots formed in my stomach and I sank further down into my seat while I pondered the potential truth of Carter's comments.

Before I knew it, class was over, and as everyone began piling out of the room, Ryan leisurely rested against his desk, rolling his pencil between his fingers as he watched me walk down the stairway to meet him, a cocky, expectant grin on his face.

I decided to keep things formal.

"Mr. Campbell, you wanted to see me?"

"Why yes, Ms. Parker, I did." His grin turned to a frown when he heard my address, his tone uncertain. He stopped toying with the pencil and turned to grab a piece of paper. The room filled with silence as the last student shut the door.

"There's something I wanted to show you, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in going with me."

Going with him? Crap. "Okay..."

"It's a writer's conference in Portland, a month from now. I've had two spots reserved for months now, just in case one of my students wanted to attend. It's a great chance to network and improve your craft." He handed me the flyer.

I didn't take my eyes off of it.

"No pressure or anything, just thought I'd offer."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Sorry?"

"I mean, why me and not one of your other students?"

"Because I have faith in your work and I'm excited to see where it's going to take you." His eyes turned cold, his jaw set. "Is that sufficient for you?" He lifted himself from the desk, standing now.

"No, Mr. Campbell. I don't think it is."

"Is there a problem, Ms. Parker? Something you want to say to me?" Reaching for his tie, he began to loosen it, unraveling it with his fingers, angry eyes still locked on mine.

"I'm not sure I like being your pet. Or your science project, I don't know which."

"You have a smart mouth."

"You make smart observances."

"You're going to make this invitation difficult, aren't you?"

"If you're dishonest with me, yes."

"You'll regret it if you don't accept."

"Is that a threat?"

"That's a promise."

I pursed my lips and peered out the window.

"Dishonest with you about what, exactly?"

My head snapped toward him again. "Are you inviting me to this because you sincerely want me to go to the conference or because you like me?"

"Like you? What is this, third grade? My answer is both. And that's a problem because?"

"I've heard things about you."

"Oh?" He plopped down onto the ledge of the desk.

"That you sleep with your students and cheat on your girlfriend."

"Excuse me? I don't have a girlfriend. And who I sleep with isn't any of your damn business." He walked around to the other side of his desk, removed his gray tweed jacket and flicked it onto his chair.

"I think it _is_ my business if I'm going to be spending time with you off campus. And isn't the redhead your girlfriend?"

"I'm assuming you're referring to Alisha, and no, she is _not_ my girlfriend. Not anymore. Damn it, Kate, who the hell do you think you are? You're my student, I'm offering you a chance to go to this conference, and you're going to take it. That's it, nothing more."

" _Excuse me?"_

He veered around the desk to stand in front of me again, our faces inches apart, nose to nose. "You heard me. You're going to go because you deserve it. You're going to go because it's an excellent opportunity for you, and nothing you hear about me on this damn campus or elsewhere is going to deter you, understand?" He licked his lips and rubbed his jaw, glare stone cold.

My fists balled at my sides and I could feel my face flush, a combination of fury at his audacity and nervousness from standing so close to his mouth again. I didn't trust myself around that mouth.

"You don't even know me."

"I know your writing."

"That's not the same thing."

"It's more than enough."

"Are you attracted to me, Mr. Campbell?"

"Ryan."

"Ryan. Well are you?"

"Of course I am, Kate. What, are you not used to men finding you attractive? Do you need me to display it on a parade float for you? Do you want me to do a song and dance?" He spoke quieter now, an angry whisper. "I won't screw you over like the other female students I have in the past, if that's what you're asking."

"So it's true." I breathed, my eyes bouncing from his lips back to his smoldering, caramel eyes.

"I'm not proud of it and I can't take it back. So take it or leave it." He shifted forward and his fingertips grazed mine. "I won't feed you lies and bullshit, Kate. I've messed around with my students and I was a complete asshole about it. But you're too good for me. I wouldn't hurt you. And from here on out, I won't say or do anything that will make you uncomfortable. You can go to the conference without me, please just go." Too good for him? _What? Why is he talking as if he knows me? Damn it, where is this going?_

The tips of his warm fingers sent a jolt through me and I involuntarily moved closer to him, understanding the weight of what I was about to do—right here in his classroom. A hypnotic thrall reeled me in, calling me to his touch, toward the current that passed from his fingertips to mine.

I peered up at him with frustration, trying to grasp his effect on me. It was so beyond my comprehension and yet so crystal clear. We shared similar defenses, just different mechanisms. He scared people off with his sleazy reputation and haughty persona, and I scared them off with the scars of my past and my workaholic nature. I could see right through him. Was I just as transparent?

"I won't touch you unless you drop my class. And only if you want me to," he shut his eyes and leaned in further, his lips barely touching mine as he tilted his head. "I can't fuck up again, Kate. I won't. Not with you."

I rested my hand on his chest and felt it constrict, his heat pulling me in closer. "So if I'm not your student..." I whispered and brushed my lips over his, feeling his hand slip around and rest on the curve of my back. His stubble was so close and his heartbeat raced under the palm of my hand. He swept a few strands of hair away from my eyes and cupped my cheek in his palm, lightly brushed his lips against mine again, this time pressing down to capture a kiss.

The sound of the classroom door slamming against the wall caused us to jump apart.

"You son of a bitch." There stood Alisha, the redhead, arms crossed and fury present. Damn. _I thought I threw Ginger off the boat._

7. Catalyst

"Don't do this, Alisha. Not now." Ryan grabbed his jacket from the chair and glanced nervously between me and the door.

"Oh, what, Ry? Is it inappropriate? You seem to be perfectly comfortable with inappropriate things. Do I need to go to the dean? You've already almost lost your job once."

"I said _don't_."

"Where's the blonde, huh? What, you're into brunettes, now? That's new."

"I was just leaving." I rushed toward the door.

Alisha snatched my arm as I breezed past her and jerked me in front of her. "He'll do the same thing to you, you little slut. He's incapable of being a boyfriend, you know. Can't keep it in his pants. I can tell you all about it over coffee sometime."

"Alisha, back the fuck off." Ryan charged toward us, his tone deadly.

I yanked my arm free and stepped closer to her face. "Don't touch me. And don't preach your slut speech to me. If you've been with him, you're no different than all the rest, I'm sure. Sorry to hear he didn't want you, but take that up with him, not me." I flew through the door, hearing the screaming match begin before I even made it to the hallway.

The tears welled up and panic set in as I raced across campus to get to the Light Rail. _What the hell just happened?_ If I thought I wanted to punch Ryan before, I really wanted to let him have it now. And who would've thought such an elegant, demure-looking woman could be so ruthless? How could he ever be with someone so hostile? Did he like all of his bimbos rabid and feral?

I jumped onto the Light Rail and tried to regain some composure, loosening my scarf and jamming my iPod earbuds into my ears, this time opting for Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit." I was blowing off the rest of my classes, but I didn't care. I wanted to get as far away from school as possible. And the one person I wanted to run to, the one person I knew that would accept me in open arms was back in the cafeteria, still refusing to speak to me. Dean would be great company too, but things were getting serious with him and Crystal. The last thing I wanted to do was encroach on their space and make Crystal uncomfortable. She already knew how Dean felt about me. No need to rub it in.

It would have been the perfect, chilly afternoon to take a drive up to Anacortes and hop the ferry to Orcas Island for some peace and quiet, some time to think. But I didn't have the time or the funds on my side this afternoon. Instead, I headed home to my flat and ate some lunch, letting the morning's events sink in as I sipped my tea.

A knock at the door startled me from my reflections and I jumped to my feet to answer.

"Ms. Parker?" The delivery guy asked.

"That's me."

"This is urgent, from the university. Sign here, please."

I signed and took the envelope, opening it before I even shut the door. Neat, sharp handwriting danced across the letter, slanting in a crooked direction toward the bottom.

Kate,

I'm so sorry you had to go through that. She never should've spoken to you that way. Please forgive me, and don't miss out on this conference. You can hate me, but don't pass this up. Take this ticket and go. I won't be there. If by some chance you do want to talk, I'll be at Easy Street Records tonight at 9 pm in Queen Anne. I'd really like to talk, but I understand if you don't want to see me. Either way, I'm begging you to go to the conference and hope you'll finish up my class.

Ryan

I read it twice, trying to decide whether or not I should take him up on his offer. Staring at the ticket wrapped inside the letter, I grabbed it and pinned it to the fridge, resolved to think about it later. As for his other offer, to talk, that was an entirely different decision all together. What was there to talk about? He clearly had unfinished business with this Alisha person, wouldn't pursue anything with me unless I wasn't his student, and promised he wouldn't do or say anything to make me uncomfortable. Plus I didn't want a relationship. No. I couldn't afford that sort of drama.

Yet here was a desperate express mail letter telling me to meet him tonight to talk. And he almost kissed me. And I encouraged it. The whole thing was so damn confusing. _What did you get yourself into, Kate?_ Eyeing my cell phone on the counter, I picked it up and scrolled down to Carter's number. It went straight to voice mail. He was probably in class.

"Hey, it's me. I know you're still pissed. I thought a lot about what you said. And I might be on my way to do something really stupid tonight, but I need to talk to you about it first. Maybe then you won't think it's so stupid. I didn't really get the chance to explain Campbell to you the other day. There's something good about him, Carter. I just can't put my finger on it. And I wasn't being honest with you or myself." I sighed. "There's so much I need to say to you. Can you please just call me? Or come over after class tonight? I'm home. Bye."

A few hours passed and no word from Carter. Nine o'clock was inching closer and closer, and I still wasn't sure what I wanted to do. After a glass of wine, a bath, and some Melissa Porter tunes on the iPod, I felt calmer and more collected; less angry at Ryan and more with this Alisha chick.

Screw it. I'm going.

When eight o'clock rolled around, I tossed my hair up and threw on some jeans, a blazer, and my black boots, then made my way to Queen Anne.

Easy Street Records was packed. There was a line out the door and the tiny parking lot was total chaos, filled with more people than cars, just gathered around talking and laughing. I could hear music blaring from inside. Making my way across the street, I scanned the line down the sidewalk and spotted him. My pulse accelerated when our eyes locked.

And then I saw the rest of him.

No gray tweed jacket tonight. No business slacks or tie. Instead he donned a worn-out, black leather jacket and jeans. His stubble was perfectly intact and his golden brown hair was effortlessly unruly. Delicious. And I thought the pool attire was good...

His eyes brightened when I approached him and he opened his mouth, about to say something. I waited.

"You—you came," he stammered. _Wow. Where's the uptight, asshole professor tonight?_

"Looks like it," I gestured to the sign above the door. "This place is one of my favorites."

"Yeah?" His smile brightened too, and it was contagious. My face lit up and suddenly all I could think about was how normal this all felt. Like a real date, with a normal guy—not my teacher—about to watch some live music. I was overwhelmed with the desire to just have fun and enjoy myself, to forget all of the crap I knew we were here to deal with.

"Yeah, I come when I can afford it. Which isn't often," I looked down and stuffed my hands deeper into my coat pockets, trying to recall how much cash I had left for the week. "I didn't know there was a show tonight. I thought we were just going to walk around the store and talk..."

"Sorry, should have mentioned that. I've been planning to come see these guys play for a few weeks now. It's all on me, don't worry. I'm just shocked you came after..."

"How about we talk about it later?" The beers started to flow in front of us and the line began to move.

Relief evident in his voice, he said, "Sounds good to me," then stopped to pay for two drinks when we made it through the door. We worked our way to the back of the store near the door, crammed in shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crowd. The store music died down as the band got ready to play. "Ever heard of The xx before?" he hollered over the crowd's hum.

"No, is that who's playing?"

He nodded, leaning down to reach my ear. "I love them, I'll pick you up a CD of theirs before we leave tonight."

"So this is what Mr. Campbell does in his free time." Without thinking, I slipped my arm in his, locking us at the elbows. This is what music did to me: possessed me with euphoric bliss, shifted me into giddy gear.

"Contrary to what you might think, Ms. Parker, my nose is not always buried in a book." He smiled down at me, pleased, and tightened our link, hollering as soon as the band came on. They began playing a song called "Crystalised," and I was immediately sucked in to its hypnotic melody. The tempo picked up and Ryan moved behind me, slipping his arms around my waist. He sang along and tried teaching me some of the words, shouting them and spilling beer on me every few seconds, moving my hips to the rhythm. I laughed and nudged him in the ribs, continuing to sway with him as the song reached its climax.

His warm lips grazed my earlobe and I turned to meet his gaze, giving him permission to touch me. Hesitantly, he lowered his mouth to my neck, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I reached back and tugged the hair at his neckline, eliciting a soft moan from his throat, feeling it vibrate against my skin. The swarms of warm bodies around us rolled back and forth in waves, moving and breathing like a living thing, the music entrancing. Everything unspoken between us melted away and all that was left was an organic, lucid energy, slithering and weaving its way around us in an intoxicating spell.

We continued to dance until the show was over, him twirling me around, both of us occasionally knocking into people. We fed each other our favorite movie lines and joked about all of the campus cafeteria food in between songs, eventually making our rounds around the store for some album browsing at the end of the night. He followed through on his promise and bought me a signed copy of the band's album.

The next thing I knew, we were back at my apartment and flying through the front door. Ryan was hauling me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as he fumbled with the doorknob to slam the door shut behind him.

"You're fucking gorgeous," he murmured against my lips, letting out a mischievous chuckle when we knocked into my bedside lamp.

This isn't happening, this isn't happening.

He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand, keeping me tight in his arm with the other, and there they were. Oh dear God. Those black tattoos I'd worked so hard to stay away from.

Okay, it's happening.

I ran my fingers over the ink, grinning as he dipped his tongue deep into my mouth, moving to slide my shirt off. I mentally ran through all of the hows, what-ifs, and whys, and I couldn't come up with a damn thing.

We weren't drunk. We only had two beers. There was no strange chemical in the air that was making people do stupid things like the apocalypse had descended on the city and the term 'crazy' was going out of style. And there definitely wasn't an explanation for how familiar his hands felt or why I fell into a beautiful state of euphoria when our laughter filled the room. The chemistry forced us together and there was no use fighting the catalyst. Everything else would just have to work itself out.

He laid me down on the bed and tugged off my jeans, stripping off my panties before moving to his belt. I couldn't get enough of him. Each time he had to reposition himself above me, I pulled him by the neck to keep his lips against mine. Collecting my wrists in his hands, he slid them to the side of my head, then moved in to work his mouth over my neck and chest, slipping off my bra to fill his hands with my breasts.

He reached for his wallet and grabbed a condom, and I slipped it on him achingly slowly. "Damn it, Kate," he growled, biting my neck hard, drawing a slow, desperate moan from my lips. He tightened his grip around my waist, dragging his arousal along the inside of my thigh, right next to where I wanted him.

"You. In me. Now." I begged, lifting my hips to find him.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait..." He held me still and kissed my forehead, taking his fingertips and gliding them over my swollen lips and down the core of my body, stopping in between my legs. I squirmed underneath him, the feel of his hot skin unbearable. He hovered, waiting.

"Ryan..."

"Ssshhhh. Steady, baby."

When my breathing began to even out, he sank two wet fingers inside of me and pushed in then out, craning his head back to watch me as I cried out, orgasming more intensely than ever before. The sensation washed over my body and anchored me to the bed, and all I could see was the flicker in his eyes; the stripped, bare desire looming in them.

" _Mmm_ that's what I wanted." His ragged breath danced across my mouth, his nails digging into my ribs. He shifted and began to thrust inside of me, full and deep. "Come on baby, come on." I cried out harder and he rocked into me, kneading his fingers into my hair, pulling me tighter and tighter against his chest. His panting synced with mine, meeting my sighs with strangled gasps and guttural groans, our bodies moving in unison against the cool sheets.

My back arched off the bed and his breath quickened, driving harder into me until I threw my head back with complete abandon. I could feel him swelling inside of me, getting close, grabbing the headboard with one hand for leverage. " _Ahhh_ , Kate...fuck..." Seconds later we found our release together, sending the room into a dizzying spin. He collapsed on top of me and rolled sideways, tossing an arm over his forehead with an exhausted sigh.

Turning to face one another, we stared in silence, shadows floating in from the window's moonlight, dancing across our faces. I traced the shapes and patterns over his cheeks and neck, following them with soft kisses.

"What is it about you?" he whispered, the saddest smile drifting from one corner of his mouth to the other.

I ran my index finger over his lips and down under his chin, settling at the hollow of his throat. "You're not what they're all saying you are, are you?"

"That's your gift in your work. Perception."

I smiled curiously, propping myself up to give him my full attention.

"Perception, instinct. It's a part of who you are, why I feel I know you so well. That's what comes through in your writing. It's the only explanation for why you're here with me right now." Letting his hand drift over my hip, he pulled the sheet up to cover my skin. "What do you see when you look at me?"

My eyes narrowed and I pressed my lips together, weighing my thoughts. All of his bimbo admirers aside, what did I see? What did my gut tell me about this man? What did it say that allowed me to wind up here with him, under such impulsive circumstances?

"You're a sad man," I swallowed. "You're arrogant and set in your ways, but that creates a fortress for you. It's your safe haven. Behind the moat is someone who has lost something he loved, only I'm not sure what, or who. You're afraid of something and your loyalty is hidden away in a cell, wounded by betrayal." I rested my head on the pillow. "That's what I see."

"On second thought," he exhaled, letting his head drop next to mine. "You're psychic."

"Tell me."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"There's a lot to tell."

"Start with the basics."

"Alisha was my girlfriend. We broke up a few months ago and it's been off and on again for a while. She called it off for good just recently, but apparently she felt like coming around today. I tried my damndest to make things work, but she wouldn't let me forget the mistakes I made, who I was before her. Eventually I gave her what she was looking for. I returned to my old ways and burned her, very deliberately. I really fucked up, Kate."

"Who were you? Before her?"

"A sad man who'd lost something he loved. Only I used that as an excuse to get away with selfish behavior, taking down anyone and everyone with me, any way I could."

"At least you can admit it. I can't do that. I just live in denial and go on as I please."

"No, I'm just a coward. I didn't fight, just handed over my love and then gave up."

Pulling the sheet higher up my body, I reached over to hold his hand. "What did you lose?"

"A dream. My passion. For something that was never real to begin with."

Squeezing his hand tighter, I could hear the pain and defeat in his voice. Before I opened my mouth to respond, the sound of the front doorknob turning jolted me upward, my stomach dropping when I heard Carter's voice.

Whispering loudly, he called out for me. "Kate? Sorry I'm late, but I'm here."

8. Discipline

"Who is it?" Ryan whispered when he saw the panic wash my face.

"A friend. Hurry, get dressed," I flew out of bed and grabbed my clothes from the floor, dashing into the bathroom. When I came out, Ryan was standing there still shirtless, in all of his taut, chiseled glory, zipping up his pants, right when Carter wandered into the tiny bedroom. It was way too tiny to house the three of us.

"Carter," my voice was still a whisper, my eyes glued to his crushed expression. Ryan glanced between the two of us and leaned down to grab his shirt.

"Sorry, I'll leave you two..." he mumbled, reaching for his jacket.

"Don't bother," Carter turned for the door. "I'm such an idiot," he dropped an envelope on the counter and stepped out.

"Carter!" I raced after him barefoot, chasing him to the elevator. "Wait a minute, will you just wait?"

"I think it's safe to say this is a _really_ bad time, Kate." He wouldn't look at me, just kept jamming the elevator button. "I tried calling your cell but your phone was off. Sorry I came over."

"We need to talk, Carter. Come on, don't just take off like this. You haven't spoken to me in weeks."

"I can't believe you did this, Kate. I just can't believe..." He hung his head when the elevator bell sounded, the doors opening wide. "I just never thought...not you."

"Not me, what. Just say it. You want to lecture me? You're pissed, fine. So go on and say it."

"I never thought you'd be so stupid to fall for his bullshit." He moved into the elevator and hit a button. "Whatever. It's your funeral." The doors slid and covered him, leaving me standing in the hall, listening to their low hum. I'd run my best friend off. I'd let him down and crushed him in a matter of seconds. I'd wanted Carter to back off, didn't want to feel burdened because of his feelings for me, the ones that weren't mutual. Now I'd really made sure he'd back off.

"Do you want me to go?" Ryan asked quietly when I returned to the apartment. He sat on the edge of the bed, putting his shoes on.

"No, it's fine. He's just..." I stood at the bedroom doorway, crossed my arms.

"I've seen him with you before. You're together."

"No, we're not. Just friends."

"With benefits."

"Nope. Not at all."

"Well, he's got it bad. Can't blame him."

"That's what _he_ says. Shit." I leaned my head back against the side of the door frame. "Sorry...about that."

"I think what you just went through with Alisha today was far worse." Ryan stood and came to me, gently rubbed my forearm. "I better go. He's right about me, you know. When you find out who I am, you'll realize you deserve better. Much better."

"I thought we just talked about this," I reached out and anchored myself to him, wrapping my arms tight around his neck. "It's who you _were_ , not who you are."

"If you're not kicking me out, we should talk...about everything."

I led him to the couch and we both sat down, ready to face the inevitable.

"I won't drop your class."

"Please, Kate. I can't stay away from you now. I'm a goner." He reached over to pull me onto his lap. "But I don't want to be that asshole professor anymore."

"You're not to me. So, who cares what the rest of them think?"

A distant gaze settled on his face, his brow furrowed.

I took his face in my hands. " _You're not to me._ I won't think that of you, so just remove that from the equation right now."

"My reputation is already shot to hell. I don't need more rumors going around, and I'll be far too distracted." He lightened up a bit, turning to pull on my earlobe with his teeth, coaxing goose bumps up on the back of my neck .

"It'll cause even more rumors if I drop your class. And now that Carter and Dean know..."

"Who's Dean?"

"Another good friend of mine. He's tight with Carter and he's the one who told Carter all about you in the first place. Not that they're the type of guys to run their mouths, but it still makes me uneasy."

"He did, did he?" His lips set into a frown. "Well I already swore to Alisha that you dropped my class, that you weren't my student. It was the only thing I could think of to try to mollify her after she saw us together. She dumped me, so I don't see how she thinks it's any of her business anyway."

"You what?" I leaned back to look him straight in the eye. "You can't be serious."

"We didn't exactly have time to prepare for any of this. The best thing we can do right now is damage control. If we want to be together, you shouldn't be my student and we need to lay some ground rules."

_Be together. He wants to be together._ _Well, this definitely changes things_.

"Ground rules."

"Yes, ground rules."

"Ugh, you are such a teacher." I rolled my eyes.

"And you're a natural-born rebel, aren't you, Ms. Parker? I'm sensing a strong aversion to authority in those beautiful bones of yours," he pulled at my chin and smiled when I squirmed away.

"Okay, professor. What are these ground rules, exactly?"

"We stay away from each other on campus, which means no more nightly swims together. And you transfer classes."

I remained silent, knowing I had to stand my ground. Steering clear of one another at school would be a cinch, but dropping the class wasn't an option. "Look, Ryan. I'm not about to drop everything, change my whole schedule mid-semester, and transfer classes just because we're...interested in one another. Considering a relationship with you—or anyone—is already a stretch for me right now. It's hard to think about having one at all. And after what I just saw today with you and Alisha...you're—"

"Totally ready for one," he finished.

"Huh? But what about the blonde, too? Is she—"

"She's history. I won't see her again, you have my word."

"So...you're ready for a relationship?"

"I told you, Kate. Alisha and I have been broken up. The blonde was just...a distraction. And then you came along." He pushed the hair back from my face. "You're a game changer for me. Is that clear enough for you?"

I leaned into his palm, flattered, but aware I needed to tread carefully here. The thought of a relationship with someone was not appealing to me, but Ryan wasn't just anyone. He made every other Average Joe pale in comparison, and my instincts told me he was worth the effort. He was a game changer for me, too, and I needed him to know that. But I wasn't about to turn my world upside down. There was too much happening, too fast.

"But I understand if you don't feel the same way." He recoiled his hand from my face, breaking my train of thought.

"It's not that." I placed my hand on his knee. "The feeling's mutual. I just don't have time for anything high maintenance right now, Ryan. And dropping my class to be with you is high maintenance. You'll have to think of some other way to get Alisha to back off, I'm sorry." I stood up now, feeling irritated, although I wasn't sure what I was more irritated with: the redheaded beauty who had to witness my scene with Ryan earlier, or myself for allowing Ryan in to stir up my world."If the dean's already aware you've dated your students before, another rumor isn't going to make a difference, even if Alisha opens her mouth. What validity does she have, anyway? They'll see that she's just a jealous ex-girlfriend who wants to cause drama. What are the No Fraternization policy specifics, do you know?"

"Relationships are discouraged, not prohibited."

"Well, then what's the problem?"

"It's not just about my job's policy, Kate." He stood up now, following me to the kitchen. I removed a glass from the cupboard and filled it at the tap, then took a slow sip . "I told you, it matters to me, personally. Can you understand that?"

"I can. I understand it's important to you. But you _did_ pursue me, and now we're in this." I waved my hand between the two of us. "I do recall your words being something to the effect of 'I won't touch you unless you drop my class.' And I never agreed to that."

Ryan rubbed his face in his hands and looked at me disapprovingly. "I take responsibility for that. But if you won't bend, we need to find an alternative. This will reflect poorly on the school and on me, and I'm trying to leave all that shit behind me." He shuffled forward and pulled me against him, sticking his forehead to mine. "But tell me about this you-not-wanting-a-relationship business. I need to know what I'm in for, here. Do you want to see other people?"

I peered up into his eyes, carefully considering my words before I spoke.

Honesty's the best policy here, Kate.

"No. I want to see you exclusively, but you need to know upfront that I'm not looking for anything serious. Casual is all I have time for, so if you're not up for that..."

"I can do casual." He scooped down and stole a kiss, one that turned from slow and careful to passionate and hungry. "I can do anything you want," he whispered, his words melting into my mouth as he lifted me up into his arms. And then we were on the counter, and all of my worries about Carter, school, and Alisha's threats were heaped onto the floor along with our pile of clothing.

* * *

Saturday morning, I raced around my room, trying to get dressed and have a debate on the phone with Dean about whether pumpkin pie or apple pie was the best Thanksgiving dessert. He was adamant that apple pie was the superior choice, but I didn't back down on my pumpkin pie team spirit.

"Dean, I don't have time to argue with you over pie, damn it! I have to get ready. How about I call you back when I get home from my mom's so we can ponder the meaning of life, okay? You know, something of a little more significance."

"Kate, if you don't share my passion for apple pie, there's no way this friendship is going to work."

There was a knock at the door. I dropped my hangers and hurried to answer it. Carter stood there, our grocery totes in hand.

"Um, Dean...Carter's here. Gotta go." I hung up on him, holding the door open in shock. "Hi...you're here."

"It's Saturday. Are we going to the market or not?" He slipped past me, tucking the tote bags underneath his arm.

"Yeah, sure..." I didn't move. "I guess this means you're ready to talk?"

"Guess so."

"Okay, let me just change. Hold on."

We walked down to Pike's Market and resumed our usual Saturday routine, shopping for my mom's groceries. We bought her enough to last the week and then delivered them to her every Saturday around noon.

It always meant the world to me that Carter came with me. He knew how painful it was for me to visit my mom, to see her condition and to be reminded of my past. When my dad left, she shut down. She quit her job, lost our house to foreclosure, and basically became a zombie because of the drugs. I had to learn to fend for myself at a very young age, and I never really got her back after that. She'd hold a conversation with me, but there was an emptiness in her eyes, a robotic response to her voice.

"So what's the deal with Mr. Suave? Is he officially your new boy toy?" Carter asked as we sauntered through the market, picking up my mom's favorite chocolate pasta and fresh melons. He gave me a small, truce-like smile. He was trying, and I really appreciated it.

"We're not officially anything," I answered, lingering at the bakery window, contemplating whether or not to treat myself to something sweet. "I mean, we've agreed to see each other exclusively, but on casual terms. He knows how I feel about getting into a relationship. He wanted me to drop his class, but I won't do that, so we've agreed to keep our distance on campus and limit our time together until the semester's up."

"That won't be easy if you're crazy about each other."

I stopped ogling the pastries for a moment, chewing over Carter's words. He was feeling me out, wanted to know how interested I was in Ryan, and this was his way of doing it. I knew him too well.

"We like each other a lot, Carter. It'll take some discipline, don't get me wrong. But I just met the guy. No one's going crazy over anyone just yet."

"Well it's going to take some discipline on my part to keep my cool around him. I swear, if he hurts you, Kate...I can't be held responsible for what I'd do to him."

"I told you, it's not your job to rescue or defend me." I linked my arm with his and ushered us away from the bakery window. "I appreciate your concern, and I know what Dean's told you about him, but you have to trust my judgment."

"Oh. Right. There's something _good_ about him, apparently."

"There is, Carter. The guy's earned a shitty reputation but he owns up to it. He says he's done with all of that, and I believe him. Haven't you ever wanted to start over? Doesn't it offend you and make you feel worse when someone doubts your sincerity? Let's give him the benefit of the doubt. And in the meantime," I slipped one of the tote bags higher on my shoulder, "what we do or don't do is our business. You and Dean need to play nice and stay out of it, okay?"

"If that's what it takes, Kate."

I thought about his strange choice of words but didn't question him. Whatever tension was still brewing between us, I wanted to keep it at bay and if at all possible, extinguish it entirely. This conversation was over.

We made our way out of the market and toward my mom's place, setting the heavy grocery bags down at the doorstep for a second before knocking. No answer.

"She always has the TV on so loud, she can never hear us in there." I rummaged through my purse for the apartment key, while Carter waited patiently behind me. I propped open the door and we picked up the bags, taking a step inside.

"No," was all I could manage when I saw her there on the floor, slumped on the carpet with a burnt-out cigarette still perched in her right hand. The bags of groceries dropped to the floor and I followed them, immediately erupting into deep, heavy sobs that made Earth and time stand still at their feet.

9. Atlas

I ran my fingers over the ancient-looking world atlas, the last gift my mother ever gave me. It was singlehandedly the most significant gift she'd given me because it represented the very best of her—the part of her that was left even after she'd checked out on life. She'd always had a bad case of wanderlust and never had the chance to travel to her dream destinations. The damage the drugs had done to her body after my father's absence prevented her from ever having the chance to go. When I opened the old tattered book on Christmas Eve, she'd said to me, "I found it at a garage sale. This way, if you're ever lost, you can find any place in the world and you'll know exactly where to go." It was this one gift that told me she loved me in the only way she knew how. A medium for her to share her dreams with me and to encourage me to chase my own.

My bed was my haven all week long, Carter, Dean, and Ryan all coming and going periodically to check on me. I hadn't let the atlas move from my grip. I carried it around the apartment and kept it in sight, even brought it with me to the funeral and the wake. A heart attack had taken her from me, yet in some strange way, I'd already grieved her and had accepted the loss. I'd lost her long ago, and her physical death was closure, almost a relief, although I dared not say it aloud.

I stumbled through the stages of grief in the following weeks, holding onto the good memories I'd had of her, those that came before my father's abandonment, and left the rest to lay with her in the casket. The good was what mattered. It was how I wanted to remember her.

"Can I get you anything else before I take off?" Ryan asked, kissing my forehead. He held me tight in his warm arms, resting one of his hands over mine, over the atlas.

"No. Thanks, though. I hope you have a good time. Drive safely, okay?"

"I will, don't you worry. Are you sure Carter will be here at 5:00?"

"Yeah, he gets off work at 4:00. He'll be here."

"Alright, I'm just a phone call away if you need me." He gently slipped me out of his arms and covered me with the blanket, leaning down to kiss me goodbye. "I'll be thinking of you." He sent me a soft smile and turned for the door. When I heard the lock turn, I forced myself up and into the shower, leaving the atlas on the bathroom counter. Toting it with me out to the kitchen when I was done, I set it down and examined the small white envelope Carter had left in the kitchen the night he'd come in and found Ryan and me together. I'd never bothered to open it, leaving it buried underneath a mound of junk mail. _Oops._

I took a big sip of orange juice straight from the carton and sliced open the envelope, dropping the carton when I saw the necklace. My mentor and best friend's rabbit-pendant necklace, the one I'd sold to my neighbor to make the rent during the beginning of the fall semester.

"How...oh my..." I found the kitchen stool and staggered over to it, sitting down to stare at the cherished accessory, ice cold OJ in a puddle around my feet. "Oh, Carter." The tears started flowing and before I knew it, I was in a pool of them on the counter while I bounced back and forth from a hysterical laugh to a painful weep, mostly settling somewhere in between. I held the atlas in one hand and the necklace in the other, remnants of the women who'd shaped me, pieces that would haunt and feed me until the end of my days.

As promised, Carter showed up at 5:00 sharp, lifting me up off the stool when he found me huddled over the counter. Dean came in a few minutes later.

"Come here, babe," Dean said, helping Carter ease me on to the couch.

"No, no." I shrugged them off and stood to my feet. "I can't sit around here and wallow anymore." I blew my nose and turned for my bedroom. "Don't get too comfortable. You're taking me out." Dean and Carter glanced at each other and began to whisper as I shut the door to change.

"She's lost it. I don't think we should take her out like this."

"Where the hell have you been, man? She lost it weeks ago. She's just getting warmed up."

* * *

The club was loud. _Really loud._ Loud was good. I couldn't take much more silence. I jumped around to the music with Dean, Carter, and Crystal, taking shots and laughing my ass off. I couldn't remember the last time I'd laughed that hard. As the booze started to flow, the good judgment went right along with it. Dean was rambling, confessing his undying love for Crystal—to her face—and Carter was blabbing on about how he swore he was adopted. I was about to divulge too much information about my bedroom escapades with Ryan when two blondes approached us, smiling giddily at Dean.

"Okay, Crystal, how about we make our way to the front of the stage?" Carter half scooted, half fell off his stool, grabbing a very drunk, very irritated Crystal, dragging her away from our table. _Good thinking, Carter._

I glared at Dean and cleared my throat, gesturing for him to do away with the blondes.

"Ladies, no autographs tonight, sorry." He ran his hand through his hair and took a swig of his beer, then shrugged at me.

"We don't want autographs, Dean." The one blonde leaned on his shoulder, brushing his hair back. "How about you come dance with us? We haven't seen you around campus, we miss you, baby."

"Are you blind?" I spoke up, pissed that Dean was letting them hang on him when Crystal was in plain view. "He's here with someone."

"Who asked you, honey?"

"Hey _honey,_ how about you and your little friend here both run along and find another musician to drool over. You're in a club full of them."

"Oh, so bitter. What, haven't had your chance with Dean? So sad, too bad." The other blonde piped up now, hovering on the other side of Dean.

"Dean, end this right now." I ignored her, grinding my teeth.

"All right, ladies. Move along, nothing to see here. You heard the woman." Dean tried shooing them away to no avail.

"How about you mind your own business, sweetie." The mouthier of the two blondes sneered at me, sizing me up. "We know all about you and Professor Campbell. Heard you're screwing him even though he's with Alisha. You're in no position to be judging us."

"What did you just say to me?" I stood up, the booze making me brave.

"You heard me. You're no better than us."

"Yeah," the other bimbo chimed in, "how does it feel to be Ryan's latest conquest? He loves a good challenge, you know. Won't be long now before he gets bored of you and tosses you out like the rest of us." The girls started giggling, relishing my reaction. My face dropped, went completely pale. "Let me guess, he gave you the 'I won't touch you unless you drop my class' spiel, right?"

Dean eyed me nervously and finally came to my defense. "Shut your mouths. Now. Get lost."

"So pathetic," one of them snickered, rolling her eyes and taking her friend by the hand to leave. "Tell Ryan I still have his jacket if he wants it. And oh, he's fond of ménage. If you two ever need someone, give us a call." Their laughter got louder as they shuffled away into the crowd. The color continued to drain from my face, stealing away the little bit of life that I had left.

_He'd been with these girls. These were the girls Dean told Carter about._ _How many more were there?_

_Oh, God._ I suddenly felt sick and darted for the club entrance, in need of some fresh air. The moment I hit the sidewalk pavement, I started retching, bending over in the corner near the parking garage. Dean poked his head out the front door past the bouncers and called to me.

"Kate, it's okay, babe. I'm grabbing Carter and Crystal, hold on."

I took a deep breath and leaned against the building's brick wall, holding my stomach while I searched my handbag for my cell phone. Scrolling through my voicemail messages, I found nothing from Ryan. He said he'd call when he made it to Portland but never did.

"What the hell happened?" Carter came rushing over to me, turning to question Dean. He handed me a bottle of water and a napkin.

"Some bimbos were running their mouths to her about Ryan. Come on, let's get her home." Dean started waving for a cab. Crystal and Carter held me up, each with a hand underneath one armpit. Back at my flat, we all passed out: me in my bed, Crystal and Dean half on the couch, half on the floor, and Carter in the bathtub.

The next morning, I pulled myself out of bed and wandered to my bathroom to find Dean taking pictures of Carter in the tub. He kept messing with his phone, laughing under his breath, grinning like a school boy. He'd positioned my loofah in Carter's arms so it looked like he was cradling it and had propped a throw blanket over him.

"Dean...for the love of God..."

"The guys will eat this shit up!" he snickered and snapped a few more shots, turning to me with urgency in his tone. "Kate, please tell me you have a rubber ducky. Oh God, _please_ tell me you have one."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, sure. Let me get right on that. I'll just go get my bathtub toy box and _bust one out_."

Enthusiasm set fire to his eyes, his grin widening with delight.

"Damn it, Dean!" I slapped him across the back of the head. "No, I don't have a rubber ducky, for crying out loud. Leave him alone, the poor guy." I turned to the counter and snatched up my toothpaste and toothbrush.

"No Bert and Ernie shampoo, either?" He shook his head and threw his hands up in the air, finally shoving his phone in his pocket. "We seriously need to stock your bathroom, Kate. These are critical items, do you understand? _Must-have items_. For moments _exactly_ like this."

My laughter sent the toothpaste down the wrong tube as I brushed and I erupted into a choking fit, causing Carter to stir. Kicking Dean out of the bathroom, I closed the door and finished brushing my teeth, handing Carter some aspirin and a glass of water when I was done. I sat on the edge of the tub, waiting for him to awaken from his groggy stupor.

"How about I make you some breakfast? You'll feel better." I rubbed his shoulder and wet a washcloth, pressing it to his forehead to wipe the hair from his eyes.

"How. Are you up? And cheerful? And looking gorgeous?" He attempted to sit up, his voice raspy. "You were the one puking last night."

"Yeah, well. I might be a lightweight, but I have recovery superpowers you lushes would kill for." I smiled down at him, wondering if he realized he really did look as bad as he probably felt.

"You don't know how much it means to me that you bought that necklace back, Carter. There aren't words. Thank you."

"If I would've known it would send you into a breakdown and a puddle of orange juice, I never would have given it to you." He grinned sleepily, stretching his arms out.

"Well, it was worth it."

"Any word from lover boy?"

"No." I stood and brushed my hair, not wanting to talk about Ryan. He'd be back this afternoon, and he told me he'd come straight to my apartment from Portland. But I wasn't ready to face him.

"Trouble in paradise already?" Carter crawled out of the tub and I helped lift him over the ledge. He didn't make it far, making his next stop on top of the toilet seat. "Kate, you can't listen to those girls. You already knew about his past. He told you, right? So what happened to giving him the benefit of the doubt and all that happy horse shit?"

The fact that Carter was saying these things, trying to encourage me to go easy on Ryan said a lot. He either had the same good instincts about him that I did, or he was just a really, really good friend. I figured both options were possible, but the latter was definite.

"I'll deal with it later."

"Kate..."

"Carter, drop it."

"Fine. I'm too weak to argue."

"Good. I'm going to make breakfast."

After making everyone coffee and toast I slipped back into bed with my laptop to write. Despite my run in with Playmates of the Year last night and my weepy episode yesterday before we went out, I was feeling better than I had in weeks. I could feel my strength returning. Inspiration had ebbed and flowed since my mom passed, but my unease about Ryan had oddly sparked a much-needed reminder of why I didn't want or need a serious relationship. Why I needed to stay focused on school and on finishing my novel. No one was going to take any of that focus from me, all I'd worked so hard to build on my own over the past few years. I'd continue to hold myself up all on my own just like I always had.

Staring out the window, I paused typing for a second, turning my head when Ryan slipped through the bedroom door.

"Hey," he whispered, his face flushed with affection. "How are you feeling? You look better. You're up writing. That's...great." He slid off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his sleeves and collar before sliding into bed next to me. _Of course._ _He had to look perfectly scrumptious._

"You're early."

"Yeah, traffic from Portland was dead this hour on Sunday morning." He leaned in to kiss me but I pulled away, my eyes fixed on the laptop screen.

"Kate? What's going on? I missed you, come here." He tried pulling me to him, but I pushed at his chest and swung my legs over the other side of the bed to stand.

"We all went out last night and I met some girls you screwed around with."

His gaze drifted toward the window and his shoulders sank, shame pulling the corner of his lips down into a somber frown. "And?"

"And it shouldn't have upset me because I already knew...you'd already told me..."

"But it did. Bother you."

"It was something one of the girls said to me. I can't shake it."

He stood swiftly, walking around the bed to take me in his arms. "Tell me, Kate. Tell me what she said and at least give me a chance to defend myself. I can see it all over your face, you're already thinking about throwing me out."

"You've told them all the same thing you told me that day in the classroom before Alisha walked in, haven't you? That you wouldn't touch them unless they dropped your class."

He gulped and glanced from side to side. "Of course I did, I was trying to save my own ass. But I never meant it, I screwed around anyway."

"And you meant it with me?"

He stepped back now, anger overshadowing his concern. "Did I or did I not beg you to please drop my class the first night we were together? Yes, I meant it." He shoved his hands in his pockets and steadied his voice. "Look, I know you're still having a hard time about your mom, but that's no reason to push me—"

"Don't you _dare_."

"You hear one thing from these girls and you're ready to send me packing. I'm being honest with you, Kate. What more can I do? You think it's fun for me to talk to you about all of this? About what an asshole I've been?"

"You never called," I changed tactics. "You swore to me you'd call when you got to Portland last night. How am I supposed to trust you, Ryan? Can't you put yourself in my shoes for one second?"

"Damn it, I've been trying!" He pulled his hands from his pockets and raised them in the air. "I can't get past the fact that you even gave me a _chance_ , that you're here with me right now. I don't fucking deserve you, Kate. If I could make sense of a single thing that was going on in your head, I'd be thrilled, believe me." He stepped forward again, fisting my hair, bringing my face to his. "Tell me what you need from me. Don't push me out. We have something good going and I'm not giving up that easy, so say whatever you have to say."

I thought of my beloved atlas and the necklace Carter had miraculously bought back for me, how emotional I'd been and how the run in with the blondes had sent me over the edge. The past few weeks had been hell and I knew I was still tender from all that I'd been through.

I peered deep into his eyes and saw it again—that same sincerity I'd seen and sensed before, that was hidden beneath his stormy, arrogant surface. _Don't push him away, Kate. Give him a chance to show you he won't hurt you._

As much as I wanted to, I couldn't afford chance.

I'd worked damn hard to create a safe haven for myself, a place to call home, one that no one could level. If I continued anything with Ryan, even something casual, there was a very good possibility that he'd take a wrecking ball to it and break down my fortress.

"I need you to leave, that's what I need from you."

His fists tightened in my hair, sadness sweeping his features. "Kate. Don't. I'm sorry I didn't call. Everything was so crazy once I got there, I had to meet and talk to so many people. Then I crashed the minute I got back to my room."

"Thank you for being here for me since my mom passed away. But this isn't going to work. I need you to leave. Now, please."

We stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity until Ryan's arms dropped to his sides, mine guarded coolly across my chest.

The bedroom door creaked open and Carter popped his head in. "You guys better be decent." He kept his head down. "Just wanted to see if you wanted any of this breakfast before it got cold, Ryan."

"No, man. Thanks. I was just leaving."

Ryan picked up his suit jacket and swung it over his shoulder, then slid past Carter through the bedroom door. His departure took with it a heavy regret. I knew I'd made the wrong decision. But a wrong decision was better than a deadly one.

10. Time Out

"What was that all about?" Carter hadn't moved from the bedroom doorway.

"Nothing." I sat back down on the bed, eyes glued on the view out the window. I picked up my laptop and opened it without looking at it, letting it rest on the pillow.

"You ran him off?"

"Save your lectures, Carter. I'd like to get back to my novel, if you don't mind."

"Damn it, Kate. I was just starting to like the guy. He hasn't left your side since your mom passed. I think he really cares about—"

"I said _save it_. You don't know what he cares about."

"Well maybe if you'd talk to me about it, fill me in a little. But I guess that's too much to ask from your best friend." He slammed the door and I heard him mumble something to Dean and Crystal.

What was Carter's deal, anyway? He was anti-Ryan from day one and now all of a sudden he was rooting for him? Whatever. I did what I needed to do. Propping my back up against the headboard, I swung the laptop over my knees and buried myself in my writing, dreading class the next day.

* * *

The damp, fall air chilled me to the bone as I made my way to Ryan's class. Out of all the weeks that'd passed since my mom died, I'd only missed two classes, although my grades had taken a significant hit even when I'd actually attended. Thanksgiving was Thursday and then the semester would be wrapped up by early December. Only a few more weeks to earn some higher scores to pull up my grades before finals.

My stomach bunched up into tight knots when I approached the classroom; I felt completely exhausted when scenes from the past weekend flashed through my mind. Carter had backed off about Ryan, and Dean had remained tight-lipped about the whole thing, barely mentioning Ryan's name.

And as for Ryan, he barely acknowledged my presence when I stepped into class. His face was stone, expression distant. My eyes shot downward, instantly feeling a bit hurt when he didn't say hello or even nod. _Hello,_ _what did you expect?_

I told my inner monologue to mind her own business and cracked open my textbook and laptop to get ready for the lecture. Ryan launched into his lesson and was interrupted only a few seconds in when the front door cracked open. In strode Alisha in tall, deadly, yet undeniably sexy heels and a long, thin pencil skirt with a frilly white blouse. My eyes widened at the sight and I sank down into my seat, keeping my face hidden behind my laptop screen. _What the hell is she doing here? Is she insane? Coming to argue with Ryan in the middle of his class? She has to know she can be kicked off campus for something like this._

Ryan turned from the dry-erase board where he'd been writing and much to my amazement, didn't look surprised. In fact, he looked expectant. Bored, but expectant. I watched their exchange curiously as she discreetly slipped him some paperwork and whispered something in his ear, a soft smile painting her face. _No arguing this time, I guess._ He nodded to thank her and she turned to leave. When she did, a small, silver plaque jumped out at me. It was fastened to the right side of her chest. A name tag. _She works here?_ How did I ever miss that?

I found myself distracted for the rest of class with this new piece of information. Ryan handed us papers we'd written a few weeks ago, tapping mine gently when he placed it in front of me. His soft fingertips grazed my hand when I reached for it and I reflexively peered up at him. His eyes met mine for a brief second but I broke the contact, suddenly overwhelmed with how much I missed him. He cleared his throat and moved to the back of the room to continue his task.

That night at the pool, everything felt off. It was dead quiet that time of night as it had always been, but the silence felt thick and heavy. Unavoidable. I poured every ounce of energy I had into my laps, focusing extra hard on the technique and form Ryan had shown me. I did a few more laps and then sank down to hold myself underwater when I reached the wall, wanting to feel the weightlessness of my body, the cool water glide over my skin, the peace that came with being submerged in quiet beauty. I wanted to feel something. Anything but my regret.

Like clockwork, Ryan showed up at his usual time, just as I was packing up to leave.

"Ms. Parker." He nodded civilly, stripping down to his swim trunks.

"Ryan." My voice was a heavy plead, aware I never gave him the chance to explain himself. It was only fair. "I'm sorry for the way I handled things yesterday." I towel-dried my hair and watched him sink into the water, flinching when he felt the temperature.

"It's okay, Kate. I understand. Water under the bridge."

"Really? That's all you have to say? Because I didn't let you finish—"

"There's nothing else to say. You've made yourself clear enough, I don't think I have much of a say in the matter."

"I'm giving you a say. Right now. Wait a minute." I tossed my towel on the chair and walked to the pool ledge to stare down at him. "What happened to 'you won't give up that easily'? Was I right about you, then? Was I just like the others you screwed around with?"

"You know you weren't—aren't. I've already tried telling you that. But you seem intent on hearing what you want to hear." He stiffened and began to stretch. "I'm very sorry for all you've been through with your mom. I really do wish you the best with everything. With finals, too. Now, if you'll excuse me."

And that was it. That's all he was going to say. He turned his back to me and positioned himself, his face expressionless.

"So whatever you felt for me, you're just going to turn it off like a switch, is that it?"

"Are we done here?" Alisha's voice came from behind me. I had to stop my jaw from dropping. I swung around and burned her with my glare, storming around her to pick up my backpack.

"Yeah. We're done."

"What are you doing here, Alisha?" Ryan asked, irritated.

"Why won't you return my calls? I thought you let her down easy, Ry. What the hell was that about?" Her bitchy response launched them into a scuffle and I burst through the locker room doors, furious.

I was right about him. So was Carter. Clearly, I had been a complete and total fool to have fallen for _any_ of his shit. He was still seeing Alisha. Either that or he wasted no time getting back together with her. Just yesterday morning, I was wrapped in his warm, protective arms, and today, tossed out like trash.

I skipped my shower and decided to clean up at home, jogging to the Light Rail station. I couldn't get there fast enough.

* * *

Thanksgiving was quiet and lonely, although I had an invitation to eat with Carter and his family. I politely declined, opting for solitude in my tiny apartment. Plus I decided to keep my run in with Ryan and Alisha secret from Carter. The last thing I wanted was for Dean or Carter to pummel his ass, although the thought was mildly amusing. _"If he ever hurts you..."_ Carter's words hovered over me like a big gray cloud.

So it was just me and my shabby, fake Christmas tree. I decorated it with all of the ornaments I'd saved from my childhood, which represented some of my happiest moments with my parents before everything went to hell. The little tree sat atop my end table in front of the window, lit with a warm, artificial glow that gave me an odd sort of comfort. _My first Thanksgiving without Mom._ I tapped at one of the round ornaments, spun it with my fingertips. I finished my Thanksgiving microwave meal and then snuggled up on the couch to open my laptop, letting my novel engulf me in its therapeutic world.

By the weekend, I'd been very aware of my nearly empty bank account, cringing when I checked my balance. The days of work I'd missed after my mother's death had finally caught up with me, the bereavement pay only covering some of the time I'd missed. Rent was due the first of December and I also owed the second half of my tuition for January classes. Reality flooded me, rushing over my hopes with a strong surge. There was no way school was happening next semester. Not if I expected to keep a roof over my head and food on the table for the next month.

When Monday's class rolled around, the realization struck that I would only see Ryan two more times before he'd be officially out of my life. The thought was depressing. I desperately needed to go out and have some fun. After the week I'd spent hibernating and last Monday's run-in with Ryan and Alisha at the pool, I was craving it hardcore. _I'll have to talk to Carter about that at lunch._

At least the confirmation that Ryan was a total lying dick helped propel me to move forward and leave him behind. Missing him wasn't an option anymore, no matter how much I pined for his arms, his scent, or the great conversations and laughs we'd shared. How could I have been so wrong about him? My instincts were usually dead on. If there was anything I'd picked up from raising myself from a very young age, it was an instinctual radar for people who were out to hurt me or who were inherently no good.

I sighed and reached into my book bag to pull out the folder containing the paper Ryan returned to me last week. I had never looked at it, didn't even bother checking my grade. I opened up the folder as his smooth, passionate voice filled the classroom, and a quiet gasp escaped my lips when I read his notation. He'd given me an "A," and next to it, he'd written:

Submit this to the literary magazine that accepted your other work for publication. They'll love this one, too. It's transcendent and nothing short of phenomenal.

Your biggest fan,

Ryan

I lifted my chin to watch him speak, my heart sinking a little deeper into my gut. Why did he have to be sweet and disloyal, all wrapped up into one big frustrating dichotomy? The day he'd given this paper back to me was the same day he'd given me the cold shoulder at the pool. I didn't get it.

Class ended and I booked it to the door, slipping out into the hallway to meet Carter.

"Why hello there, love. Still avoiding him?" He took my arm in his, exchanging a quick nod with Ryan through the doorway.

"Will you stop that? You can't be Team Ryan now. It's wrong."

"I can be on whatever team I want, thank you very much. Since you never told me specifics about what he did to make you kick him to the curb in the first place, and because you won't talk to me about what happened with those girls at the club that night, I reserve the right to be unbiased until further notice."

"Fine." We rounded the corner to head into the lunchroom. "It turns out you were right about him. He's no good."

"Define 'no good.'"

"I was no different than the other students he messed around with. He admitted to me that he told them all the same thing, that he wouldn't pursue them unless they dropped his class."

"But you _were_ different, Kate. He told you this and you're punishing him still. Keeping him at a distance. What you do best."

"Different? How? And just because he told me I was, what, I'm supposed to buy it? You stormed out on me when I decided to give him a chance, remember? I don't need all this drama, Carter. That's why I keep shit like this at a distance."

Carter stepped around me in the lunch line, intent on picking up the greasiest slice of pizza he could get his hands on, while I stood still in disbelief that he was still siding with Ryan.

"Kate, it pains me to say this because I'm hopelessly in love with you and all—but it has to be said. The guy is crazy about you. And...he's not half bad. _You_ were right for having faith in him. I was the one who judged him according to nothing but rumors. But you shut him down the minute you had reason to doubt."

Steam must have been coming out of my ears at that point, because I could feel my insides ready to explode. I shoved a slice of pizza on my tray and nudged him forward with my hip. "This is all beside the point, anyway." I huffed and handed the cashier the money, watching my last few dollars pass from my hand to hers with unease. "I didn't tell you that I ran into him at the pool last week. With Alisha. She was meeting him."

"What?" His eyes popped out of his head.

"Yeah. Exactly," I gave him my very best I-told-you-so look. "I'm talking the _day_ after he got back from Portland, the day after I broke up with him. Apparently she works here, too, which I somehow missed..."

"There must be some explanation," Carter shook his head adamantly, lifting his tray to stroll toward our favorite table. "He wouldn't do that to you. I talked to him over the weekend and he told me all about..." His eyes became distant as he stumbled off into thought.

"All about what? You _talked_ to him this weekend?"

"Yeah, well, he's just been asking about you, that's all. He's concerned about you...knew last week was your first Thanksgiving without your mom. When I told him you chose to stay home by yourself he sounded crushed."

"You told him _what_?" My voice dropped to a low, deadly tone. Oh, yeah. The steam was there. And it was searing my ears off.

"Chill, Kate. I spent a lot of time with the dude over those few weeks, you know. Just trying to stay on friendly terms with him."

"Screw friendly, Carter! Whatever. He wanted nothing to do with me last week when I ran into him. So this discussion is over." I shot up from my seat and dumped my full tray of food. "I'll see you later." Making my way to my next class early so I could sit and get some writing done, I spotted Ryan eating alone outside in the cold. He froze mid-bite when he noticed me passing by.

"Kate," his voice was barely a whisper. He slowly stood from the picnic table, his knees half bent in uncertainty. I breezed right past him and didn't bother glancing over my shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said, right before I dashed through the doors of the science building.

_Sorry._ I was, too. For ever letting my guard down.

11. Recess

Mrs. Meyer's writing workshop was great for getting my mind off of rent, the tuition money I didn't have for spring classes, and my traitorous best friend. I felt bad for storming out on Carter at lunch earlier, but I couldn't grasp his reasoning, no matter how well he got to know Ryan. It just didn't make any sense. I wouldn't deny I had trust issues—clearly, I had a whole shitload of them. I knew I was damaged goods.

But regardless of what my motives were or what factors contributed to my chaos, nothing changed the fact that I worked hard for that orderly mess. I fought tooth and nail to create a comfortable cocoon for myself and I'd be damned if I was going to let some young, hotshot prick come along and screw it up for me.

Scratch that.

An incredibly sexy prick who was an amazing lover, who turned out to have a great sense of humor, and who cherished good writing and music like it was air to breathe.

Bloody hell.

The sound of Mrs. Meyer stressing the need for proper pacing in a short story reeled me back into the present. And Carter kept bumping my elbow every time I started to scribble in my notebook, no doubt acting like a child to pay me back for my behavior earlier.

"Excuse me, Kate?" Mrs. Meyer moved to the front of my desk and gave me some handouts. "I didn't get a chance to copy these earlier. Would you mind running around the corner to make six of each so everyone has one to take home tonight?"

"Sure, no problem." I stood and clunked Carter on the back of the head with my pencil, then stuck it into my hair as I brushed past him and out the door.

I ducked into the empty administrative lounge area around the corner, flipping on the light. It turned on with a soft flicker, a low hum filling the room from the copy and vending machines. _Kind of creepy in here at night._

Separating the handouts into piles, I began feeding the first page into the copy machine, jumping when I felt the door swing open behind me. It sent a swift breeze up my back and neck, causing goose bumps to spring up over my arms.

"Kate?"

I shuddered from the cold air that blew in through the door and swung around, red swarming my cheeks when Ryan stepped in. He shut the door behind him. The low hum of the machines stretched between us, closing the short distance with a pulsating energy.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I have twenty more minutes until my last class. I teach one at night, remember? I wanted to grab a soda before." A small grin twisted his lips and he brushed a hand over his jaw, letting himself fall backward to lean on the door. Oh dear God. That stubble. Those eyes.

"I know you teach a night class. I mean what are you doing _here_." I leaned on the copy machine, gripping it for dear life. "A soda? Are you stalking me now?"

"You didn't give me a chance to talk to you today at lunch, you just walked right by."

"You didn't give me a chance to talk to you at the pool last week."

"Well you cut me off at your place last Sunday without letting me speak my piece. You want to keep rattling off our track records for dodging one another? Because I've got all night, baby." His eyebrows raised, he crossed his arms and stared me down with eyes that were warm pools of melting, caramel fire. Why, why, why, did his honey-brown hair have to sit so divinely disheveled?

Shit, Kate. Pull it together.

"You only have twenty minutes."

"I can cover a lot of ground in twenty minutes." His lips twitched into a devilish curl, and I wanted to rush forward and smack that smug look right off his face. Then jump his bones. Not necessarily in that order.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Ryan. I'm busy, if you don't mind. I have to get back to my workshop." I let out a deep, sharp breath and twisted around to feed the machine again, smashing buttons and doing God knows what. I was all flustered and shaky, unable to think straight. My stomach clenched and I lifted my chin when I heard the lock on the door click.

I spun back around to deal with whatever ammunition he was ready to throw at me.

Bring it, Mr. Campbell.

Our eyes locked and something passed between us, a palpable electric current. That same current that raced around us the first night I'd gone out with him, the one that got me into trouble.

"Ryan, unlock the damn door and get out." I crossed my arms and cocked a brow, tilting my head to the side. "Fine, you want to speak your piece? I'd love to hear you talk your way out of the fact that you've been cheating on Alisha with me. Or how you managed to get back with her less than twenty-four hours after leaving my house that Sunday morning. Please, be my guest. I'm all ears."

"No, we're going to have this out right now," he stationed himself against the door. "First off, I'm not _with_ Alisha. And I sure as hell haven't been with her since I've been with you." He pushed himself off the door, muscles tensing. "And second, I didn't get back with her at all, let alone twenty-four hours after I left your place. She showed up at the damn pool unannounced. She knows I swim there Monday nights and she works in administration now. She's been calling me, trying to get back together. That's it, nothing more."

"You told her you'd let me down easy." My shoulders stiffened and my jaw clenched, my iron grip nearly crumbling the edges of the copy machine.

"She was referring to what I said back when I had to convince her I wasn't seeing you." When he pulled at his tie, I knew he was livid. And his anger should've made me angrier, considering I was the one who had the right to be angry, but it only made me go crimson. It was hot. Smoking hot. I resented it with a passion.

"You're not with her."

"I'm not with her!" He threw his hands up in exasperation. "In case you haven't noticed, Kate, I want _you_. But you're stubborn, manipulative, brazen, and you drive me fucking mad sometimes!"

"Oh yeah?" My hands flew to my hips. "Well news flash, Mr. Campbell. You're moody, have an ego the size of a continent, and you can sure dish it out but you can't take it!"

"You know what I think?" He jolted forward, in front of me in a flash. "I think you pout that sexy pout, kick and stomp and throw your feistiness around to push people away, but deep down you _like_ being chased." His breath was hot on my face now, the veins in his neck bulging. "I think you let me pursue you because you were positive I'd break your heart and treat you like shit, and when you found out I wouldn't, you didn't know what to do, so you broke it yourself and made _me_ the fucking bad guy!"

"Ha!" I was clawing at my shirt collar now, too, the heat radiating off my cheeks enough to set off the fire alarm. The papers spewing from the copy machine were piling up on the floor. "You know what I think? You finally found someone who could give you something _real_ , but you only got involved because you knew it would come to this. Knew it would give you an excuse to just run back to your old ways. No commitment, nothing real—just the way you like it! And me telling you I wanted something casual gave you an even brighter green light."

"If I _didn't_ want something real, would I be standing here right now?" He pressed his lips together, eyes wide, one eyelid twitching. _Oh my. I'm not the only one on the warpath._

"Admit it, Ryan. You chose me for the same reason I chose you. You knew you could easily destroy our relationship, or whatever it was. You keep settling for less than you deserve so that you can go on justifying your warped sense of self-worth."

"You want to talk settling for less, Kate?" His voice dropped an octave, low and husky. He was towering over me now, hovering over my frame with intense fever. "I infuriate you because you wanted one thing from me and you got another. You think you deserve so little that your self-deprecating radar zoned in on me and lit up like a damn firework, hoping I'd be the one to confirm those standards. Well, guess what? I have zero desire to cheat on you, so get used to it right now."

He reached forward and gripped my shoulders, yanking me against him, bringing his chest flush with mine, his erection at my hip. "You deserve more than you'll ever realize. More than any man can ever give you. But I'd bend over fucking backwards to try and give you the world if you'd only let me." Tilting his head, he traced my bottom lip with his tongue, letting a jagged breath flutter over my lips.

"We'll ruin each other," my voice trembled, lips parting to give his tongue access.

"We're more dangerous to ourselves than we are to each other," his eyelashes danced over my cheek, his jaw following the trail.

"Ryan?" I peered up at him, my breath hitching and steely resolve caving against the tip of his tongue. "Let's keep one another from ruining this."

"For the love of all that is holy, woman." His fingers weaved through my hair and he tilted my head back by the roots, eyes roaming down my body with heady hunger.

" _Mmhhmm_." I closed my eyes as he continued to tug my hair, letting my chin float upward.

"You're stunning when you're angry."

The next few seconds were a blur. He was pushing me up against the machine and then onto the couch, then back to the machine again. His tongue tangled with mine, hands moving everywhere. My hands clamped around his neck and a strangled groan clawed its way from deep in his throat. Thrusting his hips into me, he lifted my leg up and ripped my panties from beneath my skirt.

"I want inside of you. Deep." His warm mouth slid over the dip in my shirt and the swell of my breasts as he raised my skirt up and set me on top of the machine. In two swift movements, he was between my legs and we removed his suit jacket, pulling at one sleeve, then the other. His thumbs skimmed under my shirt's hem and teased the skin of my hips, eyes blazing when he saw the soft shudder roll over my body. My fingers gripped and slid over his tie from bottom to top, yanking hard to pull him closer when they reached the top knot. "I'm going to make you come hard, baby. Let me feel it, hear it. I want all of it." He sucked my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling wildly at the buttons of my blouse before unzipping his fly.

The second he slipped inside of me, all I'd doubted, questioned, or feared evaporated, leaving me with one single, definite truth—I'd fallen in love with him in an all-consuming blaze that would blind me if I wasn't careful. We fit together like poorly cut puzzle pieces, but when the edges joined and were positioned just right, our scattered images came together to create a solid, deliberate piece of art, completely crystal clear and in focus.

I was a goner.

Our lovemaking transitioned from angry and aggressive to passionate and painfully slow, Ryan's touch turning from desperate to nurturing, eyes ablaze with adoration as he carried me over to the wall, driving me against it in even, focused thrusts. "I missed you so damn much," he growled against my neck, showering my collarbone with hot, scorching kisses. He kept tasting me, teasing my lips and skin between each push. Exploding around him, my shoulders sagged and my feet were desperate to find the floor to stand, but he wouldn't let me move. He pinned me harder to the wall and forced me tighter against his chest as my body convulsed, riding out the aftershocks of my orgasm with me. "Let me feel it, baby, let me feel it." He waited until I cried out into the crook of his neck, then emptied into me, letting our pace slow from the release.

We muffled each other's cries and he shifted my palm away from his lips to regain control of his breathing. Affectionate, uncertain eyes found mine. "I love you. I'm in love with you, Kate." The words rolled off his tongue in between shaky breaths. His vulnerability brought down my walls with it. "Be mine, please. Don't run from me again."

"I love you, too," I panted underneath his palm, which was still lightly cupped over my mouth. "I'm yours." His lips turned up and he relaxed, unleashing that deadly, lopsided grin before leaning in to sear me with one last electrifying kiss.

Damn. _So much for casual._

We rushed to smooth out our clothes, Ryan hurriedly tucking his shirt in. "Damn, now I'm going to be late."

"Well maybe if someone would've kept his hands to himself..." I fumbled with my buttons and threw my hair back up into a bun, sliding my pencil through it.

"Hey, this is all your fault. All I wanted was a soda." He bent down to shuffle all of the loose papers into a pile.

"Uh-huh. _Soda._ You knew I had this workshop tonight and you were hanging around waiting to corner me."

"I believe that's called paranoia, Ms. Parker." He reached up with a crooked smirk and tugged my hand, folding me in his arms for an embrace. "You'd be wise not to wear a skirt on campus anymore if you want to avoid me mauling you again."

Why the hell would I avoid that?

"I'll see you later, Mr. Campbell." I gave him a sly grin and leaned in as if I was about to kiss him, lingering for a second at the sight of his parted lips. They were beckoning me to tease them with my tongue. He peered down at my mouth from heavy lashes, expectant smirk still intact. Before he could taste me, I slipped around him and unlocked the door without a backward glance.

"Ohhh, no recess for _you_ tomorrow, Ms. Parker." His amused voice echoed from the lounge before the door slammed in his face.

Mrs. Meyer looked surprised to see me when I returned to the workshop. "Did you get lost, Kate? Class is nearly over." I handed her the papers, hoping they weren't in too much of a disarray.

"You look flushed," Carter whispered under his breath, eyeing my messy hair when I took my seat. "Is...everything okay?"

"Yup." I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"The machine just got jammed."

12. New Year Resolutions

Thank the sweet Lord, finals were over. Ryan and I were inseparable off campus, after deciding to keep our distance from one another at school as best as we could during those final days of the semester. We'd slipped a few times, meeting at night in the lounge or the pool locker room, ravaging one another despite our best efforts not to. I visited throughout the week when I got off work, even though I didn't have class.

Ryan had practically moved in to my little apartment, going wherever I went with Carter, Dean, and Crystal, blending in nicely with our little group. He'd earned the official stamp of approval from Carter and Dean after landing them an opening gig for their band, The Hellions, at Easy Street Records on New Year's Eve. He knew the assistant manager pretty well and saw a chance to bank gold when they found themselves short an act at the last minute.

"All hail Mr. Campbell," Dean and Carter bellowed, following Ryan around as they bowed behind him, while Crystal pretended not to know them.

"Please, peasants. That'll be all." Ryan laughed, relieving them from their worship. He towed me next to him as we all made our way to the Anacortes ferry landing, turning to give me the most drop dead, heart stopping, sexy smile, pulling my hand to his mouth to brush my knuckles with his lips.

"I'll have to warm you up later," he purred in my ear. I reached into my coat pocket and dug out my gloves, waving them smugly in his face. "Ah, touché," was all he could reply. I loved one up-ing him whenever the opportunity presented itself. It was a constant struggle for power between the two of us: me, with an independent streak the size of Texas, and him, with a penchant for getting his way.

Everything felt lighter since school was over and it was written all over us. We didn't have to sneak around campus anymore, or keep secrets from Alisha, and the overall stress of the semester had lifted. Alisha seemed to finally get the hint that Ryan wasn't interested anymore, and Carter was going out of his way to give me and Ryan our space.

We hopped aboard the ferry to spend a cozy Christmas weekend on Orcas Island, huddling up to sip hot chocolate inside.

"Come on, babe." Ryan pulled me out the doors and into the frigid air. I squealed when the wind hit my cheeks, tightening my jacket to seal in the warmth.

"You're crazy, it's freezing!"

"Oh, quit whining. Look how gorgeous it is out." He smiled and bundled me in front of him, sipping his hot chocolate over my shoulder. He couldn't be more right. It was a beautiful winter day, just the way I liked it. The gray, overcast sky amidst the striking emerald and brown rugged terrain made me appreciate my life in the Pacific Northwest. Being able to head to the San Juan Islands, my favorite place in the whole world, for the weekend was a huge luxury. And something about visiting in the winter was magical. Freezing, but magical.

I leaned my head back on his shoulder as we hung over the railing, watching the granite water churn and push its way past us, the invigorating smell of the salt and pine lighting up our senses. The smell of firewood intertwined with the pine and saltwater further enhanced the aroma. Living in this region of the world was good enough. But spending a weekend with this man wrapped around me and some of the best friends I could ever ask for along for the ride, too...well, things couldn't get much better than that.

"So I've been thinking," I said, taking a deep breath. "I don't want you paying my rent anymore." He'd insisted on paying since he'd been staying with me, and the boxing matches it ignited each time I refused to accept were getting bloodier. A part of me liked that he wanted to help, finding it endearing that he saw it as "our" place even though he still had his own apartment. The other part of me objected because it started out mine, was still mine, and I preferred it that way. Still, I couldn't bring myself to tell him.

"Kate, I thought we—"

"Ah, ah, just let me finish. It makes me feel like you're my roommate or something. I don't like it. I've had time to get back on my feet since my mom's funeral was taken care of, and I decided to drop my spring classes, so I don't have to pay for school anymore. I can handle rent."

Ryan swung me around. "You what?" His eyes darted to the mountains and then back to me. "You dropped school? Why didn't you tell me this? How did I not hear it from Carter or Dean yet?"

"Because I knew this is how you'd react. I've been thinking, Ry. I don't need a college degree to be a writer...I've already been accepted for publication and that one agent is interested in my novel query..."

"But that's not the point, Kate. You go to school to improve your craft, because you enjoy it. It makes you happy. All the more reason I'm going to keep paying for rent."

Taking a deep breath, I held it for a second and worked to train my eyes on his, speaking with the sternest tone possible. "This is the first time in a long time I haven't had my electricity turned off or eviction notices posted to my door, Ryan. I need to do this without your help, can you understand that? Granted, to manage, I need to give up school for a bit. But it's worth knowing I can do this."

"Um, well, about that..."

The door flew open behind us, and Dean barreled out to meet us. "She's not giving you the 'I don't want your money' speech again, is she?" He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and let out a loud, exaggerated shiver. Crystal and Carter trailed behind him. "She's a stubborn one, this chick."

"Yeah, man," Carter smiled, "don't let her fool you. She's a real gold digger." Crystal remained quiet at Dean's side. She'd warmed to me since I'd been seeing Ryan, but for the most part, we kept our distance from one another.

"Crystal, toss them over the railing for me, will ya?" I tried to include her anyway, wanting the weekend to be fun for everyone. She returned my comment with a shy smile, the wind sending her short blonde hair blowing around her cheeks.

"Tempting, but then we'd have no entertainment," she winked. Ah, hopefully the start of a civil friendship.

The ferry landing came into view and we trekked up the steep hill toward the Orcas Island Hotel, a historic, cozy place that was around since the early 1900s, complete with Victorian antique furnishings and rustic, whimsical accents with harbor-influenced touches. The mixture of pumpkin spice coffee, fresh prawns, and cream cheese pastries smelled divine as we made the ascent toward the porch, the cozy English gardens welcoming us with cold winter dew. In the spring and summer, they were thriving with rabbits. The word 'breathtaking' did the view from the porch no justice. It was simply stunning, just as charming as its island counterparts. With a wide expanse of blue harbor and the terrestrial peaks of the surrounding islands in plain sight, an artist's canvas would revel in a muse this glorious.

The hotel's charm did nothing to hide the painful ascent upstairs, although we all got a good chuckle out of it, toting our heavy suitcases up each excruciating flight.

"No elevator equals one cranky Dean," I whispered under my breath, working to restrain my laugh as he forged ahead in front of me, mumbling every few seconds with dramatic yelps and whistles.

After an early breakfast the next morning, the five of us rented an SUV and drove up to Mount Constitution. Ryan drove with me in the passenger seat, and Crystal and Dean in the back on either side of Carter, trying to calm him down. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Damn it, Carter, don't look out the window, just look straight ahead," I turned to face the backseat, taking his hand in mine. Dean immediately reached for his cell phone to take a picture of our hand holding. "Don't you dare," I shot him my most deadly warning, my amused smile betraying my stern orders.

"Hey," Dean raised his hands defensively, "I knew we should have given him something. A shot of whiskey. A Valium, for God's sake," he slipped the phone back in his pocket. "Carter and heights don't mix."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," Carter's eyes flew wide, fixated on the dash window and the steep incline ahead of us. He was cutting off my circulation.

Ryan cleared his throat, shooting me a look through the rearview mirror. "Distract him," he mouthed, holding his lips tight to hide his smile. I hung my head with a sigh. _Think Kate, think._

As if reading my mind, Crystal spoke up. "Talk British. That always seems to work, right?" she leaned over Carter to question Dean.

"Ah yes, my dear. Bloody brilliant, indeed!" Dean began sipping his imaginary tea, crossing his legs matter-of-factly as he launched us all into a full-blown Cockney conversation. Before I could blink, Carter joined in. He was still sweating profusely, but hey, progress was progress. I'd have to thank Crystal for that one later...

The Gods were on our side that day, allowing us to make it to the top of the mountain and back down in one piece, without the need for Carter to have any paper-bag-breathing episodes. We had lunch in front of Cascade Lake at Moran State Park, then stocked up on water for our hike. By sun down, I was spent, ready to go to bed and sure the day couldn't have been any better.

I was wrong.

Ryan strolled out of the bathroom after taking a hot shower, towel slung low on his waist. Lean. Cut. Strong. A swimmer's body. I lifted myself off the bed and made my way to my suitcase, fidgeting with the zipper. No matter how many times I caught a glimpse of him or how familiar his body had become to me over the past few months, I still managed to lose my cool when he was half naked. _I blame it on the damn tattoos_.

"See something you like, Ms. Parker?" he casually draped his arms across his chest, leaning on the dresser next to me, flashing a cunning smile. _Okay, not just the tattoos._

"Mr. Campbell. So confident in your ability to make me squirm." I realized I'd been fumbling with my socks. The pairs were mismatched and heaped into a little pile in my suitcase. _How did that happen?_ I wondered. My hands seemed to have operated independently of my mind, which was trained on the black indelible ink etched across his chiseled figure.

"Too bad it doesn't work," I quipped, regaining my focus and reaching for my nightgown.

"Uh huh...you just keep telling yourself that," he squeezed my ass and retreated to the bathroom to brush his teeth. I managed to slip my shirt off and my nightgown over my head as I felt my cheeks flush. _Damn him and his uncanny ability to make me feel so flustered._ Gathering up some verbal ammunition, I charged towards the bathroom, then stepped in front of him ready to fire.

"Nuh-uh," he mumbled into a washcloth, wiping his mouth. Snatching me by the wrist, he pulled me out of the bathroom and over to his suitcase. "Pick your battles, baby. We have more important things to talk about."

Mouth ajar and steam still evident, I crossed my arms like a child and pouted. Curiosity got the best of me, though, and I eyed the suitcase as he unzipped it. He handed me a thick stack of white paper, bound at the corner.

"What's this?"

"My New Year's resolution."

"Oh?" We both sat down on the edge of the bed as I flipped through the first few pages. Landing on the title page, the words "a novel by Ryan Campbell" jumped out at me. "Ry...oh my..." I curled my legs up and pulled the manuscript closer, looking over it intently. "Is this new? When did you...how did I not know? This is great news!"

"Thanks," he scooted me closer to him, combed his fingers through my hair. "I started it when you enrolled in my class. After I read your first paper, actually. Told you it inspired me."

"Oh, I can't wait to read it, I'm so thrilled you've kept writing since..." I lifted my gaze to meet his, knowing he didn't like talking about her. Jamie, the girl who'd broken his heart, the one who sent him into a downward spiral that led to his publishing deal's demise. He hadn't told me much, only that she was the trigger for giving up and losing what he loved. In truth, I didn't want to know every detail. Then I'd have to start reeling off info about my exes. And that was landmine territory. "So, tell me! What are your plans? What do you mean this is your resolution?"

"I'm going to submit it, get back on the horse again. It's time."

"Ryan..." I took his face in my hands, planted a kiss on his lips. "Good for you. I think that's awesome, and I just know it's going to be picked up."

"You haven't even read it," he chuckled, prying it from my hands.

"Well if you'll just _let_ me," I pawed at it, reaching across him to snatch it from his grasp.

"Not now. Because it's time for _your_ New Year's resolution," he stuffed the manuscript back in his suitcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper, holding it close to his chest. "You have to promise me you won't be difficult. Or scream at me. Or run away with Carter and break my heart." His eyebrows raised and he bit his bottom lip. _Damn him and that sexy lip._

"Fine. Come on, let's see it," I waved, waiting. "Aren't I supposed to make my own resolution, by the way?"

"I said no being difficult," he hugged the paper closer to his chest. "And you can't argue with me about this because I did it before I even knew you dropped your spring classes."

"Okay..."

He handed over the paper. "I made the arrangements with your landlord a few days ago. So you can take some time off to finish the novel, or focus on school for a while. Whatever you want."

The single piece of white paper glared back at me, with bold, black printed ink that read 'six months paid in full.' "This is a lease statement." I remained still as stone, but my heart was pounding through my chest. "You paid the remainder of my lease off," I said more to myself than to him. This was the kindest, most generous thing anyone had ever done for me. I glanced down at my toes, contemplating whether or not my tired feet could carry me downstairs, past the street, and onto the ferry. My reflexes, mind, and racing pulse all told me to bolt. He was so serious about me. _We_ were serious. This whole thing was turning into...something serious. My instinct brought them to a screeching halt. _Accept this. You have to accept this. He wants to do this for you._

"You could afford this?"

"Yes."

"You don't want me to be difficult."

"No."

"This is for real?" my voice squeaked. He nodded gently, waiting with a cautious smile. "How is this a resolution...I don't understand."

"By accepting this, you're making a resolution to take compliments. To accept gifts. To be doted upon, taken care of. Something you're not very accustomed to, in my humble opinion."

Now I understood.

Putting the edge of the paper to my lips, I fixed my gaze on the dresser in front of me, catching my reflection in the vanity mirror. An uncertain girl. Cautious. Hesitant. Safe and cozy in her stone tower, tucked high and far away from the dangerous world down below.

"Thank you, Ryan."I turned to face him. "This is singlehandedly the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me and I gladly accept the gift."

Ryan beamed, pretending to keel over, gripping his chest like he was having a heart attack.

"Yeah, go on and enjoy it while it lasts, Mr. Campbell. No one sticks to resolutions, you know. I'm accepting this _now_ , but I'm not going down without a fight." I nudged him playfully, folding the paper in between my fingers.

"Kate Parker, I'm at an utter loss for words," he pulled me onto his lap, tickling me because he knew I hated it with a passion. Anything to get me smiling and riled up. My crippling laughter only encouraged him more.

"Ryan!" I squealed, wrestling with his arms before wrapping my legs around him, forcing him onto his back. Placing one knee at each of his hips, I ran my hands up and down his bare chest, feeling him pulse with desire through the towel beneath me. He exhaled when I reached his navel, a low growl rumbling through him. I barely had time to let my gaze wander up and down his body, to take in his firm, beautiful form. He grasped me by the hips and flipped me over, pinning me underneath him in a split second.

"I've had enough of your defiant demeanor for one day, Ms. Parker," he brushed his hand down my side to ride my satin gown up my leg, cocking a brow when he caught sight of the jeans that I hadn't removed before my attempted bathroom attack. "I told you I'd warm you up tonight and I intend to do it my way, whether you like it or not." He lowered himself down my body and popped the button on my jeans with his teeth. "Now hold still and try your damndest to let me lead, will you?"

My fingers clawed the sheets when he moved to pull down the zipper next, and I shut my eyes, unable to bite my tongue. "Only if I get extra credit, Mr. Campbell."

13. Fire Drill

"Merry Christmas, sleepy head," Ryan's voice hummed in my ear, stirring me from the deepest sleep I'd had in a long time. Our legs entangled, we held each other under the sailboat-pattern quilt, thoroughly relaxed and snug. The windows were frosted up, but thankfully there was no snow on the ground.

"Mmmm, do we have to get up?" I stretched and sprawled across him, squeezing his torso tight, running my fingers down, down, lower...

He growled. "Yes, we do," he snatched my hand underneath the blanket. "As much as I'd love to bury myself in you and break the shit out of this headboard, I have one more Christmas present for you," he wiggled out of my grasp and kissed my forehead, reaching to the bedside table drawer. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and eyed the bathroom, desperately wanting to brush my teeth if there was going to be headboard-shattering sex taking place. But the sight of Ryan's muscular back contracting as he reached for the drawer quickly averted my focus away from the bathroom. "Here we go," he returned with a black, velvet jewelry box and sat up. The box lingered in his hand a moment. He cleared his throat. "Well, are you going to open it?"

"Of course," I reached for it, sitting up.

"Breathe, Kate. I'm not getting down on one knee yet."

_Yet?_ I smiled at him and popped open the box, looking down to find a silver locket in the shape of a globe, the lines of the continents clearly engraved in fine detail. "Ryan, it's gorgeous..."

"You like it?" his voice perked up and he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. Our eyes met and I froze. His boyish eagerness and bright eyes reeled me in and I found myself struck by his sudden vulnerability, in awe at his bravery to put himself out on a limb for me, even though he'd been hurt himself before. Here was the first man I'd ever genuinely loved, and I'd returned most of his gestures with nothing but armor and football field-length force fields, ready to deflect any gesture that attacked my comfort zone. I wasn't playing fair; I needed to give a little. Maybe I _could_ start looking at my apartment as our place, like he saw it. Baby steps.

"Like it?" I held it up, watching it spin in front of me, the morning light bouncing off the shiny silver globe. "I _love_ it, Ry."

His shoulders visibly relaxed and sleepy smile widened. "Well I know how you feel about the atlas...how your mom's dreams to travel meant so much to you, and how you share the same wanderlust. So..."

"It's perfect. Absolutely perfect." Peering down at the vintage rabbit pendant I already wore, I reached for the clasp and slipped the new globe locket onto the chain.

"The silver doesn't exactly match the color of your other pendant..."

"I don't care. I want to wear them together," I grasped the globe tight between my fingers, raising my head to meet his gaze. "One will remind me of where I came from and the other of where I'm going."

"Where are you going?" Ryan reached out and brushed my hair over my shoulder.

"Wherever the atlas takes me. I'd like to go overseas to write, see Europe for a while."

"I couldn't think of a better way to find inspiration. We'll have to work on getting you there." Playing with the end of my tendrils between his fingertips, his gaze turned warmer, smoldering. "The world is at your feet."

A magical charge filled the quaint bedroom, sparking an irresistible, gravitational pull between the two of us. Ryan's hands suddenly knotted my hair and he pulled me on his lap, his tongue wound with mine. Hard and hot beneath me, he hitched my nightgown up my thighs and then cradled my back and neck, gazing up at me as he positioned himself between my legs.

"That what you want?" He pressed his erection against me, lips aligned with mine.

"Hmmm. Headboard breaking it is then," I whispered.

"Damn straight."

The knock on the door sent me flying off his lap. Dean made his grand entrance, looking like he came straight from a Boy Scouts meeting. Ryan and I quickly covered ourselves with the quilt, but Dean was not the least bit deterred.

"My dear Kate, I have your morning report. I've just spoken to the naturalist downstairs and have been informed that they've been spotted off San Juan and we can catch the 8:10 ferry if you hustle." He adjusted the canteen at his hip and the binoculars around his neck. "Chop, chop!" he clapped his hands together, spinning on his heel to make his dramatic exit.

" _They've_ been spotted? Was he just wearing Birkenstock sandals—with socks?" Ryan inquired with equal amusement and amazement. I dropped my head in my hands, grinning and shaking my head. "He does know it's December...cold weather...right?"

"J Pod. The whales. Oh, Ry," I patted his shoulder, wiggling out of bed, "with Dean, it's never a dull moment."

For the next few hours, it was my turn to give Ryan a Christmas present. He'd grown up in the Northwest but never visited the San Juan Islands to whale watch. It was like living in Orlando and never going to Disney World; wrong. He'd seen them plenty of times before in the Sound and off Elliot Bay, but I insisted he see them in San Juan. Something about it was pure magic. And catching them this time of year when the Southern Resident pods were usually elsewhere made it even more special.

We all hopped the ferry from Orcas Island to San Juan Island and watched the whales from Lime Kiln Point. The rich, mahogany madrona trees curled from the rocky shoreline around us, wrapping us in overcast sunlight, their peeling bark exposing their exotic beauty. Dean and Crystal shared the binoculars while Carter took pictures, Ryan hugging me from behind as we admired the majestic black and white giants as they sailed through the waters before us. Every now and then one would breach and another would follow suit, faint bursts of mist breaking the surface as they ascended to breathe.

"This is the best Christmas I've ever had," I whispered, mesmerized by the orcas charging forward in graceful unison, toward their next destination. Wanderers. Never idle for long, always foraging. _What that must be like._

After warm s'mores and the exchange of a few more gifts, we packed up and left our picture perfect Christmas seaside retreat, checked out of the hotel and caught the ferry back to Anacortes before sundown. The ferry carried us back to the Anacortes dock and the peaceful weekend floated away from us, a heavenly dream slipping off into another realm where it'd be stored to feed our memories in the years to come.

* * *

Reality was in full swing again; Dean and Carter's New Year's Easy Street Records gig was a huge success, Ryan returned to classes the second week of January, and my time card was full and healthy. Even with Ryan's generous Christmas gift, I was determined to work as many shifts as possible to put some money away. It was an opportunity to get ahead, to save for tuition to return to school full time in the fall. In the meantime, I buckled down and continued work on the novel.

Rushing to grab my jacket, Ryan ushered me out the front door. "We're going to be late, baby, let's get a move on," he locked the door and tossed me a scarf. Thanks to my preoccupation with my latest music muse, we were running late to the writing conference he'd signed us up for. He managed to get us on the attendee list at the last minute, and he was adamant we get there on time.

"You know me when I listen to my music. There's no prying me away."

"Yes, Ms. Parker," he kissed my cheek and walked me to the elevator, "I've become well aware of the way your musical hypnosis distracts you."

Unlike the Portland conference Ryan attended in the fall, this one was conveniently located in downtown Seattle. We checked into the posh hotel, freshening up before heading down to the buzzing lobby. Dinner was a formal affair, designed to serve as a mingling session before the conference the following morning. Ryan led me across the dance floor, stunning in his tux, Édith Piaf's "Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien" crooning in the background. He definitely looked the part of a professor tonight.

"Mr. Campbell, I wonder what your sophisticated colleagues would have to say about your Poe-inspired raven tattoos under that fine dinner jacket of yours," I shot him a sly smile and leaned in to rest my cheek to his.

"Oh, we're all writers here, darling," he joked in a stuffy, dignified tone, "we all have a little edge, and we're all mad, anyway, didn't you know?"

"As mad as the poem itself, I'm sure," I laughed, my smile fading when I caught a glimpse of a petite brunette over Ryan's shoulder, standing stoically against the wall, sipping champagne as she mingled. Her eyes were trained on mine, speaking under her breath to the woman next to her. Her eyes said trouble, body language screaming restraint. "Were you always a fan of Poe?" I reeled myself back to our conversation, pulling my gaze from hers.

"I wouldn't say a fan, no. The tattoos were a stupid decision," he cleared his throat, hand trailing down my bare back, pulling me closer when he reached my hip.

" _Mmmm_ I love this dress on you, baby," he leaned in to whisper. I refused to be distracted by his charming flattery. I wanted to know what was so stupid about my favorite tattoos.

"Really? Why'd you get them?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. Would you like some champagne?" He stopped moving to the music, restless eyes searching the room.

"Sure, okay." Taking his hand, I walked to the bar with him. He requested two glasses, stopping cold when the woman I'd noticed earlier approached us, requesting a drink of her own.

"Ryan," her clip tone greeted him. She immediately sized me up from head to toe, her frigid smile telling me all I needed to know. She was another ripple in his history, clearly unnerved that he'd paid her no attention since our arrival on the dance floor.

"Felicia. Good to see you." Ryan took our drinks from the waiter, his tone equally short.

"Is it?" she turned her eyes from him to me, holding out a stiff hand, her head held high. "I'm an old friend of Ryan's. And you are?"

"This is Kate, my fiancée ," Ryan answered before I could respond. I choked on my champagne but managed to quickly reign in my look of surprise. Felicia's eyes widened and she took a step back, her short brown bob haircut bouncing with her step.

"Well, isn't that...just fantastic," she craned her neck forward, searching for my hand. "May I see the ring?"

My eyes darted to Ryan and I stammered, seeking a lifeline. "I'm actually not—"

"She's not wearing it at the moment. Being sized at the jeweler's, you know."

"Oh? That's a shame. I bet it's lovely. Ryan has quite an eye for fine jewelry."

I took another gulp of champagne and pressed my lips together, waiting for Ryan to jump in again before I responded. When he didn't speak up, I leaped at the chance to fill the silence. "Yes, it's quite the sight..."

"Ryan," Felicia shifted her weight to her side, paying me no attention, "I'd love to hear Alisha's thoughts on your engagement. How is she these days?"

Ryan sighed, swallowing some champagne. "Alright, Felicia. I think you've made your point. My relationship is none of her business and certainly none of yours, so if you'll excuse us," he set his empty glass down and started to lead me away. A young, tall, built man with blonde hair and dimples deflected our exit, boxing me in closer to the awkward meeting. He looked to be in his early thirties, with perfect teeth and a polished style that reminded me of a news anchor.

"Ryan? Ryan Campbell, is that you?" he held out his hand with a wide smile. "Well, I'll be damned."

"Mark, how the hell are ya, man?" They shook hands and Ryan gave Felicia the cold shoulder. I stepped back to avoid being sandwiched between them.

"Best of luck with your engagement," Felicia's tone suddenly turned sweeter as she made eye contact with me one last time. "He's a real keeper." Turning on her heel, she was gone.

"And who is this looker you have with you?" Mark turned to me now, eyeing me up and down.

"Ah, she's with me," Ryan gripped me tight. "This is Kate. Kate, this is Mark Burgess. We went to UW together." He guided me forward by the small of my back.

"It's a pleasure," I extended my hand, forcing a smile. All I wanted was to get Ryan alone and ask him about Felicia. His knitted brow and tight smile told me he knew that was exactly what I wanted.

"Oh, the pleasure's all mine."

"Would you guys excuse me for a moment?" I let go of Ryan's hand and gave them a polite smile, beelining for the door. Ryan fiddled with his tie and moved to let me pass by, watching as I strolled across the ballroom , grabbing my handbag from the table before exiting.

I dashed into the ladies' room and splashed some cold water on my face, dabbing it with a towel before reaching for my compact. _Fiancée? What the hell was that all about?_ And how many more ex-girlfriend run-ins could I handle? Hell, some of them weren't even girlfriends. Just flings. I wasn't sure which was worse. _Maybe telling him about my long string of exes wouldn't be so terrible in comparison._

Straightening my dress, I ran a fresh coat of burgundy lipstick over my lips. A faint sniffling sound overpowered the rustling of my handbag as I dug around for my cell phone. Tiny sobs began to echo through the restroom, bouncing off the black marble floors. The stall door behind me creaked open and out stepped Felicia, eyes blotchy with traces of runny mascara and a red nose that needed powdering. Her eyes dropped to the floor as she made her way to the sink. I stopped searching for my cell phone and gathered my handbag, turning for the door.

"I owe you an apology for that out there," her voice stopped me. "I mean, I don't even know you. I'm not a bitch, you know. Not one of those girls."

My hands grasped tightly around my handbag, I remained in front of the door, my back to the crying woman.

"It's just...running into him like that...and you. Well, you're beautiful. And he's protective of you, it's so strange." She exhaled a slow, even breath and I waited, pivoting around to face her. "If you've ever had the unfortunate experience of dealing with unrequited love, then you'd know. I'm not sure there is anything worse than one-sided love." She leveled her eyes to the mirror, locking her gaze with mine. "Anyway, I'm sorry for my behavior. It's horribly embarrassing and I hope you'll forgive me."

Looking down, I reached in my bag and pulled out a tissue. "Here. Of course I forgive you. I know how awkward that was for me, and I can only imagine how this is for you. No hard feelings, really." What more could I say to this poor girl? _Sorry I'm dating—er, marrying the man you love? Who the hell are you, anyway?_ There was a part of me that ached for her, and another that burned with curiosity. What had Ryan done to leave her in this state? Had he run around on her with the busty, blonde students I'd had the privilege of meeting at the club that night? Was she another Alisha? A woman that Ryan couldn't commit to, or when he did, she couldn't trust him? My head started spinning, the thousands of possibilities swirling around with potential truth.

Without another word, she turned and reached for the door handle.

"Wait. Felicia?"

"Yes?"

I knew I'd regret it the moment I asked, but the temptation was too great. This would be my only chance to hear it directly from the woman's lips. "Who were you, to Ryan? Was he unfaithful to you?"

She sniffled and raised the tissue to her nose, kept her eyes on the door handle. "I'm not sure who I was to him, but he was my world. He has this way of making you feel like you're all he sees. That there's nothing else in the room more important than you." She lifted her her head. "And I was the one he cheated on Alisha with, so I'm no one to judge when it comes to fidelity."

"I see."

And that was it. She slipped out the door, leaving me with more questions than answers—the opposite of what I was aiming for.

My mood turned pensive, I returned to Ryan. He was still talking to Mark, watching me out of the corner of his eye as I approached them.

"So, Kate, Ryan here tells me you have a bestseller in the works."

"He's being kind," I forced a smile and Ryan locked my arm in his, smiling down on me with a glint in his eyes. His smile was forced, too, but there was genuine pride on his face, so I dragged myself into the conversation, focusing as best as I could on this Burgess guy. "But I'm happy with the direction it's headed and I hope to place it soon."

"Well, Ryan and I have been discussing that. I'd love to meet you for lunch and take a look at it. How does that sound?"

Words. No words. Ryan gently nudged me, nodding his head.

"That sounds...wonderful. Thanks for the offer, I'd love to sit down and talk."

"Excellent. Call me Monday morning and we'll do lunch," he handed me his card and patted Ryan on the shoulder. "It's time I start making my rounds. See you in the morning?"

"Sure thing, man. Good seeing you again." Ryan gave him a firm handshake. We stood there alone again, sounds of Frank Sinatra and glasses clinking surrounding us. "You ready?" he asked, rubbing his fingers around the base of his champagne glass, his eyes following the pattern.

"Yes."

He turned and led me across the room, eyes on the exit sign.

14. Teacher's Pet

Monday morning I sat with the phone in my lap, tapping it on my knee as I rehearsed what to say to Mark Burgess. _Be cool, Kate. Relax. This is only your shot at a possible publishing deal._ I swallowed, feeling the lump rise right back up in my throat. The rest of the weekend had been nerve-racking . The mood after the conference turned somber, the energy shifting after our run-in with Felicia. Ryan apologized the whole way home for introducing me as his fiancée, saying he wanted to make it clear he was in a committed relationship, to get Felicia off our backs. Not wanting to get caught up in his past, I dropped it and didn't bother mentioning my run-in with her again in the restroom. But not for his sake. For hers. She deserved to hang on to a shred of her dignity.

I managed to make the phone call and arranged to meet Mark at the Irish pub around the corner at 1:00, thankful Ryan was teaching class that afternoon so I'd have a few minutes to myself to prepare. To say I was feeling nervous was a massive understatement.

"You look fantastic, Kate. Great to see you again," Mark stood to pull out my chair, giving a gentlemanly bow as he kissed my hand. When he lifted his lips from my hand, he peered up at me with a charming, salesman smile, his twinkling blue eyes gleaming with delight. _He'd definitely make a killing on a car lot with that smile._

"So, I hear you're working on a literary piece, correct? May I see what you have so far?" He flagged the waiter and ordered our drinks, then quickly skimmed the menu and ordered lunch for both of us. _Oookay_... I eyed the menu as he snatched it from my hand. "And don't burn the bread." He handed the menus back to the waiter with a dismissive wave. His gaze drifted over my chest for a moment, finding its way back to my face when he caught me staring. _Someone has wandering eyes._ I tugged at my neckline, wondering if my cleavage was too generous.

"It isn't finished," I replied. "And I know you're only interested in completed manuscripts, so I'm not sure—"

"No worries, beautiful. Let's see it."

Chewing quietly on my salad, I gripped my napkin under the table, reminding myself to breathe every few seconds. He flipped casually from page to page, taking a bite of his lunch in between chapters. The silence was painful, but watching his brow crease as he read was even more agonizing. What was he thinking? _Does it suck? Should it be burned? The ashes scattered across the Pacific? Do I have a chance in hell?_

" _Hhmm_ ," Mark murmured, setting the manuscript down next to his plate, sitting back to stare at it intently. He finally looked up to address me, doing a double take when Ryan appeared, pulling up a chair to join us.

I stopped fidgeting with my napkin. "Ry...um, hi..."

"Hey, gorgeous, what is it? National Cleavage Day?" he mumbled under his breath before turning to Mark. My chin dropped and I adjusted my shirt again. "Hey Mark, hope I'm not intruding. Just managed to have someone cover my afternoon class so I could stop by and see how things are going." He reached over and slipped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer.

"How did you know where I was?" I whispered while Mark ordered them both a beer.

"Got your text earlier," he whispered back.

Mark returned his attention to Ryan, that fake smile still in place, an obvious hint of irritation peeking through. Even though Ryan and Mark had a professional history and seemed to be friendly acquaintances, it was clear I wasn't the only one who _did_ feel it was a bit of an intrusion. "Well...I understand, Ryan. It's nice of you to stop by, although Kate and I haven't had much time to discuss anything yet. I was just looking over her manuscript here..."

"It's good, right? I haven't seen writing that fresh since I've been teaching at the university. You'd be lucky to get your hands on her work, believe me."

Dropping my gaze to my plate, I kicked him underneath the table, aiming for the most sensitive part of his shin. What the hell was he doing? It was sweet he wanted to be supportive, but I didn't want him laying it on so thick. I wanted to earn this. Fair and square. It was already enough that he'd set me up with this meeting.

He winced but didn't look at me, just removed his arm from my shoulders and leaned in to rest his elbows on the table, scooting back when the waiter set the drinks down.

"Oh, I don't doubt it, Ryan. It's definitely fresh. Sharp. Something we'd be interested in, for sure. But I'd like to discuss your future, Kate," he tilted his head to look at me, "to get an idea of the direction you have in mind. I'm being very selective with who I represent at the moment. The market is changing, and the industry is as well. I'm in a position to be picky, cautious, even. Nothing personal, of course. All business."

"Right, I understand." I straightened up and gave him my full attention.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to take this with me," he waved the manuscript with one hand, then stuffed it in his briefcase, glancing at his watch. "I have thirty minutes to make it to the other end of town, so I want to get a head start. But I'll call you later this week so we can chat. Sound good?"

"Yes, definitely. Thanks so much for your time," I stood to shake his hand and see him off. He exchanged a few words with Ryan and then left, leaving us with the bill.

"Well he was sure in a rush," Ryan leaned back, resting an arm on the back of my chair.

"He's a busy guy," I pushed the remainder of the salad around on my plate.

"What's the matter?" He took a sip of his drink, eyeing my plunging neckline again. "You have that look."

"Nothing, I just can't believe you skipped your class to be here. Won't you get in trouble? For playing professor hooky?"

"No, I worked it all out. And what do you mean, 'nothing'? You look pissed."

"I just thought it was...inappropriate for you to show up like that. This was a business meeting, the guy is thinking of representing me."

"What? Kate, Mark's an old acquaintance, it's no big deal."

"Well, he didn't seem as chummy with you today as he was at the conference dinner. He didn't look very thrilled when you showed up."

"He'll get over it. I came here to support you, to tell him how valuable your work is."

"Ry," I handed the bill to the waiter but he stopped me, switching his credit card for mine. "I appreciate that, I really do. It was nice of you to skip class and think of me..."

"But I embarrassed you."

"A little, yes. And I want to earn this. I don't need you coming here, blowing smoke about how great I am, okay?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. The idea of seeing you get representation and being published is just...I'm jumping the gun, sorry. The last thing I want is to screw this up for you. I know what it's like to have one shot," he looked down and pulled the crust off of the last piece of bread.

It suddenly dawned on me why he cared so much, why he wanted to be here. He wanted to support me, but it was more than that. "Hey Ry, have you considered talking to Mark about your own work?"

"Sure, it's crossed my mind. But this is your show, I'm not stealing it. Besides, I haven't talked to the guy in ages. I don't want to bombard him with requests to read my stuff. Putting in a good word for you is a little different. You're a student, someone I can recommend."

"Well, it's still a possibility. Just try to stay on his good side," I winked, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"You mean don't crash the party next time, I get it," he chuckled and tossed his napkin down. "But you have to promise me not to wear anything that sexy in front of him again."

"Come on, it's not that bad. It's elegant."

"Oh, it's elegant, alright. But any warm-blooded male isn't admiring it for its sophistication. I mean it. Don't wear that in front of him again."

Crossing my arms and tilting my head, my warmness toward him instantly froze over. "If you think for one second you're going to tell me what the hell to wear, you're sorely mistaken, Mr. Campbell."

"Ms. Parker," he popped a mint into his mouth with a cocky grin. " _You're_ sorely mistaken if you think for one second I won't show up to your next rendezvous with Mr. Important Agent Man to make sure he isn't drooling over that glorious rack of yours."

"Ryan Campbell. If we weren't in a public place right now—"

"Battles, baby. You should know by now to choose them wisely with me. Now keep your panties on." Standing, he reached for my hand. "On second thought," he straightened his tie, "you're much more fun when they're off. Shall we?" He stepped aside to let me lead the way and I committed myself to keeping my coat off the entire walk home, no matter how cold it was outside. This was officially my new favorite top.

* * *

"Are you climbing the walls yet? Hearing voices? Seeing dead people?" Carter bit off a chunk of his pastry while I shuffled through the bouquets of flowers, on the hunt for the perfect set of lilies. The market was especially damp that morning, the cold air invigorating.

"I do still have a job, thank you very much. My cabin fever hasn't escalated to _that_ level of craziness yet. But my characters are driving me insane. They won't shut up."

Carter handed me a bouquet. "Isn't that a good thing? No writer's block that way, right?"

"Not enough iris," I shooed the bouquet away, digging farther back on the table, spotting the perfect bunch. "Yes and no. I just need time away from it, need to step away for a while."

"You want to come to our show tonight?"

"I'd love that, yeah."

"Ryan should come out too, he doesn't have class or anything tonight, does he?

"Nope, he's off. But I don't know if he'll come." I reached for some cash and paid for the flowers, popping open my umbrella when we made our way out onto the sidewalk.

"What? Why's that?"

"He's been locked away all week writing his own stuff. Well, revising, actually. He just finished a novel and he's completely immersed in it. When he comes home from work, he barely says a word, just dives in. I feel like I'm coaxing him out of a cave just trying to get him to eat dinner."

" _Hmmm_. Still no word on Felicia?"

"Nope. He won't talk about her. Or Jamie for that matter. He gets all edgy. Hot and cold. The minute I even start treading that ground, he just shuts down."

"It's probably better that way, Kate. I'd leave it alone. It's obviously history, you just had an uncomfortable run-in, that's all."

I sighed, "you're right."

"Kate," Carter stopped me when we reached my place. "Why is this business about his ex-girlfriends bothering you? Come on, I can see those wheels turning. What's the deal?"

Glancing up to my apartment window, I let out a long breath. "His relationship with Jamie was the most serious one he's been in...before me, I mean. I can't help it, it bothers me that he won't tell me about it. I guess I just want to know what went so wrong, is that so bad?"

"Is that all?"

"No."

"Well?"

"And the fact that he can barely even say her name...hurts. He really loved her. I haven't loved anyone like that. Only him."

"Hey," Carter took my hand and kissed it, pulling my chin up. "Don't do this. Compare yourself. Don't even go there, okay? You said she was the reason he lost that publishing deal. I'm sure that's why he doesn't like talking about her."

Leaning into him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed tight. "I seriously don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd be fending off Dean all on your own, that's what you'd be doing."

"Scary thought," I smiled up at him and turned for the door. "Thanks."

"Anytime ," he winked.

I headed upstairs to find Ryan huddled up at the tiny desk in the bedroom, typing away. Smiling at his brown glasses and pajama pants, I set the bags down, calling out to him. "I'm home, Ry. Want some dinner?" No answer, just a distracted grunt. Sneaking up behind him, I pulled off my shirt and tossed it at him.

"You sure know how to get a man's attention," he swung around and smiled, chucked his glasses on the desk and lunged toward me.

"Hey! Nuh-uh, there'll be none of that. I only wanted to know if you wanted dinner."

"Aw, what? That's false advertising, baby," he turned to fetch my shirt and tossed it clear across the room, meeting my objection with a mischievous grin.

"Ryan, I mean it," I shrieked when he wrestled me onto the bed. "I have to get ready, baby, come on!"

"Get ready for what?" He nuzzled against my neck, brushing his hand down my abdomen, landing on my hip. He was already taking his clothes off.

"I told Carter I'd go to his show tonight. You know...you can come if you want. Might do you some good to take a break..."

"You're going out?" He dropped his shirt on the bed. "You told me you were going to read my revisions tonight, help me clean up the manuscript."

Wincing, I shut my eyes and covered my forehead. "Shit. I did tell you that, didn't I? Would you mind if I go over it tomorrow instead? I really want to go to the show and take a break from all of this writing."

"Oh, fine. I'll come with you. Let me jump in the shower first."

"Good. I'll cook while you shower and then I'll get ready."

Peeling himself off of me with a small whine of protest, he grabbed some clean clothes and wandered into the bathroom. When he shut the door behind him, I slipped off my bra and smirked when it hit the floor. Now I'd have his undivided attention while I cooked, sure he'd stay far away from his laptop. Taking a hard copy of his manuscript from the desk, I carried it with me to the kitchen, flipped to the first page, and started cooking the rice. I burned myself and dropped the spoon when I saw the dedication: _To Jamie. Without you, this novel wouldn't have been possible._ In the center of the page, just below the typed dedication, sat a pencil drawing of a raven, with the word "Nevermore" scribbled underneath, erase marks surrounding it.

Ryan emerged from the bedroom in fresh clothes with dripping wet hair, smiling wide when he caught sight of my topless state. I returned his enthusiasm with a faint grin, but all I could focus on were the raven tattoos etched onto his forearm.

15. Show and Tell

Monday morning rolled around and I shooed Ryan off to work so I could get ready. It was my fourth meeting with Mark, and I was getting more nervous each time I had to meet him. He hadn't offered me anything yet, just kept discussing my manuscript and how we could polish it, make it more commercially appealing. Truthfully, it was starting to piss me off. I wasn't about to gut the whole thing just so he could sell it. Then it would be unrecognizable. Not at all what I had in mind. Ryan encouraged me to be patient and stand my ground, but my temper was beginning to flare with each new meeting, and I wasn't sure how much longer I'd be able to hold my tongue.

Mark wanted to meet in person since he worked here in the city, but I was secretly wishing for a decision via e-mail or a phone call. I'd arranged to take the morning off from work, and was starting to think I should cut back to part time. The financial help from Ryan and the fact that I wasn't paying tuition or my mom's bills anymore really had made a difference with my financial situation, and I did want to focus more on my writing now that I had the opportunity. But part of me was waiting on Mark's decision, to see whether or not it was time to devote more attention to my works in progress.

I'd just finished applying the last touches of my makeup when there was a knock at the door.

"Hi Kate, may I?" Mark asked when I opened the door. I was surprised to see him standing there with two coffees and a newspaper in his hands.

"Oh, hi, sure. Come on in." I stepped aside to let him by. "How did you know where we live?" I let out a nervous laugh. _How awkward._

"Your address is listed on your manuscript, hope you don't mind. Figured it'd be a nice change of pace." He glanced around, eyeing the bedroom. "You said 'we.' You don't live alone?"

"Oh, well sort of," I started straightening up the kitchen counter, embarrassed by the mess. "Ryan lives here, too. We kind of hop back and forth between his place and mine. Um, is that for me?" I pointed at the extra coffee in his hand.

Glancing at the bedroom again, he nodded and handed me the cup. "Hope you like decaf." His fingers grazed mine and his artificial smile seemed to adopt a flirtatious glint, lingering for a second before settling back into its generic mask. That was starting to piss me off, too. Each time we'd met, he'd managed to somehow wink or call me "beautiful," apparently his favorite pet name. It sure as hell wasn't professional and it always managed to make me uncomfortable.

"Please, have a seat," I quickly gestured to the sofa behind him. Sitting down next to him, I crossed my legs. _Thank God I wasn't still in my robe when he arrived._ I surveyed the rest of the room for any other mess that might embarrass me.

"I suppose I should start by discussing the elephant in the room," Mark began, opening his briefcase. "You must be tired of waiting for my decision, and for that, I do apologize. I'm sold on your work, Kate. Otherwise I wouldn't be investing so much time in meeting with you. I'd love to represent you and feel confident it would benefit us both greatly. However, the bottom line is this particular manuscript might not be the novel we want to tote as your debut piece." He pulled the hard copy onto his lap and sipped his coffee. "It's fantastic, don't get me wrong. But I'd like to see you direct some of this rawness, this spunk, into something a little more commercial. Right now, it's a bit too edgy. I'm not sure readers would warm to it easily."

Before I had time to mull over his words, my mouth jumped gears, already on the defense. "Mark, I'll say this in the most respectful, professional way I can, because I really do understand you might have certain marketing needs that this manuscript can't meet. But we keep meeting over and over again and I'm not sure what your expectations are—"

"Haha, hold up, Kate, slow down." He placed his hand on my knee, chuckling. My eyes rested on the contact. "You really are a firecracker, aren't you?" Shifting my knee, I discreetly bumped his fingers from it, pulling my skirt down to cover as much bare skin as possible. "That's the conclusion I've come to," he continued, recoiling his hand, "that it might not be the best piece to sell for your debut. But a partner of mine, Eric, seems to feel different, and when he talks, I listen. I've allowed him to read over the draft and he thinks you're just what the industry needs right now—a truly fearless voice. So," he removed a business card from his wallet and wrote something on the back, "I'd like for you to come to this gala with me on Friday night and meet him. I think if the three of us get together, we can find a way to make that edginess your trademark, work it to our advantage somehow. He's much more familiar with the PR aspect of the industry, having been a publicist himself. Can you be there?"

Examining the time and date written on the back of the card, my response was interrupted by the sound of the door's lock clicking open.

Ryan flew through the door, fumbling with his keys. "Babe, do you believe I made it all the way to the station and—" He looked up and froze. "Mark?" His face turned cold, his tone glacial. "What the hell's going on?"

"Uh, Ryan," I kept my tone calm and even, alarmed by his harsh greeting, "Mark stopped by to have our meeting here instead." My eyes locked on his, but he was too busy staring down Mark, his stance still and cautious. His entire posture and demeanor shifted. He was almost unrecognizable.

Sneaking a glance at our guest, I stood when I noticed him looking around the coffee table as if he'd misplaced something. He slid the manuscript into his briefcase and snapped it shut, clearly shaken.

"Hello, Ryan," he stammered. "Actually, Kate and I were just finishing up here, so I'll be on my way." _Finishing up? What?_

"Wait a minute." Ryan stalked toward him, stopping inches from his face.

"Whoa, Ryan." I reached for his arm, but he pulled away.

"Do you make a habit of this? Visiting your clients at home? Who the hell do you think you are coming over here like this?"

Holy shit.

"Ryan, calm down, what's the matter with you?" I grabbed hold of his arm this time, not budging when he tried to shake my grip. "This is _my_ house. Mark," I turned to him, pleading, "please forgive him for acting like this, I'm so sorry, I don't know what—"

"Don't apologize for me, Kate. I'm standing right here and I'm not fucking apologizing. Come on, Mark, let's hear it." _He did not just drop the f-bomb in front of my new agent. He did not just drop the f-bomb in front of my new agent. He did not just—_

"Get the fuck _out_. Now."

Oh. Dear. God.

Morphing from nervous to appalled, Mark picked up his briefcase and sheepishly slipped past him toward the door. "Who do you think you're talking to, Ryan? What the hell is your problem, man? Is this how you treat an old friend?"

"No. This is how I treat someone who comes to my home and makes a move on my wife."

_Holy Mother. He's officially lost it. The Shining's Jack Torrance has taken over his body and the Ryan I know has gone AWOL._ I glanced around for anything sharp and shiny.

"What?" Mark shook his head, squinting in confusion, "you're married? Making a move on your wife?" His eyes darted to mine for a second. "Ryan, there's been some confusion here. I don't know why you're acting like this or what's going on, but I don't want any part of it. Now, if you'll excuse me." His tone brusque, he exited, slamming the door behind him.

"I can't believe you just..." I couldn't find the words. My mouth was dry, feet glued to the floor, hands limp at my sides. Sweat broke out across my forehead and I started to feel dizzy. Before I passed out or risked strangling Ryan, I darted for the door and out into the hall, catching Mark at the elevator. "Mark, I have no idea what to say...I can't believe he just...please accept my apology."

The elevator doors opened and he hesitated, keeping his gaze on the empty space in front of him. "Well, I think it's safe to say he's embarrassed the both of us, Kate. No apology necessary. I won't be holding this against you. I still hope to see you Friday night, just be sure to come alone." With a firm nod, he stepped inside the elevator and it whisked him away. I gripped the wall with one hand to steady myself before returning to the apartment.

Ryan was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, still as stone. No sound in the room but the soft patter of rain hitting the windows. Slowly lifting his jacket from the table, he stood and walked past me and to the front door.

"Are we going to talk about what just happened here?" I asked quietly over my shoulder.

"I'm late for work," he murmured, the door shutting behind him.

* * *

My calves were aching, my clothes and face damp from the rain. I jogged all the way to Benaroya Hall and then headed back to 1st Ave toward the market. Kicking my sneakers off when I walked into the apartment, I let out a huff and tried to catch my breath. He was standing there in the kitchen, hands stuffed in his pockets, staring down at the floor.

"How was work?" He asked quietly.

"Peachy. How were classes?" I replied tersely, tossing my iPod on the counter and reaching next to him to grab a water bottle from the fridge.

"Kate," his hand shot out and grabbed my elbow as I closed the fridge door. I stopped cold, both of us facing one another but unable to make eye contact. "I'll make this right. I promise you, I'll make it right."

"It's irreversible, Ryan. You can apologize all you want to him, but you can't take it back. I'm lucky he's still willing to see me Friday night, still offering me representation by some token of a miracle."

He dropped my elbow. "I'm not apologizing to him."

I stepped back, looking at him now.

"What?"

"He shouldn't have come into this apartment, I don't care whether I knew him back in college or not."

"What if I told you I invited him here? This is my house."

"Yeah, you made that perfectly clear."

"What in God's name is _wrong_ with you?" I'd caught my breath after returning from my run, but now my heartbeat was racing again and I found myself panting, in disbelief at what I was hearing.

"Did you? Invite him in?"

"No, but that's beside the point."

"Either way, I don't like it."

"Don't like what? He's my agent and a professional acquaintance of yours. What about that could possibly be enough for you to curse at him and kick him out of the apartment this morning?"

"What part of 'Either way, I don't like it,' don't you understand?" His tone was biting, the words seething from his lips. I was gripping my water bottle so tightly, it would surely bust any second. "I was fond of the guy back in college, but from the moment he met you, he's been checking you out. I tried to ignore it at first, but it's fucking obvious as hell now."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this right now." My lunch meeting with Mark at the Irish pub suddenly came to mind, the day Ryan unexpectedly showed up. _Damn it, that was him staking his claim, wasn't it?_ "Here I am thinking you're about to apologize—because you absolutely owe me that—and instead you're trying to justify your behavior? Are you out of your damn mind? You just said you're going to make this right...how can you expect to do that if you don't even seen what the hell you did wrong?"

"I said I won't apologize to him. I'm apologizing to _you_...for nearly blowing your chance. I'll make this right, whatever I have to do."

"Apologize to the man!"

"Anything but that."

I let all my weight fall onto my hip, leaning on the side of the counter, absolutely exasperated. "Ryan. Please. Help me understand this. Is this seriously a matter of jealousy? My two best friends are straight, hot-blooded males my age with massive crushes on me, and I spend time with them. Alone. When you're not around. They're here, in this apartment, with me. Often. You're telling me I can't have a male acquaintance in my own home?"

"Carter and Dean are different. For the most part, I trust them." Breezing past me, he walked around to the other side of the kitchen counter and pulled his shirt off, rubbing his hands across his unshaven jaw. He looked exhausted. Conflicted.

"You called me your wife," I said, my voice softer now. "You were enraged, I barely recognized you."

"I know." He tilted his head back and shut his eyes.

"Does this have something to do with her?" Reaching over the counter, I slid his manuscript toward him. "I read the dedication. You knew I'd see it when I helped you with the revisions, so what's the deal?"

"Yes."

"Say her name."

He let out a low, quick breath. "Jamie."

"And what did she do to you?" I eased my weight off the counter, taking a small step forward.

"I told you, she burned me."

" _Ryan_."

"Fine, fine." He exhaled again, his voice resigned. "I left home one morning for the biggest meeting of my life—the meeting with the publisher—and I was already running late. I was all flustered, rushing out the door. I forgot my portfolio case. It had my wallet stuffed inside. When I came back she was screwing him in the laundry room." He shut his eyes, clenched his jaw. "I'd only been gone ten minutes."

_Oh no. Heading to work, forgetting something, Mark here in the apartment..._ "Oh, Ry." I shuffled forward and took his hand.

"Seeing that this morning triggered something and I just couldn't..." he suddenly choked on his words, eyes watered and glassy, face plagued with pain. And then the same pain that seized his face registered on mine.

Heartbreak. Pure, utter heartbreak.

"She was my whole. Fucking. World. I proposed, wanted the whole happily-after-ever cliché. It was all a game to her, a joke. When I found them together, she smirked, like she'd been waiting for it or something." Hanging his head, he slowly slid down the kitchen wall and landed with his knees up. I remained still, staring down at him. The most confusing array of emotions swam in my mind. Heartache for this beautiful man that had experienced betrayal of such a large magnitude—an intimate one I'd never even been close to experiencing—anger, hurt, and confusion, all rolled up into one big bundle of mayhem.

"The tattoos were for her," he went on, lifting his arm. "Well, for me, really. They were a reminder of how much it ruined me...how it consumed me afterward, drove me to the brink. The day I got them, I swore to myself to never let a woman destroy me like that again. So I started loving and leaving them. Gave me control and felt damn good. She didn't just rip my heart out, she made me lose focus. I missed that meeting, lost the deal, and lost my fiancée all in the matter of minutes. The publishing house wouldn't reschedule, even though they wanted the manuscript, were prepared to make an offer. I embarrassed them in front of their partners, wasted their time."

Bending down to join him now, I took hold of his hand. "I'll never hurt you like that."

"I want so badly to believe that. But the truth is there's nothing you can do to assure me. So I can't promise you I won't flip out like that again. It comes with the package, just like my other bullshit."

"I can deal with that. You put up with all of my bullshit," I gave him a wry smile.

"Can you? Because I want you. More than I've ever wanted anyone."

My eyes dropped to the floor.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, Kate." He took hold of my chin and pulled my gaze back to his. "And it scares the living hell out of me. Loving her broke me, but the love I had for her was blind, naive, one-sided. Your love is one hundred percent genuine and has the power to completely obliterate me."

And therein lay the problem . He was preaching to the choir. The difference was he had an extensive backlist of affairs that seemed to further confirm one thing: I wasn't the only one he had fallen hard for. He'd been deserted, but he'd done his fair share of deserting, too. The same instinctual sense that told me his love was genuine also told me I was only one small step away from being the next piece of history on that ill-fated list. Either my instinct was conflicted, or I'd misread its signals all along.

16. Disobedience

"So he was engaged. That's a good thing. That means the guy wasn't afraid of commitment before his player days." Carter's voice melted through the phone, full of comfort and reassurance. He was so good at this stuff. "Maybe now you can leave it alone? Let the dude move on, Kate."

"I know, you're right. It just really threw me for a loop. I mean, he told me things with Jamie were serious, but he never mentioned the engagement. I just hate that he feels like he needs to keep it from me and I don't like being kept in the dark...is that so unreasonable?" I tucked my legs under the blanket and curled up on the couch, listening for the turn of the doorknob, knowing Ryan would be home any second. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet since his admission, wandering around the apartment all week, pensive and broody. I mindlessly flipped through the TV channels as I sipped hot chocolate, hoping pre-freak-out Ryan would make an appearance tonight when he came home from work.

"Well, that's an area you're an expert in, so I'm sure you can understand where he's coming from on that one."

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Forget it," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Look, take my word for it, Kate. Move on and let it go. The guy broke down and told you shit that was probably really hard for him to talk about. Don't dwell. And don't make him, either. He loves you, that's all that matters."

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you, Carter...for everything."

"Good luck at the gala tomorrow night. I'll see you Saturday morning? Can't wait to hear all about it."

"Mmmkay. Yup, see you then. Have a good day at work." I hung up and stared at the phone, thankful we still had our Saturday morning market dates every week. We'd kept them up after my mom passed, the task comforting and familiar. It didn't feel right abandoning the routine.

"Hey," Ryan gave me a small smile when he walked through the door. I stood to greet him, but he gestured to sit back down on the couch, crouching down to sit next to me. "I have some news."

"Oh? Good news, I hope?" Maybe he apologized to Mark after all, came to his senses. Mark said he wouldn't hold anything against me, personally, but I was still embarrassed to face him tomorrow night. Ryan's apology would at least smooth things over a bit.

"Well, I hooked you up with someone else, directly with a publisher, actually. You have a meeting with him Tuesday morning at ten a.m." Reaching over, he kissed my forehead and waited for my reaction. "I told you I'd make this right. Now you can skip this gala tomorrow night and just start fresh with a publisher who is really interested in your manuscript just the way it is."

"Really?" I shifted, rustling with the blanket. "Wait, skip the gala? That's such short notice to cancel, Ry. Who is the publisher?"

"An acquaintance of mine set me up with Bob Hall over at Simon and Warden. They're an excellent house, and they've already read the first five chapters. I sent it over yesterday morning."

"Oh, I've heard of them. Wow," I blinked, ran my fingers over his knuckles. _How am I going to get out of this one?_ "Thank you, babe, that's such a nice surprise. But I don't want to cancel with Mark, especially not at the last minute like this. It's unprofessional, and I've already put so much effort into this deal."

Ryan bit his lip and sat back on the couch, his gaze fixed on the coffee table in front of us. "I really pulled strings to set this up for you. And I told you, Mark's interested in more than your writing. Please, forget the gala. He's been screwing around with you, anyway. He wants you to practically rewrite the entire novel."

I released his hand and stood and stretched, turning to head to the kitchen for some water. Showing Ryan how appreciative I was for his gesture yet declining it at the same time was going to be harder than I thought. He really wasn't going to let this thing with Mark go.

"Ry, I really don't want to argue. I admit the path with Mark has been...bumpy. But after the way you treated him, it was beyond generous of him to still offer me representation. And I'm meeting with his partner Eric at this gala, too. I can't blow off both of them, I already have too much invested in this. Maybe I can do both? Meet with this Bob Hall guy and politely decline in person?"

"You mean go to the meeting anyway, even though you already know you're going to decline his offer."

"Yes. Why not?"

"Because you're wasting his time, then."

"Look, I'm trying to decline in the best way possible, so your efforts won't be completely in vain." I took a swig of water and leaned on the counter. Ryan was still staring at the coffee table. "I don't know what else to do besides tell you how much I appreciate what you're trying to do here, Ry. But I've made my mind up. I'm sticking with Mark and the publisher he's signing me with."

"Please at least see what Bob Hall has to offer. Whatever he offers is guaranteed to be better than what Burgess wants to give you." He stood up now, turning to face me, him on one side of the counter, me on the other. He wasn't budging, but I couldn't either.

"Ryan..."

"I'm begging you to forget this gala. Please, don't see Mark again."

I didn't have to search very far for the source of his distress. One look at him, and the quiet desperation was obvious. Those caramel-colored eyes I loved so much were pleading with me, pleading for more than just a change in my business plans. This was about Mark, not my publishing deal.

"This really means a lot to you."

He nodded solemnly, floating around the counter to meet me. "I don't like you working so closely with him. I know you don't like it, but he's officially on my shit list, and I don't trust him."

"I can accept that you don't trust him, but I need for you to have a little faith in me."

"I do have faith in you, Kate." He reached over and folded me into his arms, peering down at me. "But I need you to be patient with me. Can you do this? For me?"

I wanted to object vehemently, wanted to tell him how irrational and insecure he was being about this whole situation. But irrationality and insecurity were things I was very familiar with myself, so part of me empathized with him.

"I'll cancel the gala and meet with Simon and Warden on Tuesday."

Ryan's shoulders relaxed and he tightened his hold on me, tilting my head to rest into the crook of his neck. "Thank you," he whispered, kissing my earlobe. I wrapped my arms around his waist and closed my eyes, suddenly wishing I had a girlfriend to talk to. Boys were simpler, but no less exhausting.

* * *

The noon lunch rush hour was a welcome break from the slow, quiet pace of the work day. I exited the literacy center and rounded the corner to my favorite lunch spot, smiling gratefully when I spotted Crystal waiting for me at a table. She smiled back, a soft, uncertain smile, shifting in her seat when I approached her and set my bag down.

"Hey, thanks for coming," I said, ordering right away. I handed the waiter the menu and leaned in to rest my elbows on the table.

"Sure, I'm glad you called. A little surprised, but...glad."

"I know things have been weird between us," I said, shrugging off my jacket. "I should've just talked to you about it when you started seeing Dean. I mean, I know he's probably assured you that nothing has ever gone on between him and me, but it's time I tell you personally. I have never been interested in being more than friends, I can promise you that. And he really, really cares about you. Compared to the others he's..." I stopped for a moment, glancing out the window. It probably wasn't a good idea to compare the girl to all the bimbos before her if I wanted to make a friend here.

She laughed lightly, her bright green eyes following my gaze out the window, the sunlight highlighting her pretty golden locks. "Well, aside from caring about Dean, that's one thing we have in common," she said, playing with her straw wrapper. "Apparently, our guys have dated half of the Pacific Northwest population." We both turned to look at one another. "I know what you're trying to say, and thank you. From what Dean's told me, it sounds like it's the same for you and Ryan. You were the one to tame him, huh?"

"I'm not sure 'tame' is the word I'd use," I laughed, taking a sip of my drink. "Most of the time I feel like he's sort of taming _me_. Actually, that's one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you..."

"Oh?" Her eyebrows shot up as the waiter set our plates down.

"Yeah, well I was going to talk to Carter about this because he's my best friend and all, but I think I need a different perspective. I don't have any girlfriends...that's never really worked in my favor." I shrugged, looking down. Crystal sought out my eyes, pulling my gaze to hers with a shy smile.

"And you need a girl's opinion about something to do with Ryan?" she asked.

"Yes. Well, he's irrationally jealous of my new agent. Okay, maybe not _completely_ irrational. He has baggage that warrants it, I guess." I waved my right hand, shooing away that subject. "Anyway, he's completely convinced that this guy is attracted to me and asked me—made me promise—that I wouldn't go to this gala tonight. I'm meeting with this agent and Ryan wants me to cancel it and drop my deal with his agency completely."

"And you're not okay with that."

"Definitely not."

"And you didn't cancel, did you?" her eyes slanted accusingly.

"No, but I told him I did."

"Uh oh."

"I tried telling Ryan last night that it's so unprofessional to blow it off on such short notice, but he begged."

"Well, is this agent guy really attracted to you? I mean, has he hit on you or anything?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Taking a bite of my sandwich, I recalled his subtle move, touching my knee, and the way his eyes lingered on my chest. "To Ryan's credit, this Mark guy is a little flirtatious. But it's nothing I can't handle, and I'd like to think he's professional enough that he wouldn't actually try anything. And he's—well, was—a friend of Ryan's. They went to college together."

"Oh, so Ryan knows him?"

"Yes, but now he doesn't trust him around me."

"Ah, yes. The apartment incident. I heard about this."

"Dean and Carter," we both chimed in unison, me shaking my head in understanding.

"And I haven't mentioned that I've noticed Mark's wandering eyes, because I don't want to give him any more of a reason to jump to conclusions, you know?"

" _Hhhmm_ ," Crystal scrunched her nose, "this Mark sounds a bit two-faced."

Placing the remaining triangles of my sandwich into two little squares, I shook my head and scooted back in the booth, taking a deep breath. "He's very fake, in my opinion. And now Ryan set me up with another publisher and expects me to dump Mark, just to appease him."

"Okay, so if Ryan doesn't trust him and you think he's flirtatious yourself, why do you still want to work with him? Do you really want an agent who is going to make you uncomfortable?"

"That's just it, I see it as a business thing. I'm already invested, supposed to sign the contract tonight. The way I see it, I couldn't care less if Mark is interested in me because I would never take his shit. My focus is on signing a deal with this publisher he has lined up, on the career opportunity. The rest is irrelevant in my book. I think Ryan's blowing it out of proportion."

Crystal gently nodded, her eyes moving to the salt and pepper shakers to the side of the table.

"Would you cancel if Dean was jealous?"

"I don't know," she replied, bringing her eyes back to mine. "This is your career and you don't want Ryan meddling just because he's jealous. But it doesn't sound like he's trying to control you; it sounds like it's genuinely important to him for some reason. If he went out of his way to set you up with another publisher over this, it really matters to him—whether he's blowing it out of proportion or not."

"Crap," I let out a breath, dropping my head in my hands. "That's what I think, too. It's just..." I picked up my spoon and fished it around in my soup bowl, unsure of how to verbalize the conflict I'd felt brewing all week.

"What is it?"

"Since I've met Ryan, everything I told myself I would never do, I find myself doing. It's not that I mean to be inconsiderate of his feelings, but I feel like he's interfering with...the way I live my life. And this canceling-with-Mark thing is just too much. "

"You're set in your ways," Crystal said matter-of-factly.

"Very," I chuckled, relief in my voice. Relief that this girl, who I barely knew, understood what I was going through. And that she could relate to where I was coming from. _The gift of perception._ "I want to manage my life and be self-sufficient, and Ryan's already responsible for setting me up with Mark."

"You feel like Ryan's encroaching on your independence."

"Very much so, yeah."

"Well, you're asking me if I'd cancel. But you didn't cancel, you just told Ryan you did. So, what you're really asking me is whether or not I think you're doing the right thing by lying and going anyway."

"I guess you're right."

"I think if your instinct tells you that sticking with Mark would be a good business decision, then go. Hopefully Ryan will come to his senses and support your decision. "

_Instinct._ Well, instinct is a funny thing. And it had been a real pain in the ass lately.

* * *

At four o'clock, I rushed home and took a quick shower, careful to select a dress with a fair amount of coverage. Settling on a little black number and a pair of burgundy suede heels, I grabbed my peacoat and made my way out the door, leaving a note on the counter for Ryan. He'd be home by seven, and hopefully by the time I got home, he'd have a few hours to calm down and think things through. And forgive me.

17. Dodge Ball

The Westin ballroom was beautiful, all decked out and full of the who's who of the publishing world. Mark spotted me from across the room and gave me an eager wave, a tall debonair man with black wavy hair next to him. Following suit, the man lifted his glass in my direction and smiled, stepping forward with Mark to meet me near the foyer. Mustering all of my bravery, I offered my hand when the men approached me.

"Eric, I presume?" I smiled at Mark's partner, shaking his hand.

"Yes, it's a pleasure. Kate, you look stunning. Mark's told me so much about you," he shook my hand and winked. He was built, strong, and seemed well composed, but the liquor on his breath made me wonder how he managed to appear so in control. I was nearly suffering a hangover just breathing in his scent. Mark smelled of whiskey, too, but he didn't seem quite as loaded as his friend.

"Ah, good things, I hope," I gripped my handbag, looking for the nearest table to sit down.

"Here you go, Kate. I hope white is okay," Mark handed me a glass of wine and glanced around. I accepted gratefully, making a mental to note to call them a cab after dinner if they weren't staying in the hotel. "So, is everything okay...er...did you come with a date?"

"Oh," I blushed, glancing down. "No, he's not coming, Mark. Again, I'm very sorry about...everything. I can't tell you how appreciative I am that you agreed to see me again."

Visibly relaxing, Mark flagged a waiter and took another drink from a tray, tilting his head to the far end of the room. "Let's sit, shall we? And it's certainly my pleasure. I hope whatever was going on with Ryan worked itself out. He always was a bit of a loose cannon."

The three of us took seats at a large, round dinner table dressed with silk ivory linens, the other guests acknowledging us briefly as we settled in our chairs. Servers flitted around us like hummingbirds, quick and nearly invisible as they swapped out salad dishes and fresh glasses of wine. Dinner lagged as Eric chatted with a couple next to him, and Mark stepped away from the table every few minutes to take phone calls. They both seemed to slow down a bit on the alcohol intake, thankfully. I picked at some bread intermittently, aware I'd need more in my stomach at the rate they were passing me wine. I started to feel a bit of a buzz, a weak haze washing over me when I set the butter down. "Whoa," I mumbled to myself, standing and picking up my clutch.

Mark motioned for me to wait as he stepped out to answer yet another call, and Eric cut off his conversation with the couple next to him and turned to face me.

"Kate, are you feeling all right? You look a little pale."

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks. I'm just going to step out to the restroom. I'll be right back."

"Okay, certainly. When you get back, we can get down to business."

"Sounds good." I nodded and slipped away from the table, then headed to the restroom. I sipped on a glass of water on the way, thankful for the refreshing liquid as it cooled my throat. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my vision blurred for a moment, effectively throwing off my equilibrium. _Shit. Maybe I'm really dehydrated._ Reaching for my phone, I was relieved to see no text messages or voicemails from Ryan yet. Thank God Eric said we could get down to business when I returned, because I was ready for the evening to be over. The guilt of lying to Ryan was starting to eat away at me, and I suddenly found myself backtracking and rethinking each thought that led me to make this decision. _Oh well. Too late to do anything about it._

The relief I'd felt after drinking some water vanished, a mass attack of hot flashes hitting me full speed when I returned to the table.

"Ah, there she is," Eric said, standing to pull out my seat. "Shall we talk about your novel, now, Kate?"

"Yes," Mark said. "That is, if you're feeling up to it. Eric mentioned you looked a little pale, how are you feeling?" He leaned over and helped scoot my chair in further, briefly resting his hand on the back of my neck. Goose bumps sprang up in his wake.

"That'd be great. I think I'm going to take off soon, I'm not feeling so hot..."

"Here, perhaps some water will help?" Eric slid a glass of ice water toward me, he and Mark watching patiently as I took a few sips.

"Thank you, much better." I placed the glass down and crossed my legs. "So, Eric, Mark tells me you have a bit of a different perspective on how to market my work?"

"I do, I do." Eric eyed his watch and glanced at Mark. "Actually, I have the contract and some notes about your manuscript in my briefcase. How about we head to the lobby and go over everything over a few drinks? I'm not having any dessert, are you?" He looked to me, then to Mark. We both shook our heads and followed Eric's lead, standing to exit. A head rush welcomed me as I straightened out my knees and I reached for the table.

"Whoa, Kate. Are you all right, sweetheart?" Mark slipped his arm around my waist and Eric rushed to my other side, both of them slowly escorting me out of the ballroom.

"I hope I'm not coming down with anything," I whispered, gripping my clutch tightly, feeling more and more disoriented by the second. _Maybe I should call Ryan to pick me up. I'll worry about his wrath when I feel better._

We reached the lobby and I glanced over my shoulder as Mark and Eric led me past it, still on each side of me, guiding me by the elbows.

"Oh, aren't we stopping here in the lobby?" The hotel's warm lighting bounced off the chandelier above me and I winced, sensitive to the sharp reflections. When I opened my eyes, I saw double. _Holy hell, what's happening to me?_ Panic started to take over my senses; my palms sweating, my knees trembling.

"Yes, we'll come right back," Eric said, leading me to the far end of the foyer. "I left my briefcase in my room, so we'll make a quick pit stop." We stepped into the elevator and I started to sway, gripping Mark's shoulder as I faltered to the left. _Holy shit, did I eat something...drink something..._

"Easy there, Kate," he said, sliding his cold hand up my dress, grabbing my ass. "We'll make this quick."

Oh fuck.

Another hot flash rolled over me as I groaned, and recognition hit. The familiar helplessness that accompanied being taken advantage of; visions of my early teen years unfolding around me, a swamp of memories, moist and suffocating. The dizziness was beginning, and in seconds, I'd have no control. "Ah, no...no I'm leaving," I mumbled reaching for the elevator door, ready to bolt as soon as it opened. Eric's hand snatched my elbow and lassoed me back, his grip firm.

"You're not well, Kate, you should relax," he leaned in and brushed his nose in my hair, his hot breath on my earlobe. I cringed at the smell of hard whiskey mixed with something sweet.

The elevator's ding sound announced our arrival. The doors slid open, and Mark and Eric immediately pushed me into the empty hallway.

"Stop," I pulled away from them, dizziness and hot flashes swallowing me up, sending me toppling over onto the wall. _Ryan, oh God, Ryan. Shit, my phone..._ "Get off me, I have to..." my words began to slur and my vision worsened as I attempted to reach for my phone in my purse. Mark slipped his key into a hotel room door and Eric stuffed my clutch in his suit jacket.

"Don't fight it honey," Mark's voice sounded like an echo now, each word multiplying and vibrating into a thousand syllables. They led me into the room and Eric locked the door behind him, taking me by the small of the back and leading me to the bed. _What have I done?_

"Now, we have this contract for you to sign here, but we're not quite convinced you're committed to this deal, Kate." Mark loosened his tie and reached for the mini-bar, gesturing to Eric to hold me down on the edge of the bed.

"I said get off, get off, get off..." I wiggled from his grasp but he slid next to me, wrenching my arms behind my back.

"See, marketing your work is going to be very challenging," Mark continued, returning with more whiskey. "And we need to know you're going to cooperate, that you're willing to do whatever is necessary to keep us happy."

"So what can you do for us, Kate?" Eric leaned in and grazed my breast. I flinched, letting my head roll to the side of my shoulder, spitting fast in his face. I wanted to scream for help, wanted to cry out, but my voice was weak, my body sagging, growing lifeless. I struggled to keep my eyes open, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Oh, oh, oh," Eric let out a deep, filthy laugh. "You did say she was feisty, my friend. I like that." He yanked on my wrists, wrenching my arms tighter behind my back. "And she does have a _fantastic_ rack," he reached for my breast again.

"Enough of the bullshit, she's fading fast. Come on, unzip her dress." Mark's voice turned low and urgent. My eyelids began to droop and I felt him come up in front of me and open my legs, heard the sound of his belt buckle opening. I let my weight pull me backward, flopping onto the bed behind me, no longer able to hold myself upright. Eric scooted up next to me, his slick fingers brushing against my shoulders, pulling my bra straps down before moving to my dress zipper. Their husky voices began to fade, farther and farther, a soft thumping interrupting their distant chatter. Doorknobs turning. Footsteps thumping. Shouting. Rustling. Cracking. Breaking. Then I saw nothing at all. Only darkness.

* * *

Warmth crowded around my body from head to toe, my legs stretching outward to push it away. A heaviness on my chest instinctually made me try to buck the weight off, my stomach and arms thrashing upward and outward, my voice finding its way to my lips. "No! Help, help—"

"You're safe, Kate," a strained, familiar voice hovered over me, strong hands clasping my shoulders, soothing fingers rubbing my skin. "You're at home. Safe." My eyes opened and I found Ryan. I kicked the thick blanket off of me, instantly relieved when the warmth left my skin. I lay on the couch, Carter and unfamiliar voices near the front door. A woman appeared next to me, gently reaching for my hand.

"Kate, I'm Kelly, your nurse. I treated you earlier, but you were a bit groggy. It's Saturday morning and you slept through the night. Are you feeling okay? May I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. Am I—was I—"

"You were not. Ryan and your friend here found you before the assault took place. You have good men looking out for you. You were given a full rape screening and urine test and you have not suffered any physical trauma. It seems your attackers administered a form of GHB, most likely through food or drink, and it should work its way out of your system within 24 to 48 hours. You can expect a lot of fatigue over the next day or two, and possibly nausea."

"I filed a report with the police," Ryan spoke up, sitting next to me on the end of the couch. "They were arrested, and the decision to pursue any charges is entirely up to you."

"Yes," Kelly spoke up, her voice soft and soothing, like Ryan's fingers. "Because of the nature of the drug, they can potentially face up to two years in prison, maybe more. There are many factors that will determine the outcome. Whatever you decide, it is understandable and your right. Thankfully, you have two eyewitnesses, both of whom have been interviewed. I've filed my health examination notes for record, and if you need anything at all, please just call me at this number." She handed me a card. "I'm very sorry for what you've experienced. I'll come back to check on you tomorrow. You're in my thoughts." Smiling warmly once more, she nodded at Ryan and made her way to the door, bidding farewell to the officers on her way out.

"Would you like to speak to the police later?" Ryan peered down at me, dark circles under his eyes, lids red and swollen. _Oh, what this man must've gone through because of me._

"Yes, not right now."

Ryan exchanged looks with Carter, who was still huddled with the police at the front door. His face was sunken in, too, pale and gaunt. A ghost.

"Ms. Parker," one of the officers spoke up, "please just give us a call when you're ready. We have everything else we need for now. I'm very sorry."

"I will, thank you," my voice cracked. Ryan handed me a cup of water. As soon as the police were gone, the tears started to flow.

"Ssshhh, baby. I've got you, I've got you." Ryan scooped me into his arms and breathed in, his forehead to mine, eyes screwed tight.

"I'm going to run to the market, Kate," Carter whispered over me, brushing back my hair. He looked at Ryan. "Call me if you need me, man." Ryan nodded and wrapped me tighter in his arms. The doorknob turned and that's the last thing I remember before dozing back off, trying to kick off the heavy, suffocating blanket as I drifted, but the blanket wasn't really there.

* * *

Trudging through the following weeks in a zombie-like state, the hours spent at work were hazy, and the counseling sessions I attended all blurred together, each session overlapping with another, until I couldn't make out when one began and the other ended. I retained the information I was given, talked everything out to the point of exhaustion, but that didn't alter the fact that I had changed. There was no going back, despite the fact that Mark and Eric hadn't actually gone through with the rape.

The "what-if" plagued me more. Terrified me. The shock that these two men had gone so far as to try to take my free will wouldn't subside. The reality that I'd gone against my instinct, my better judgment, allowing it to happen, wasn't going anywhere, either. In fact, it festered and bubbled up inside of me, rooting itself way deep down, determined to never let me forget how foolish I'd been.

It didn't matter that those were common reactions for rape victims—to feel guilty, to feel responsible in some way. Because the one thing I'd always had going for me was instinct. I'd known it from the beginning, sensed something foul in Mark. And going to the gala meant I'd betrayed that instinct entirely, blindfolded and gagged it, and for what? To declare my independence? _Stupidity._

No matter how many times my counselor confirmed it wasn't my fault, I denied the opportunity to let myself off the hook. This time I'd gone too far to try to hold my own, to prove something to myself—and to Ryan. And now he and my friends were paying for it, too. Lost sleep, gray hair, and God knows what else. All because I worried them sick.

The atmosphere shifted between Ryan and me, him coming and going from work with only a few words and a sad smile, me sullen and edgy as we interacted each day. Channeling all of my anxious energy into writing, I'd found myself at a dead lull, unable to pull myself from the rut. Dean and Carter had made themselves scarce, and the silence around the apartment took on a life of its own, became safe and familiar. Welcome. Images of Ryan and Carter busting the hotel door down and knocking Eric and Mark out cold haunted me, even though I wasn't awake to witness the scene. The thought of me lying there unconscious, what Ryan and Carter must've seen, the impact of their fists as they'd pummeled my attackers—all of it kept me stunned in silence, semi comatose.

When Ryan came home from work on Friday evening, he was just as quiet as he'd been over the past few weeks, but even more irritable. Shoving drawers shut in the kitchen and banging around the cabinets when he couldn't find what he needed to make dinner, he slammed the fridge shut and just stood there, a slight tremor in his hands.

I rose to my feet from the counter bar stool and walked toward him, unsure if I should reach out and touch him. "Why are you so angry?" I stuffed my hands in my pockets. "Look, I'm sorry I lied to you about going to the gala, but you're acting like I asked to be mauled by those scumbags. It was supposed to be a business meeting and it turned to shit; that part was out of my control. You can't honestly think I deliberately went with them to their room, Ryan. They dragged me there and almost—"

"I know what almost happened, for fuck's sake! I was there, remember? I pried the assholes off of you!"

I took a step back, feeling his hot breath on my face.

"I know you didn't intend to cheat on me. And what they did...that will _never_ be your fault, do you understand me?"

"Then what's the problem?" I softened my tone of voice, lowering my chin. "Why can't you forgive me about the damn gala? I feel bad enough, Ry."

"Because it's not just the fucking gala, Kate. It's everything, from day one. The apartment—it's yours, not ours. Your dreams—they're yours, not mine to share with you. And the money," he let out a frantic laugh, turning to face the living room window, rubbing his hand over his forehead. "I thought we were making progress when you accepted the rent money, my gift to you on Christmas. But you didn't really accept it. No, what did you do? You picked up double shifts, then worked your ass off to save more money, and for what?"

"To pay for my own classes and bills, what do you mean, 'what?'" I stepped forward, feeling defensive. _Where the hell is all of this coming from?_

"Yeah, so you didn't have to accept any more help from me. Even when you _did_ let me help you, you never let me forget it, always reminding me it was temporary. That I could never take care of you. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is? Do you know how selfish it is?"

"Excuse me, selfish? Did I just hear that correctly? So, you're angry I want to be financially stable? You're pissed I want to hold on to my independence? Are you _kidding_ me?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to maintain your independence! Shit, that's one of the things that drew me to you in the first place—your vitality, ambition, your strong will. But you use your independence as a shield, damn it. It's just a disguise. Gives you another reason to keep everyone out. How can I compete with that?" He turned and threw a pan into the sink, the clatter making me wince. "How can I compete when there's no room for me, when you won't let me in, won't let me share your life with you?"

"Ryan," my shoulders slumped and I exhaled a slow, single breath. "That's not...this isn't..."

He faced me and stepped closer.

"I understand you wanted to continue things with Mark because you wanted to forge your own career path, wanted to handle it yourself. I get it. But at what expense? I almost fucking killed them when I walked in that room, Kate. Did Carter tell you? He had to pry me off of them. I just kept pounding their faces while you were there on the bed, half naked and passed out! Do you have any idea?" He exhaled, hands shaking. "No matter what, you have to have the upper hand. All this power-struggle banter between us? It's not just a joke to you, I realize that now. It's real. And I can't do that. I won't give myself to someone who won't meet me half way."

"Ryan, I realize that now. It kills me that you had to witness that— _kills_ me! I'm sorry...I've been trying like hell to compromise with you, and I'm aware of how I can be..."

"You don't want to compromise, Kate." He rolled back on his heels, rested against the counter. "Look how painful it is for you to even _try_. You want to keep your distance and let me love you when it's convenient for you. I know I've dealt a shitty hand in the relationship department before you. But being on the receiving end of a relationship where the woman you love won't let you love her back...it's a dead end." He lifted his keys and wallet from the counter. "And I've had enough of dead ends."

His soft shirt sleeve brushed my shoulder as he headed for the exit, the sound of the door closing behind him triggering an old, familiar ache, one that inspired my need to run.

Run.

18. Expelled

"You have to go to him. Just call in sick from work today and go talk things out." Crystal took a healthy bite of her burrito, shaking her head adamantly. "Talk some sense into him. He's had a few days to calm down." She sat on my couch while I paced back and forth in the living room. I had to work that afternoon, but I was downright exhausted, unable to sleep since Ryan left. He'd come and taken his things when I'd been out working, left the apartment key in an envelope underneath the door mat. Now it had been four days since he walked out.

I refused to believe he was gone for good; it was all so ridiculous. He loved me, I knew this. And I loved him. Being separated wasn't an option. Period. I knew I messed up, could understand and respect the fact that he'd felt inadequate in the relationship, that I'd kept him at arm's length just as I had with so many relationships and friendships before him, but the fact that he moved his things out was so extreme. Surreal. I'd reason with him. He'd come back.

"He's just angry, right? He's just angry," I kept pacing, biting my lip. The smell of Crystal's lunch made me want to hurl. Dean arrived with a bagged lunch of his own, closing the front door behind him.

"What'd I miss?" He eyed Crystal as he took a bite of a falafel, sitting down next to her on the couch. The aromas in my living room were too much. I scurried over to the window and cracked it, leaning out to take a whiff of fresh air, breathing in then out slowly, evenly.

"She's having another episode." Crystal replied, dipping her burrito in some foul-smelling sauce.

"Do I need to get Carter over here? Do we need to have an intervention, Kate?"

"Dean, I'm really not in the mood for your and Carter's stand-up act today," I flashed him a warning with my eyes. His chewing slowed, eyebrows rose. "I have to go to work soon, I just...I don't know what to say to make him understand that I'm sorry. Can't he understand how much I have on my plate right now?" Dean and Crystal looked down at their lunches on their laps, chewing quietly when they realized what I meant. I'd decided to drop charges on Mark and Eric, wanted absolutely nothing to do with court, the police, testifying—none of it. They were already facing sentencing for possession of the drug, and that was enough for me. Some called it denial, lack of justice.

I called it moving on.

The counselors, the nurses—they all assured me that it was my right to forego charges, that women chose not to pursue their assailants all the time. As much as I wanted those assholes to pay for what they'd done—or tried to do—I wanted peace even more. Quiet. Distance. To start over and pretend the whole nightmare never happened. Only I had Ryan's absence to remind me of the incident every second, with each stroke of the clock's hand.

It was excruciating.

"I'll be fine," I added, crossing my arms and resuming my pacing, "we'll be fine. He'll come back. I'll go to work this afternoon and when I come home, he'll be here."

Crystal cleaned up the last of her lunch, eyeballing Dean, jumping when my cell phone chimed. I listened to it ring for a second, then hurried to pull it out of my pocket and answer. _Ryan. It's Ryan._ Flipping it open, I realized I didn't recognize the number. _Shit. Not Ryan._

"Hello?" I answered half-heartedly.

"Ms. Parker? This is Leslie from Simon and Warden. I'm just calling to confirm your appointment with Mr. Hall tomorrow at 2:00, the one you rescheduled."

"Oh, yes," I let out a breathy whisper, recalling the appointment Ryan rescheduled for me with the other publisher. The important one, the only one, especially now that Burgess was out of the picture. "Of course, thank you. I'll be there at 2:00 sharp."

"Excellent. Thank you and see you then."

Shutting my phone, I blinked. "I completely forgot. I have to meet with this publisher tomorrow. The one Ryan set me up with..." He thought to reschedule it for me the day after the gala, when I was sick in bed, dealing with the aftermath. The publisher was willing to hold off for a few weeks due to my sickness. And he didn't cancel it, which meant...he still wanted me to go. To be successful. Even if he was upset with me. Even if...

Dean cleared his throat and stood, gathering the trash from his lunch, Crystal standing with him. "Uh...the other one? The one he wanted you to make a deal with instead of..."

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Crystal nudged him in the ribs.

"I mean, that's great! Go for it, Kate," he added, shrugging at her. Pressing my lips together and shutting my eyes, I lowered myself to the couch's edge, placing my hands on my forehead.

"I can barely concentrate enough to get through the work day, let alone prepare myself for this meeting. I need to make this right with Ryan. I need to...this is...how can I..." My throat constricted, choking on my mass of conflicted emotions. I was all over the damn place, too shaken up to think straight.

"Hey, hey, hey," Crystal kneeled down next to me, peering up to peek between the cracks of my fingers. Dean joined her, peeling my hands from my face. "Ryan would've wanted you to go after this, no matter what," she said, a wry smile pulling at her lips. "Seriously, Kate, you should go and sign this contract, regardless of what happens with you and Ry."

This time, Dean nudged Crystal in the ribs. "You should go talk to him after work," he said. "You both need to talk. You can't avoid each other, can't end things like this."

He was right. I needed closure. "I'm the one who wants to talk, Dean. What if he's really...he must really be done...with me."

"Well, sitting here sulking about it isn't going to solve anything. He's hurt and angry because he loves you. What happened to you...what he and Carter saw that night..."

"It terrified him," Crystal finished for him. "No one is trying to make light of what you went through, Kate. It's just...he felt helpless. So he's angry. You must know that."

"I do."

"Then go," Dean said, voice firm.

"I'll go see him tomorrow, right after my appointment at Simon and Warden." I was too chicken-shit to go over there that night. My nerves weren't ready. I needed just one more day to collect my thoughts, plan out everything I wanted to say. He needed to see the intensity in my eyes, hear the sincerity in my voice. He needed me standing in front of him, honest, open, and vulnerable. Guard down. That's what he wanted. "I'll be ready tomorrow."

* * *

Arriving at Simon and Warden the next day was unnerving. The bustling lobby welcomed me with all sorts of sounds: rustling paper, elevator hums, phones ringing, people chatting, but none of them could distract me from the contrast that meeting had created, the difference I felt compared to the unease that accompanied my original arrangement with Burgess. Just thinking his name made the bile rise in my throat. I could hear the pull of his belt buckle, feel his repulsive breath on my cheek, his greasy fingertips gliding over my thighs.

I stepped through the rotating doors and swallowed the bile down, gripping my shoulder bag tightly by my side. This meeting would be different. I'd redeem myself in the publishing world, walk away with something much better than what _he_ could have offered—just as Ryan had said.

Ryan.

My heart sank in my chest but I steeled myself and stepped into the elevator, asking the woman in front of me for the 10th floor. I'd set things right with him after this meeting.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal a swanky lobby and chic reception desk, the walls a deep burgundy, the carpets muted gray, a provincial gold mirror the focal piece behind the desk. I was immediately intimidated. Was I ready for this? Focused enough? It had been one hell of a week.

"May I help you?" A perky brunette greeted me, the phone receiver to her ear.

"Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Hall at two o'clock. I'm Kate Parker."

"Okay, certainly, Ms. Parker. Please have a seat and I'll be with you in just a moment."

The plush chair warmed my legs, and I sat twiddling my fingers, mentally mulling over what I'd say to Mr. Hall. From what Ryan had told me, he was already interested in the manuscript just the way it was, and the deal was practically in the bag. I'd sit back and listen to his concerns, his agenda, and tie up the meeting with any lingering questions I'd like answered before I signed anything. _Damn it. You should have written your questions down, should've prepared more._

Before I had time to mentally chastise myself any further, the double doors to the left of the reception desk opened and I froze, hearing a familiar, warm, throaty chuckle. A deeper, firmer laugh accompanied it, the sound echoing out into the lobby area.

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Ryan," the deeper, business-like voice said.

What? Ryan's here?

My heart jumped into my throat, chin lifted, eyes searching for him.

"Likewise, Bob. I really appreciate you squeezing me in and I look forward to—"

He stopped cold when he saw me.

I swallowed, eyes darting between him and Mr. Hall, unsure whether to stand and speak, to greet them both, or simply remain still and let them say their goodbyes. Ryan looked sophisticated and sexy, decked out in a finely cut charcoal gray suit and classic black tie, briefcase at his side. Accepting Mr. Hall's handshake, he stammered something unintelligible while he kept his gaze trained on me. I rose to my feet, clasping my hands in front of me, a vague ache churning in my stomach. I had to say something to him in passing, had to speak up. I missed him so damn much, and seeing him unexpectedly like this made me want to launch myself straight into his arms.

Bob Hall's eyes flickered toward me, following Ryan's gaze, a friendly, confused expression on his face as he released Ryan's hand. I hadn't realized my feet had carried me just mere inches from the two men until I was standing practically nose to nose with them, my lips parted, hesitant.

"Uh, hello, Kate," Ryan said, his expression indifferent, eyes distant. "Fancy seeing you here," he cleared his throat and swiveled his head to Mr. Hall. Fancy _what_? "Bob, this is Kate Parker, the former student of mine that was just signed with Porter and Whalen."

_Former student...come again?_ "What? Porter and—"

Mr. Hall's enthusiastic gasp startled me. "Ah, yes! Kate Parker, why Ryan here just informed me that Porter and Whalen snatched you up in the nick of time this morning, before our meeting today. A big congratulations to you, young lady. You're going to be working with a fantastic house, although I wish you would've given us a chance, you know," he let out that same deep, baritone laugh, giving Ryan a jovial pat on the back. "But this worked out great. Your appointment didn't go to waste after all. I was more than thrilled to fit Ryan in today to take a look at his work, and it looks like he'll fit right in here."

My lips twitched and I blinked, brow pulling down in confusion. Why would Ryan tell this man I'd signed over at Porter and Whalen? He'd blatantly lied to him? My eyes darted back to Ryan's for a brief second, but he gave nothing away. A fake, empty smile painted his face and the perky brunette receptionist tapped me from behind on the shoulder. It took me a moment to register that she wanted my attention.

"Um, I'm sorry, Ms. Parker—my apologies for interrupting, gentleman—" she glanced at the men in front of me, "but it seems we don't have an appointment for you with Mr. Hall at 2:00 today. It was canceled this morning by your new agent."

"I'm sorry?" I pivoted and glanced at her over my shoulder. "I don't have a new—"

"He canceled for you the moment you signed with Porter and Whalen this morning," she murmured, practically whispering, her head bowed. Damn. Were we in the presence of royalty or something?

"Huh. How about that. Great timing, right?" Mr. Hall gave the three of us a friendly smile, casually slipping his hands in his pockets. "Good thing you called when you did this morning, Ryan. Let me see the latest draft by noon tomorrow, okay? It's a pleasure, Kate," he extended his hand, glancing at his watch. "Best of luck with your career." With another friendly smile and loose handshake, Mr. Hall let go of my hand and excused himself, and the receptionist returned to the desk, leaving me and Ryan standing alone in the middle of the lobby.

My throat tightened as my eyes roamed the room in search of some kind of answer. Ryan's stiff posture and elusive gaze caused all color to drain from my face. Soft voices, cordial conversations, and the light buzzing of the office's phone filled the space around us, but all of it was drowned out by the blaring scream that stretched between us, unspoken yet perfectly audible and fine tuned. Finally catching his gaze, I locked my eyes with his in understanding.

He'd done this deliberately.

"Wow," my voice cracked. "That's...a low blow."

Ryan's jaw tensed and he lowered his chin, eyes darting up and around, anywhere but at me. "It is. I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt you, Kate."

"No..." I shook my head, backing up, moving toward the elevator. "You're not." I stumbled when I hit the wall, absentmindedly turning to hit the elevator button. "And yes...you did." He remained there in the middle of the lobby, gaze cast down, hands in pockets, jaw tight.

"Kate, listen..." his voice came out in a breathless whisper, and when his eyes rose to meet mine, the warmth, the sadness finally showed, peeking through the coldness, stretching outward to reach me, the muscles over his cheekbones taut and tortured.

"No," I turned to face the door, voice dry, shoulders limp. "I deserve it, right?"

"I didn't do this to burn you."

_Wow._ _That's just...wow._ I swallowed hard. "Right. I have to say, I'm shocked. This is....bitter. Really bitter, Ryan. This isn't you." The elevator announced its arrival with a shrill ding sound and the doors floated open. A woman stepped off and left me standing in front of an empty, gaping space. A hole to crawl into, one I'd desperately need in three...two...one...

"I'm happy you've stepped up to take what's yours. You deserve it. Well, best of luck with your debut novel." Stepping into the elevator, my fingers shot forward and met the garage button.

Ryan's hand caught the doors before they closed in my face, effectively managing to bump them open again. I looked down at my shoes.

"I'm just watching out for myself from now on," he nodded, carefully keeping his distance. _Smart man._ "I know that's something you can understand."

Stupid man.

Everything in me wanted to scream, hurl a thousand insults in his direction, attack back with some form of hurt that would leave him with the same pain he'd just inflicted on me. But he already had enough. Even in my pride, I knew this.

Straightening my shoulders, I lifted my chin and our eyes met. "Go ahead. Run. That's what you're doing, isn't it?" _Be mine, please. Don't run from me again._ His words came back to haunt me, stabbing me square in the heart.

Ryan dropped his hand and held my stare, rolling back on his heels to let the doors slide closed. The silence surrounded me and suddenly the last place I wanted to be was in a hole, enclosed and trapped. Instead of hiding, I wanted to breathe, soar, feel the wind envelop me in freedom. Wanted to go anywhere but here, anywhere but this beautiful speck on the map that I called home. But where to go? What to do? Only one thing could give me clarity, tell me exactly where I needed to be.

The atlas.

19. Room with a View

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, Kate. Take it easy," Carter tried catching my elbow as I paced back and forth in front of him, moving from the dresser to the suitcase on my bed. "This is crazy, this is...beyond crazy, even for you. I can't let you do this, a best friend does not let someone demolish her life over some asshole." A week had passed while I waited for my expedited visa to process, and Carter was still trying to convince me to rethink my decision.

"Carter, we both know he wasn't just some asshole. And I can assure you, this losing-my-mind thing isn't just about Ryan. It's about all of it—my life—everything. Please. Try to grasp that."

"So taking off across the globe is the answer to—your life? What about your job, school...shit, Kate. Stop and think!"

"Carter," I raised my voice, slamming my dresser drawer, swinging around to hold his gaze, begging, pleading for him to see the longing, my spirit. "Don't you get it? That's all I do. Think. I think so damn much I trap myself. Look where it's gotten me. For once in a very long time—possibly ever—I'm not going to think. This is my gut, my heart. I just know what I have to do. The atlas told me." I let out an exasperated laugh, turning to zip my suitcase and search my purse for my passport and wallet. After Ryan officially severed our ties at Simon and Warden, I'd come home and flipped open my mom's atlas to a random page, vowing to myself to go to whichever location I landed on. Carter was on the verge of stroking out. Hell, I was on the verge of stroking out.

"Oh my God," Carter slapped his hand to his forehead, eyes wide. "The atlas told you? So now this book of maps—" he reached for it from the nightstand and flipped through it frantically, waving it in my face, "it's a Magic Eight Ball? An oracle? An answer to the meaning of life? "

Still digging through my purse, I stopped cold.

"Hey," I said, softer this time, turning to tug on his hand and pull him in front of me. Tears brimmed my eyelids as I peered up at him. "I love you. Have I ever told you that? Like really told you?"

Staring intently at me, his voice came out small and winded. "You don't have to."

"Because you know. You feel it."

"Yes..."

"My lease is paid. I don't have to worry about rent...for a while. My time at the literacy center is up. I've felt it. When I was sure this book deal would go through...I was ready to leave but was still afraid, wanted to play it safe. They knew, okay? Not long ago I gave them a heads up I'd be leaving soon."

"That's logical, Kate. Normal. Smart. You. This," he tossed the atlas down onto the bed next to us, "I don't know who this girl is. You're scaring the shit out of me over here. After that night—"

"Don't." I put my finger to his lips, took a deep breath. "I'm stable. I'm not avoiding what happened to me and I'm not pretending that it didn't screw with my head, Carter. What I'm telling you is this thing with Ryan...and what happened to me that night...it all brought everything else to light—the reason I push people away, all the shit I've been avoiding. It's time to face it. This has all been a gift."

"A gift."

"Yes. You don't have to understand this girl you see standing in front of you. I'm sorry you're worried about me. But this girl is going to be okay. For once she's not going to run away from everything."

"You're going to the West Indies. With palm trees. And coconuts. Fruity drinks with umbrella straws."

Soft laughter shook my chest and I squeezed his hand, peering up at him with every ounce of genuine platonic love I could muster. "This time I'm running toward something."

"Rum and jellyfish burns?"

"Maybe," I giggled again, wiping my eyes. "I don't know yet. That's why it's a gift."

"Well," he took a deep breath and reached around me for the atlas, "let's make sure you catch that flight." Walking to my suitcase, he unzipped the top flap and slid the atlas inside. "The world is waiting."

* * *

Leaving my apartment key with Carter, I hugged him goodbye at the airport and made my way to my gate. Dean and Crystal were working, so I didn't get a chance to say goodbye. I missed them instantly. Our plane landed in St. Lucia at dusk, the customs guards and sweltering humidity welcoming us at the airport. A rusty old jeep with no air conditioner drove me up the mountain, slowing down only for a mongoose crossing alongside the rickety road. An old man passed by with his goat and a machete in hand, and smiled at me through the open window. You could see his soul in those eyes.

My room—if that's what it was called— at the Ladera Resort stole my breath and my equilibrium right along with it the second I arrived. Recovering my balance from the head rush brought on by the steep drive up the mountain, I shut the door behind me, dropped my bags and gripped my chest, in awe of the tree house of a room that surrounded me alongside a hilltop paradise. The volcanic Piton Mountains sat to the east, the Caribbean Sea directly in front, and holy shit—a plunge pool. My own plunge pool, with a waterfall, in my room. Sure I'd entered heaven on Earth, I raced across the dark tropical hardwood floors and searched for my phone, shrieking as I dodged beetles and winged insects at my feet. There were only three walls holding up the room, which was virtually open, the view a gaping, spectacular space that revealed a drop right offside the mountain. _Note to self: Do not drink fruity drinks with umbrellas and stand at the ledge of that drop. Do not do that._

I stared at the ledge a moment more and then the tangerine sunset, mesmerized. _Oh! The phone._ Remembering the task at hand, I rang Carter and sighed in relief at the sound of his voice.

"You haven't burnt down my apartment yet, have you?"

"Oh ye of little faith," his voice rustled, a dry, tired laugh. "How was the flight?"

"Good. Really good. I'm supposed to be at the school tomorrow at nine a.m. I'm so nervous. How's Dean? And Crystal, is she doing okay?"

"Kate. You've only been gone a day, woman. And don't be nervous, you're going to be just fine. You'll be great with the kids. You got this." A loud clang made me wince and pull the phone from my ear.

"Carter?"

"Speaking of Dean...and burning the apartment down..."

"Oh no."

"God help me. He's cooking. We made an arrangement. He's going to stay here while I'm at work and then I'll take over when he's gone. Just so someone is here as much as possible to look after the place. I'm getting ready to leave, actually." Another loud clang made me cringe. "Dean! Not that pan, man, use the other pot on the counter. Crap," his voice muffled, "he wants to talk to—"

"Kate, my love!" Dean's faux British voice replaced Carter's. Oh, Lord. I shut my eyes and settled into the loveseat, not quite ready to leave my shiny new inner-island Zen to tune into his kooky madness. Still, hearing him made me smile. "Have you had the pleasure of using one of those breathing-tube thingies yet? You know, that you swim with?"

"A snorkel?"

"Ah, yes! Jolly good, those snorkels. Well, have you?"

"Ha ha, no, Dean. I just arrived at the hotel, you know that. But when I use one, I'll certainly give you an update."

"Well, in the meantime, Carter and I have been discussing the matter of Ryan." This time it wasn't the clang of a pan I heard, but instead a messy smack—the contact of Carter's backhand with Dean's head, I presumed. "Just hear me out. You have options. I have an Italian uncle. He'll make sure Ryan is sleeping with the fishes by next week."

"Dean!" Unable to repress my amusement, my eyes flew wide and my grin grew.

"Either that, or we can go all Sweeney Todd on him and—"

"Oh, will you stop?" My laughter was crippling. "There will be no calls to your uncle and no trip to the barber shop—please, leave Sweeney Todd out of it. My business with Ryan is water under the bridge and I don't want to hear about it again, got it? At least not for three months." The reality of that statement hit me. How would I get by without my best friends for three whole months?

"Kate?" His British accent switch flipped off when silence filled the receiver, voice low and soft. "Are you sure...I mean, are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dean. I'm okay," I let out a long, slow breath, rolling my head back onto the couch pillow, fanning my raven locks out to run my fingers through them.

"Because it's okay to miss him, you know."

I waited.

"I do miss him...of course I miss him. I think....I miss him more now that I'm on the other side of the world. Thank you for asking."

After a few more updates and plenty of laughs, we hung up and I was left alone in the muggy, dark, tropical silence. A bat swooped down over the pool, nearly scaring the piss out of me. Turning on the lamp closest to the sofa, I stood and walked to the room's edge, dipping my toes in the pool. Gazing down over the slope of the mountain, the lush terrain enveloped me in sentiment, making me aware that this was a moment, this moment in silence, that I would remember always. My gaze drifted from the life down below out to the sea, the light breeze calling me to it with ethereal grace. Somewhere out there was an alternate me, one who never went to the gala that night, one who wasn't standing here amongst this beauty, wishing she had someone to share it with.

Sounds of the rainforest permeated the side of the mountain and pushed into my room, reminding me of the falseness of alternate realities and the honesty of the present. There was no room for anything else tonight. Only honesty. Only this. Ryan was gone.

* * *

"Nanette, this is Ms. Parker. She's going to be working with you from now on every morning before class. Well, what do you say?" Estelle, my new supervisor, introduced little Nanette to me, one of the students I'd be tutoring Monday through Friday.

"Hi, Ms. Parker," her soft little voice rose from the ground to meet me, her eyes cast down, flawless ebony skin beautiful in the morning sunshine. The brightness poured in from the classroom windows, while children chattered away, and old-fashioned chalkboard dust floated amidst the sunlight.

"Call me Kate, Nanette." I stood in the classroom doorway, my hands clasped in front of me, lips pressed tight. I always felt so awkward around children, never knew what to say. Kids were great, but the words always failed me for reasons I couldn't quite grasp. At the literacy center in Seattle, I was used to working with teenagers with learning disabilities, or adults who never learned to read and needed help finding employment. Bending down to come to her level, I extended a hand and decided to approach her as an adult. "It's very nice to meet you. I can't wait to start reading with you. Are you looking forward to it?" She gave me her tiny hand, nodding her head with a shy smile. "Good. I am too." Standing to my feet again, I turned to Estelle. "Where would you like me to put my things?"

She placed her hands on Nanette's shoulders and glanced around. "Oh, anywhere behind that desk will do for now. I'll show you around later this morning so you can see the lunchroom. And I'll check with administration about your living quarters. Last I heard, you won't need to stay at the hotel for long. They're just waiting for Nina to move her things out so you'll have a room at the apartment."

I smiled, recalling the hilltop heaven I left this morning to head to work. "I'm not complaining. The Ladera is breathtaking."

"Isn't it, though? Pricey, but worth every dollar, that's for sure." She kneeled down and quietly asked Nanette to take her seat, then led me out into the corridor. "Before you get started, I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am that you were able to fill in like this for us on such short notice. When we received your call, we were thrilled to have someone with your background. Usually we have to go through a lengthy process to find a new tutor, you know. Usually takes us weeks to hire someone and get them settled. And we were in quite the jam. What brings you all the way to St. Lucia? You seemed very eager to start as soon as possible."

We casually strolled down the hallway as doors closed around us and classes began. "Well, I'm very happy I could be of help, and I'm just as grateful that there was an opening like this. It really suits me perfectly. Thank you so much for helping me to expedite the visa process so that I could begin working right away." I cleared my throat. _Oh, the other question._ "I was—am—very eager to start. I admit I came here on a bit of a whim, but I don't regret it one bit." I looked down, the ache in my gut prompting a dull throb at the mere mention of what'd driven me here. "This is a temporary assignment, but a welcome one. Let's just say I needed a change of scenery."

"Oh? I see," Estelle smiled curiously, stopping to turn and rest her hand on my shoulder. "Well, we certainly need you." She gestured for me to follow her back toward the classroom and I tucked her words way deep down, tattooed them on my heart, certain she had no idea that I needed her, this position, much more than she needed me.

* * *

"Any word...from him?" I asked Carter, fixing myself a fresh salad in the kitchen.

"Uh, no, sorry Kate. I've seen him around campus, but we steer clear of each other..."

"Good."

"Good?"

"Yeah. Better that way, I guess." It had only been less than a week since I'd arrived in St. Lucia, but it felt like a year.

"Kate..."

"Carter..."

"Fine, if that's how you want to play it," he sighed through the phone, and I swore I could see his expression, as clear as if he were sitting right next to me. "So they haven't moved you into your apartment yet? You sure you're okay on cash? That place is a fortune."

I mixed some crisp sprouts into the wooden bowl, a blast of warm heat hitting my back from the room's cliff opening. "Yeah, it's okay. If I was worried about the cash, I wouldn't have picked this place. I budgeted the money to spend two week's worth on accommodations here, just in case they didn't have the apartment ready yet. My boss said it'll be ready Tuesday, so I won't have to stay much longer."

"Bummer."

"Ha ha, right? I wish you and Dean could see this place, Carter. There's literally no fourth wall in my room. I'm in the side of a mountain, with a cliff drop that opens up to a view of the ocean. It's surreal. We'll have to all come and visit together some day so you can see it for yourself."

"Uh huh...sure. Maybe when my student loans are paid, I can ditch Ramen Noodles for my main course, and our band gets a real record deal. Then, maybe..."

"Damn. That's depressing."

"Thank you, _Ms. Sunshine_ , spreading good cheer wherever you go."

"When duty calls," I smirked into the phone, well aware he could read my expression just as easily.

"Hmm, no wall. So what about bugs? You hate bugs."

"I'm making do. They're everywhere, but the bed has nets over it." As I tossed the salad, a bird flew into my room and landed on an end table. "Besides," I turned to stare at it over my shoulder, "the no-wall thing has its perks. It's not just the ugly stuff that makes its way inside." Keeping my eyes on the bird, I listened as he chirped a musical sound and stared back, tilting his head. "Anyway, I'm about to eat some dinner. Long day tomorrow and then I have to find out what to do for my first whole weekend off on the island." Plopping down at the kitchen table, I poured myself some wine, scaring the bird off. It zipped over the living room and then the pool, back out into the wild.

"Maybe you can pick up a new boyfriend, mon," his voice transitioned into an awful Jamaican accent.

"Carter, you are aware Jamaica is not the West Indies, right?"

"Can't you just let a man have a little fun?"

"Be my guest. Have a blast. But I'm going to eat my meal now."

"Okay. Call me tomorrow."

"Mmkay."

Setting my phone down, I sipped some wine and peered out to take in the view of a bright blue sky and a sun on the brink of sinking down behind the Pitons. Quick, quiet tears suddenly spilled over my lids and onto my cheeks. _All the life one wall's absence brings into this room._ It overwhelmed me, penetrating walls of my own, enticing the life behind them to brave its way through the rubble and seek its own spectacular view of the world. One with its own ocean and setting sun, signaling the promise of a future sunrise, another day. Picking my phone back up, I scrolled to Ryan's number and pressed "delete."

20. Pound of Flesh

"I can't," Nanette said to me, her tiny hands gripping the ends of the book with frustration. Every few seconds she'd peel the corners of the pages, then look up at me with the same question in her eyes. "Can we stop now? I don't wanna do this anymore." I exhaled and leaned back in my chair, then in again, crossing my arms on the end of the table to peer into her dark brown eyes.

"We can stop after this page, but you can finish this sentence. I know you can. You're doing so well and I'm so proud of you today. Do you know how far you've come in a week's time?" I slid the book closer to her chest and she kicked her legs under the table, swinging them back and forth, shaking her head. "Well, you've made me so proud this week and you're learning so quickly. Before you know it, you'll be reading this to yourself before bed time, just you wait."

Pointing to the last sentence, I nodded my head to encourage her and gave her a warm smile. "Start with this word right here, just this word. Sound it out like I taught you."

"I can't."

"Sound it out just as you have with the last five pages. Take your time, there's absolutely no rush, and I'm right here to help you."

"You'll make fun of me."

"Have I made fun of you yet? I have no reason to make fun of you. You're inspiring me, Nanette. Learning to read is brave. You're a very brave girl." Reaching out, I playfully flicked her braid with my pencil and coaxed a small smile from her. "When you want to learn, sometimes you have to take risks. Someone might laugh at you; your feelings might get hurt. But then you'll feel good because you were brave enough to try. Whether you pronounce the words right is not what will matter—not right now. What will matter is that you tried."

Her dark eyes found mine and held them for a moment before she scooted in closer to the table to look at the sentence. "But what if I mess up? Can't I just read it to myself in my head? I don't need to know how. Please, Kate?"

"You do need to know how. You can't just hide in the corner of the classroom and never learn because you're afraid to fail." I lowered my head and leaned in, whispering softly. "Pretend you're in a secret fort. A tree house. I knock and you invite me in. It's only me and you inside, surrounded by cozy walls and curtains, and we sit down to read together. We're way up high and no one can see us, only the birds and the squirrels climbing up the branches, peeking through the fort windows. And me, the birds, and the squirrels all get together and make a secret pact to never tell a soul if you can't pronounce a word. Think of us as a team, cheering you on, there to help you when you make a mistake, and there to give you great big hugs when we see you get it right. Nothing that happens here, during our reading time, will ever leave the fort." With a tiny nudge to her elbow, I gave her another warm, encouraging smile, then lowered my eyes to the book, waiting. "Trust me. Now, will you let me into the tree house?"

Her eyes darted to me, then down to the book. She hesitated, then her lips parted. "Be-be-beck...beck-uzz?"

"Very good. Because. Now, the next word."

We went on for another twenty minutes, word by word, her need to look at me for assurance lessening with each new word, until slowly, she finished the page without one peek in my direction.

* * *

Rushing into my hotel room, I dropped my bags and darted to the bathroom to shower. I had a half hour to dress and meet my coworkers at the resort restaurant for dinner and drinks. It was my first Friday night off on the island and my first time out with people from my new job. Knowing I only had a few months with them, I wanted to make the experience count and get to know them outside of work. There was Janine, the third grade teacher, a native islander; and Tanya, the principal's assistant, who I'd shared my lunch break with all week long. Both sweet, both not much older than me.

Smiling to myself as I mentally replayed the day's events and my time with Nanette in my mind, I rinsed and threw on a white halter sun dress and a pair of gold sandals. Grabbing my clutch and checking my makeup in the mirror, I dashed to the front door, stopping short when something hit the tips of my toes outside the doorstep. My fingers gripped the door frame when I saw the shiny, crystal globe atop a stack of papers. A paper weight of some sort. Slowly bending down, I picked up the globe, reaching for the globe pendant around my neck, rubbing my fingers over them both, swallowing hard. Feeling the weight of the crystal in one hand, I dropped the pendant from the other and turned my attention to the stack of papers, running my fingers over the front page. My knees met the wooden floor when I saw the words. A dedication. A familiar one.

To Jamie. Without you, this novel wouldn't have been possible. Without you, I wouldn't have found the love of my life. Without you, well... my life's a hell of a lot clearer. Thanks for everything, and for nothing. You don't even deserve this mention, but I do.

And to Kate. You are the greatest accomplishment of my academic career. The world is at your feet, just as I am, always and forever.

A soft murmur escaped my lips, my hand cupping my mouth as my eyes darted from side to side, searching the hallway. Grasping the doorframe with one hand, I pulled myself up, holding the globe and manuscript in the other. Feeling behind me to pull the door shut, the ring of my cell phone demanded my attention. I started meandering down the hall toward the restaurant, struggling to flip open my cell, thoughts scattering in a million different directions.

"He-hello?"

"Kate, where are you? We ordered you a drink but we didn't order dinner yet. Get down here, girl!" _Janine._ Her name barely registered as my gaze swept the lobby and the entrance to the restaurant. _What does this mean? What does he want? Why_ —

"Kate?"

"Oh, um...sorry. I'm here. Yes, I'm right outside. Be inside in just a sec."

"Okay, hurry! We're starved!"

I hung up and hesitated, before my phone rang out again and made me jump. _Oh, what now?_ Answering without looking at the caller ID, Carter's voice filled my ear.

"Kate?"

"Hey Carter, can I call you—"

"This really can't wait. Where are you right now? Are you back at the hotel?"

"Yeah, Carter, listen," I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes, "I'm about to head into this restaurant to meet some friends for dinner and something just happened—look, I'll call you back when I can think straight."

"Okay, but Kate—"

I hung up and turned for the restaurant door. Spotting Janine and Tanya at the bar near the back of the restaurant, I hurried toward them, shimmying onto the stool and nearly losing my balance.

"Hey, you okay?" Janine asked.

"Yeah, you look awfully flustered, girl," Tanya chimed in.

"I'm okay, I just..." I pulled the manuscript from under my elbow and plopped the globe paperweight on top of it, my eyes fixed on the crystal, the message before me. "Someone delivered this to me, but it wasn't in a package or anything, and he's my—was my—is my..." the tears started and I dropped my head into my hands. _Get a damn grip, Kate. You don't know what this means._

"Oh, honey...what is it?" Janine stood and came to my side, picking up the globe, scanning Ryan's name on the manuscript. I lifted my head and tried to speak, but a half sob, half erratic giggle interrupted me.

"Oh, sweetie," Tanya cocked a brow and stood to wave to the bartender. "We're going to need something stronger than this," she lifted her strawberry daiquiri and downed the last of it, ordering shots instead.

"Come on, girl, tell us. Who is this Ryan guy and what does he want with you?" Janine asked, flipping through the first few pages. Tanya scuttled next to her, eyes popping wide when she read the top page. Nudging Janine, she smoothed the page over the others and pointed to the dedication.

"Ah," Janine shook her head in understanding. " _Men_."

"Pppfftt. Look at him, all poetic." Tanya dismissed the page with a wave of the hand. "He burned you, I take it?"

"Of course he did," Janine answered for me. "Tssk."

"No. I mean, yes," I finally answered, pushing through the sobs. "But I burned him, too. I never trusted him, kept pushing him—"

"Is there a Kate Parker here?" The bartender's voice rang out, holding the phone to his ear. "Kate Parker?" Still hazy from the shock of my afternoon delivery, I turned and waved my hand, and he mumbled something into the phone, hanging up before walking toward me. "You're wanted down on the beach, miss."

"Sorry?"

"Someone just rang for you and asked you to head down to the beach." He must've noticed my mess of a face because he reached under the bar and pulled out a cloth napkin, then handed it to me with a kind nod. "You'll have to catch the shuttle out front. It's the last one for the evening."

"The person didn't give a name?"

"No, ma'am."

Who else could it be? I didn't know anyone else on the island.

"Okay...thanks," I blotted my eyes and cheeks and grabbed the globe and manuscript, turning to find Janine and Tanya staring at me, wide eyed and curious. "Oh my God. I think that's him...I think I need to go—"

"Oh honey, go! Go! Go!" They shooed me toward the doors, squealing and gabbing away behind me as they saw me off. _What will I say to him? What does he want with me? Why can't he let me grieve him in peace?_

None of that mattered now. He was here. I was still in love with him, and from the sound of that dedication, he was still in love with me. The love was there, just like the chemistry on our first date. There was no denying it, and once again, the circumstances surrounding it would have to work themselves out on their own.

A myriad of questions continued to swirl around in my head as the shuttle jerked to a stop and snapped me back to Earth. Slipping out of the bus, I hurried toward the ladder that led down to the beach, peeling my high heel sandals off to jet across the sand. My eyes roamed everywhere; left and right, then right again until I saw him.

He was more gorgeous than he'd ever been before, standing beneath a palm tree, the sun's rays cracking over the Piton Mountains behind him, filtering down and dancing over his bare shoulders. I drank in his blue board shorts and then his hips and abs, my eyes moving up to find tanned, sculptured cheekbones and a pair of sunglasses dipped low on his nose, the sun bringing out the blonde hues in his sandy brown hair. Wiggling his hands anxiously at his side, he scanned the perimeter, doing a double take when his gaze caught me from a distance.

I froze.

Lifting his shades, he raised a hand to shield his face from the sun, squinting to get a better look. The corner of his lips curled into a tight smile. We stood there, a stretch of uncertainty between us, heaven incarnate all around us, and all I could manage was lead feet, anchoring me into the sand, and a slack jaw desperate for words.

Then I decided.

"What are you doing here?" I called out, shielding my own eyes from the sun.

"You really have to ask that question?" he shouted back.

"What is it you've come to say?" Stumbling closer, I held up the manuscript, the pages flapping frantically in the wind. "I take it this is a murder mystery? You killed the ex-fiancée and thanked her in the dedication? Mighty dignified of you, I must say."

"Nah. It's a horror novel. But yeah, the bimbo dies in the end. Bob Hall says it's going to be a bestseller, so I figured I owed her some thanks for the inspiration." He edged a few feet closer, his smile spread from ear to ear. The glimmer in his eyes flickered toward the ocean, breaking our connection. He hung his head, licked his lips, then returned his eyes to mine, restoring the connection with an intense smolder. "Are you gonna get over here, or what?"

Letting out a soft chuckle, the tears began to blind me. "Make me."

Raising his eyebrows and tilting his head to the side, he dipped his hands in his short pockets and began a slow stroll toward me, eyes roaming over my body as he sauntered forward. "Is that a challenge, Ms. Parker?"

"Maybe. You'll regret it if you don't accept."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise, professor." Standing perfectly still, I waited for him to close the sandy distance between us, watched him walk with patient, easy steps.

Walking—it was a new fondness of mine, an incomparable joy when it involved this man coming toward me with an unhurried stride, allowing me to savor the final moments before his skin touched mine again, to see the raw affection in his eyes, and the depths of his unspoken apologies. He reached me and I peered up into those eyes, returning the same endearments with my own.

Strong hands lifted me up off the ground, fingertips grazing the material of my dress and over my lower back, the tips of my toes just barely dipping into the sand. The sea breeze stirred up a salty blast from the ocean and washed over and all around us, the palm tree branches above our heads rustling against its force.

Ryan's forehead to mine, he leaned down and burned me with my favorite golden eyes, pulling me to his chest. "Who knew Seattleites could tan so beautifully?"

"That's what you came all this way to say?"

"I'm an idiot. I fucked up. Bad."

"I know."

"Can you ever forgive me?"

"Kiss me and I'll decide." As fast as I could spit out the words, his mouth collided with mine, lips tasting of saltwater, tongue of mint and lemon.

"I need you, Kate," he whispered against hard kisses, gliding fingers through my hair and over my scalp. "Please make me the happiest man alive." He broke another kiss and dropped onto his knee. "Will you?" Pulling a box from his pocket, he popped it open. Feeling lightheaded, I gripped his shoulders to hold myself up. The rock was massive. _Mother of Mercy._

"Kate? I gave the university my notice, this is my last semester. I'm going to be Bob Hall's assistant. He didn't just sign me on with the house, he hired me. I told him you dropped the bullshit Porter and Whalen deal. He's ready to pick up your novel. Just say the word. You can keep your apartment, keep your job. I don't have to pay for a thing, please just come home, come home and let me love you. I'll do anything you want, I'll—"

"Ryan." I lifted his chin to stop his rambling. "I'll say yes under one condition."

"Name it."

I took a deep breath, contemplating whether or not to mention drowning his former bimbo brigade as a condition. _Tempting, but no._ "I don't care if I build the next Great Wall of China around me, knock it down. Break down every door and fight with me until you're blue in the face if it means bringing me to my senses. Forgive me for hurting you the way I have, and don't ever let me walk away from you again, because being this far from you has been almost as painful as the regret I feel for denying you the right to love me and the right to myself to be loved."

He blinked. "That's a clusterfuck of conditions."

"Take it or leave it."

"Oh, I accept the challenge," he slipped the rock on my finger and then rose from his knee and scooped me up, flinging me over his shoulder. "And I'm determined to show you just how committed I am to meeting those conditions."

He charged toward the beach ladder and up the incline to exit with me bobbing over his shoulder, the crystal globe and now-ratty manuscript dangling in one hand, and my sandals in the other. With squealing laughter, I allowed the last of my tears to fall away into the sand, and gave in to his direction—wherever he was leading me—for what felt like the first time since I'd met him. A strange, uncomfortable word bubbled up from my mental dictionary as he carried me over his shoulder, one most familiar to those who've faced transformation square in the face and welcomed it with vivacious spirit and upturned, open hands.

Surrender.

Epilogue

The morning sunlight illuminated the hotel room's natural paradise, bringing my eyes to a flutter, the bed's netted enclosure wrapping me in its dreamy cocoon. I stretched, arms searching for him. The other side of the bed was empty. Jumping when I felt the empty space, I sat up and pulled the sheet to my chest, eyes scanning the room.

"Why, Ms. Parker, I believe you're late for class." His voice came from across the room. Squinting in its direction, I peered through the white netting, pushing it aside to slip out of the canopy. Relaxed and focused on some paperwork, he sat at the small writing desk near the vanity, facing me, scribbling away with a pencil. He donned a smart beige suit, complete with tie and reading glasses.

"What's this?" I shuffled toward him sleepily, stopping when I saw his no-nonsense expression.

Reaching over to pick up a slice of orange from his breakfast tray, he pulled his gaze from the paper and directed it toward me, pulling off his glasses and setting them down.

"I said you're late, Ms. Parker." No smile, no hint of humor present.

"Um...Ryan...what exactly are you talking abo—"

"If you want the breakfast I've ordered for you here, you need to arrive to class on time." He glanced at the tiny alarm clock positioned at the corner of the desk and took a slow, enticing bite of the orange slice, face still cold, alluring eyes trained on mine. _Oh, for the love of Pete. Someone's been drinking too many rum runners._

"Ooohhhkay...I'm just going to go wash up, and hopefully, by the time I come back, you will have returned to planet Earth and—"

"Are you going to be a good student?" He raised a brow and pushed himself away from the desk, the wheels of the chair rolling loudly across the bare wood floors. A small smile finally tugged at his lips and he rested his hands gently in his lap, smoky eyes flickering with desire. "Come here."

I gulped. _Oh. So he wants to play, does he?_

"Oh Ryan, can't I at least brush my teeth first?" My hands planted on my hips, I stationed myself. I wasn't going anywhere near him until I brushed my damn teeth. My mouth tasted like road kill...if I knew what road kill tasted like.

"So you're opting for detention, then?"

"No, I'm opting for a damn toothbrush. Now hold that thought," I started for the bathroom door.

"You mean this one?" He held up my travel case, an I-dare-you smirk springing to his lips. "I said come here. Don't you ever obey your superiors?"

Putting on my best pout, I pushed through my need to control the situation and loosened my shoulders, strolling toward him with the same easy pace he'd used to meet me on the beach the night before. His eyes danced with amusement as I veered around the side of the desk to stand in front of him. _Why not? Humor the man._

"Well if you're threatening me with detention, I can make an exception and obey just this once." Reaching to trail my fingers over his knee, I gazed down and narrowed my eyes at him, giving him a coy smile of my own. "Will you forgive me for being late to class, Mr. Campbell?"

"That depends on your performance today," he slid his fingers up the sides of my legs and underneath my lace nightgown, hands gripping my hips to guide me forward.

"Oh?"

" _Mmhhmm_." He swiped another piece of orange from his breakfast dish and took a bite.

"And what is the assignment this morning?"

"No writing assignment. Today we're going to focus on sensory skills." He cupped my ass and shifted in his seat, positioning me tighter between his legs. "Starting with taste." Reaching up and running a thumb over my lower lip, he traced the corner of my mouth, then guided me down by my jaw, aligning his lips with mine. "Taste," he ordered, sliding the piece of orange between his teeth. Leaning in to capture it with my teeth and tongue, I drew a soft groan from him and he maneuvered me onto his lap. "Now feel," he murmured, sliding his hands higher and higher underneath the lace, around to the front to caress my breasts, sucking in a sharp breath as his fingers teased the curves. My body instantly responded, leaning in to meet his touch. "I'd like to make love to my beautiful fiancée now."

"Did I pass the obedience test?"

"Oh, 'A' plus, baby," he deepened his kiss and captured my moan before it could escape, moving to unzip beneath me. A distant thumping sound came from the hall, growing louder and louder until a doorbell sounded.

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes. "I know these rooms are over the top, but they have doorbells? I've been here a week and not once have I heard a damn doorbell."

Ryan released my lip from his teeth. "Uh...I was scolding you for waking up late for a reason. I was hoping we'd have time before—"

"If you like piña coladas!" _Singing._ Singing outside of the door. Oh, God, it could only be— "And getting caught in the rain!"

"Ryan!" I jumped off his lap, straightening my nightgown and fluffing my hair. "What did you do? Why didn't you tell me—you knew they were coming?" My voice reached an octave only dogs could hear.

He stood up and adjusted himself, leaning over the desk to let out a long, winded breath. "Who said it was 'they'?"

"Oh, please. That's Dean singing, and he never flies solo. He's lost without his partner in crime." Shaking my head at the sheer stupidity of these boys, I jogged around the desk and toward the front door. Swinging it open, I didn't care that I was in a skimpy nightgown. Couldn't care less that my breath could kill a small army from a mile away. These two geniuses were at my door, interrupting the beginning of the sexiest role play I'd ever had the privilege to try with my soon-to-be husband, probably stealing the best orgasm of my life right along with it. I was pissed.

The look on my face said it all.

"Well somebody's on the warpath," Dean greeted me, a bright yellow snorkel mask plastered across his face. "Good to see you too, Ms. Grump Fest. Personally, I'd be flattered if my best friends flew across the world to see me."

"Oh, don't give me that crap. I know Ryan paid for your airfare. You guys can't afford inflatable furniture, let alone tickets to the West Indies." I scoffed, the grin escaping before I could catch it and whip it back into submission. "Damn it," I pulled him in for a huge hug, snickering when I got a closer look at his diving get-up. "I missed you."

"You sure have a funny way of showing it."

Carter pushed in behind him, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose and peering down at me. He let out a sharp whistle, taking in my attire. "Well hello, mama."

"Hey, hey," Ryan came up behind me and playfully lassoed me backward, shooting Carter a warning and lifting my left hand to show off the ring. "Watch it, man."

"Oh whatever," Carter puffed, passing by us with his bags. "You guys go from crying a river and hating each other to getting hitched in what, a few weeks? I can't keep up with you two nutcases."

I eyed my favorite duo as they carried their bags in and shut the door. "So, what exactly is going on here? How are you guys missing work...and who the hell is watching my place?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Carter spat. Dean had found the pool and was hypnotized by the cliff view, moving on from his "Piña Colada" performance to a humming rendition of... _what is that_?

"Dean, are you seriously humming the _Jaws_ theme song?" I turned to face him.

"Um, yeah," he replied nonchalantly. "Do you have any idea how many sharks are out there, just swimmin' around, chillin', waiting to get their chompers on fine, unsuspecting tourists such as ourselves?"

"Um, we're not unsuspecting if we're suspecting they're out there. Whatever," I swatted the air, dismissing his craziness. "Now, what's going on?"

Carter made his way to Ryan's breakfast plate and popped some grapes into his mouth. "Crystal's watching your place. She's been working night shifts, taking the Rail so she doesn't have to drive to work. And we're only here for three days. We didn't pull a Kate Parker and quit our jobs, thank you very much."

"Okay," I shrugged, looking around the room. "So, what? We all get a vacation or something? I have to work Monday morning, you know."

"But you have the weekend off," Ryan grinned, leaning in to bite my earlobe.

"Yup," Carter winked. "And Dean had to restrain my ass in the cab to get me up this mountain, so we're having fun this weekend no matter what—preferably as far away from that ledge as possible." His eyes zoned in on the edge of the room and the colossal drop that accompanied it. "So, go get dressed and let's paint the town, kids."

"Can't argue with that," Ryan said, ushering me in front of him toward the bathroom. "But Kate and I need to shower first." _Oh thank God._

Leaving Dean and Carter to explore our tropical fairytale retreat, Ryan and I snuck off to shower and pick up where we left off, happy and blissful, in love and insane, on our way to better versions of ourselves, thanks to the debt paid to our fears, the memorial given to our insecurities, and a tardy class attendance on a rainy fall day.

Keep reading for more from Ryan's POV...

Ryan's Little Miss Tardy

There was that awful clunky, shuffling sound again. The most distracting sound—like a fucking herd of elephants. Wet elephants trekking through mud. I glanced to the door. _Her again. Figures._ "See me after class, Ms. Parker." My anger flared for a second, but then I grew bored. Really goddamn bored. I should have been happy. Hell, I should have been thrilled to have this teaching job. It wasn't half bad, really. Only it wasn't writing. It was watching all of _these_ kids, most of them not much younger than me, writing. All starry-eyed and hopeful, sights set on being the next Faulkner or McCarthy, while I yapped away telling them how to chase their dreams. Big dreams, nice dreams—naive dreams.

This distraction, the raven-haired beauty named Ms. Parker, was making a routine out of lugging all her shit into my class late every Monday. _If she can't make it to my damn class on time, she needs to look into changing her schedule._ Tardiness irked me to no end. Teaching these kids was boring, but it was all I had. Some punctuality would be nice. I looked to the clock on the wall while she mumbled some kind of incoherent apology. At least her fine ass was worth a glance as she made her way up to her seat. She bent over to drop her bags before sliding behind her desk, flipping her long, dripping wet, jet-black hair over her shoulder, slinking out of her coat like a damn cougar. I leaned back on the desk for a second to take in the sight. _Yeah. Definitely worth it._ All of my blood rushed south, straight to my pants.

Shifting off the desk, I returned my attention to the class, diving into my lecture with half-hearted enthusiasm. _Just look at them all._ _Watching me so intently, as if I hold the key to the Lost City of Atlantis in my hand._ A pang of pity and envy whirled around me as my fingers twirled a pencil, mimicking the movement of the jumbled up emotions swimming around in my gut. Catching Amy's stare in the third row, I dumped all those thoughts out the back door and instead zoned in on her killer rack and those wanton eyes she kept flashing my way. _Now that's a welcome distraction._ I'd be seeing her real soon. Things with Alisha were shot to hell, anyway. And Amy knew how to have a good time . She was wild in bed and we had an understanding.

At some point during my lecture, after droning on and on for what seemed like hours, my gaze landed on Little Miss Tardy. She was balancing her attention between her laptop screen and the notebook in front of her. Back straight, hands poised as she took notes, glancing up at me every few seconds with fierce focus—a crazed focus, as if her life depended on each word that came out of my mouth. _Well, look at that. Someone actually gives a shit._ I studied her for a moment, her mousy-brown eyes deep with some kind of need, a determination. Not the young, doe-eyed look every other student had when they listened to me lecture. Hell, some looked like over-caffeinated zombies on auto-pilot, only out for the grade. Some yawned or fell asleep. Little Miss Tardy was quite engaged. Attentive. _Not attentive enough to be on time, apparently._

Finally, time was up. Another class down. Time to take a breather and rendezvous with Amy in the gym locker room. I snatched up my paperwork and started filing it away as students shuffled out. Porcelain, snow-white skin flickered ahead of me out of the corner of my eye, the late hottie making her way down the steps toward me, that hideous bag slung high on her shoulder. _Shit. I have to take care of this first._

"Is this going to be a habit, Ms. Parker?" I turned and propped myself against the desk and folded my arms, admiring the fact that her skin looked even softer, all the more tempting up close like this. "Because I'm very fond of punctuality, in case you haven't noticed. It's high on my list of priorities."

"Yes, I'm very aware of that, Mr. Campbell." Her jaw tightened and she brushed wet strands of black hair behind her ear, deadpanning me. _Oh, she has some spunk, does she?_ "Mondays are really tough for me. I don't mean to cause a distraction."

"Well you do," I eyed her bag again, and then her soaking wet chest. I pulled my gaze upward to meet her stare. "You're very distracting. Are you carrying your kitchen sink in those bags? If you're living on campus and just trying to look like an overachiever, you should know that your charade is not endearing, nor is it going to drum up sympathy." Running my fingers through my hair, I straightened my jacket out, brushing off the coat's arms. She had a quiet edge about her, one that screamed 'don't fuck with me.' It was there in her eyes. Made me want to know her motives, what she was fighting so hard for beneath those sensual lashes and thick tresses of onyx hair. Whatever it was, bravo to her for giving such a damn.

"Excuse me?" Her eyebrows shot up, head tilting slightly.

Oh, yeah. Not to be fucked with.

"I'm sorry, how is what I carry in my bags any of your business?" she continued, her glare burning holes into my head.

"It's called dry sarcasm, Ms. Parker. Perhaps you should acquaint yourself with it if you're going to be taking my class." Straightening up, I pulled the pencil from my pocket and started twirling it between my thumb and forefinger, smirking inwardly. _Come on, baby. Let's see you really break out those claws._ "You didn't answer my question. Is this going to be a habit?"

"Wait—wait a minute." She looked as if she were calling on some higher power to keep her temper in check. My inward smirk made its way outward, settling into a content, satisfied expression. "For the record, I'm not living on campus—your sarcasm is dually noted. And as for your implication that I'm an overachiever, I don't appreciate you making assumptions about my character."

"So you're telling me you're not an overachiever."

" _Excuse me_?"

"And you are accusing me of assuming when I'm actually deducing."

"What..."

"Don't be late to my class again, Ms. Parker. That's all, thank you." Turning away and unbuttoning my jacket, I reached for my briefcase, resigned to let her stew over this. I could bask in the look she was giving me for days—it was that good.

The words that came out of her mouth next made me freeze, my briefcase dangling from my fingertips as I bent to lift it from the ground.

"Did you ask me to stay after class to chastise me for being late or to arrogantly insult me after you've already made a spectacle of me in front of the entire class?"

_Well, I'll be damned. She does have some fight in her._ _Sexy._ As much as I wanted to stop the smile from seizing my face, that desire was abandoned underneath the rubble of my amusement. "I was simply acknowledging your inability to make a graceful, punctual entrance with all that nonsense on your shoulders, that's all Ms. Parker. No insult was intended. And if you say you are not an overachiever, well...you're correct," I cocked my head, mulling the thought over. "That's none of my business." Tossing the pencil on my desk and strolling toward the door, I loosened my tie, wanting to stretch my own talons a bit, just for the hell of it. "Oh. And yes, I believe 'arrogant' is a suitable adjective for me. If you have a problem with that, how about you take it up with the dean?"

Winking, I eyed the pencil on the desk, my grin reaching epic proportions when I saw her eye it too, looking as if she were desperate to snatch it up and pluck my eyeballs out. _Oh, yeah. I dare you, Ms. Parker. I dare you._ Turning my back to her, I exited and took a deep breath, feeling oddly awake, more alert than I had been throughout the entire class. _Maybe it's time to end things with Amy. A change of pace might be nice. Especially if it involves a new sparring partner like Little Miss Tardy._

Ryan's Gem

My end-of-the-night swims were the highlight of my days on campus. Strolling through the gym doors and toward the pool, I slipped off my shirt and adjusted my trunk waistband, taking a deep breath at the pleasant thought of just me and the pool. No Alisha, no students complaining about their grades, no eye rolls from Amy because I told her I was done screwing her. Nothing but—

_Shit. Parker._ Kate Parker to be exact, the saucy hot one from my a.m. class. _What is she doing here?_ She was finishing a lap, turning to rest at the edge of the pool, elbows on the ledge, eyes locked on mine _._ I drank in her bare shoulders and perky breasts. _Double shit. I'm screwed. Have to have her._ The soft sounds of lapping pool water and the shuffle of my flip-flops on the tile called my attention to the rest of the room, realizing no one else was around. I glanced from left to right, nodding to the lifeguard who was preoccupied, talking with a friend.

When I made eye contact with her again, she'd looked down, started to fumble with her goggles. _Huh. Flustered, are we, baby?_ My stride slowed for a moment and then I straightened up, hell bent on walking straight toward her. _Not this one, Ryan. Leave the girl alone._ I hunched down to meet her at eye level.

"Um, hi..." she muttered, looking lost.

"Ryan."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure..."

"What are you doing here so late? I'm always the last one here."

"This is my routine," she stammered, gripping her goggles tighter, eyes darting everywhere, landing on my tattoos. "But I'm usually gone by now. I stayed a little longer tonight. Needed some time to think." She peered up at me through those long, thick lashes, and I thought I could swim in those eyes; eyes like dark, luscious chocolate. The drinking kind that you sipped slowly. I grinned down at her and then glanced over my shoulder toward her chair, checking for signs of any company—hopefully no chump boyfriend or jealous female students around to witness this. I cleared my throat and scanned the perimeter behind her.

"So...you swim often?" her voice called me back to her soft, wet curves, all tucked up in a sexy, black racerback suit.

"Yes, it's my routine, too. Especially on Mondays and Wednesdays. After my afternoon classes I get to go home for a few hours, but then I have to be back for one night class. Then I come here afterward."

"We must miss each other by less than an hour, then."

"Looks like it. You come with anyone?" I slipped into the water next to her, relieved when she shook her head. "You have an almost perfect stroke. Were you on a team or something?"

"When I was a kid, yeah. Almost perfect? What does that mean?" She glanced behind me and shifted to lean back against the pool wall with a smooth chuckle, the velvety feminine sound doing all sorts of crazy-good things to me. I slid a hand underwater to adjust myself.

"I meant exactly what I said—it's almost perfect. I saw you finishing up when I came in. Your shoulders are too tight, you need to loosen up. I bet you'd benefit greatly if you learned to loosen up." _And I could show you how._ _At your service, baby._

"Hhhmm. Don't believe I asked for your opinion, Mr. Campbell."

"We're back to last-name basis now, are we? Okay, Ms. Parker. Just trying to call it like I see it. You'd enjoy it more and you'd get a better workout if your stroke wasn't so tight, that's all." I started to stretch, liking where this was going.

"How about we stick to talking about writing?"

Damn. Not liking where this was going.

Little Miss Tardy made it clear the few times I'd talked to her in class that she wasn't like the others, who normally rolled out the red carpet and gave me the green light the second they were alone with me. She seemed more like a perpetual yellow light. And something told me she was borderline trigger-happy red. Still, damned if I wasn't going to try. I wanted to taste those lips. And her writing was smart. Really fucking smart. I couldn't stop thinking about her work since she let me read it. _Think of something quick, man._

I moved in closer.

"I think that's an excellent idea. But first, promise me you'll try this. You'll feel the difference, I swear it." She stood still as I positioned myself at her side, just behind her left shoulder, and tensed up slightly when I gripped her elbow. "When you roll your shoulder, just let it roll in one fluid movement when your body shifts." My eyes rested on her full red lips and fine China skin. Slowly and evenly, I pushed her shoulder down and then around, gently pulling on her arm, watching her committed focus with admiration. Damn, she really was beautiful. Like some elusive, rare diamond. And so intent on getting it right. I skimmed my thumb over the crease of her elbow, studying her graceful strength and the way she yielded to my instruction, wondering how accurate the accounts were in her short story. _Was she really abused by some druggie asshole boyfriend? Who would do those things to this gorgeous, gentle woman? And was her dad really in jail? Did she really leave home as a kid when he—_

"Like this?" she stirred my thoughts, repeating the motion. The brush of her skin on mine made me shuffle closer, her body responding with a warm flush under my touch. Pleased by the pink color spreading over her skin, I leaned in, nudging her earlobe with the edge of my nose, feeling her shiver. The slight tilt of her head encouraged me forward, her eyes shutting briefly when I grazed my lips against her hair. I let my hands slide slowly down over the curves of her hips, latching onto them as she mimicked the technique again.

"Yeah, exactly like that."

Her eyes immediately found mine over her shoulder.

I sucked in a quiet, shallow breath, my fingers twitching against her hips. _Ask her about her writing, damn it. Ask!_ I couldn't look away. No words could find their way to my lips. Those eyes gave it all away—and yet held a thousand secrets. They sliced through me so deep, I was sure she could see the monumental mess of a man I was; the deepest, darkest parts of my heart. I swallowed hard and dragged my gaze from hers, stumbling back against the pool wall, suddenly irritated I'd been objectifying her like the other chicks I'd screwed around with. She was too good for me. Too good for this bullshit I was trying to pull. And if her writing was any indication, way too bright to let some dick like me take advantage of her.

Suddenly that was the very last thing I wanted to do.

Just as quick as I weighed those thoughts, she started for the ladder. "I'll try that next time I do my laps. Thanks, I better get going."

I didn't turn around; just stood still and listened to her snatch up her things, the rustle of her keys. "Good luck with your short story, Kate." _It's brilliant. Intelligent. Honest. Like you._ I chanced a peek at her. She looked hesitant, bag over her shoulder, body turned toward the exit, eyes meeting mine.

And there it was—mutual attraction. Conflict. Everything in me wanted to scream, _don't look at me that way, honey. I'm a committment-phobe man whore. Run while you can!_ Instead, I met her with a wry grin and a nod. What else could I give her besides a fun night? Hell, like I'd let her give _me_ anything more. I glanced down at my tattoos. It's not like I did relationships. Not anymore, not since Jamie. Casual, meaningless hook-ups were my style now. My terms. No bullshit.

"Thanks, Ryan. I'm sure it won't be the last you'll hear about it. I'll keep you posted." She gave me a faint smile and turned for the exit, my gaze following her. A precious gem like that deserved someone who could give her the world, who appreciated her authenticity; a scarce kind of beauty, in my experience.

And I wasn't that man. Not yet, but it sure as hell was something to aspire to.

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