CHAPTER 15

Samantha:

I almost miss my alarm when it goes off at 7:30. Forty-five whole minutes earlier than it used to, back in my pre-Gavin era. I’m hoping to butter him up and talk him into carpooling to campus. I spent the weekend replaying the moment I walked in him taking matters into his own hands Friday night. Which was, unequivocally, the sexiest—and most embarrassing—thing I’ve ever seen.

I was lying in my bed, trying to sleep, but I was unable to stop thinking about our kiss. Then I heard him call my name. I feel a twinge of embarrassment even now, three days later, just remembering how naïve I was about why he was calling my name. I thought maybe he regretted running off after Robby walked in on us and wanted to talk, or maybe he’d want to make out some more. I never considered the possibility that I would find him in the position I did.

Except, now with three days’ worth of perspective under my belt, I’ve had plenty of time to reason over the fact that if he’d wanted something innocent, he likely would have come back into the living room, not called to me from his bedroom. But it wasn’t until after I fled the room that night, almost knocking myself out on the doorframe in the process, that I realized the implication. He’d called my name on reflex. Because he’d been thinking about me—while he was handling his business. Abby was right. Gavin is so into me. That knowledge gives me new confidence. I’m feeling emboldened, ready to show him how good we could be together. And I’m formulating a plan.

Step One: talk him into driving me to and from campus four days a week and dropping me off at work on the way home. I haven’t thought through how I’ll get home from work since my car will still be here at the apartment, but it’s a minor detail I shrug away. I can cross that bridge when I come to it. Maybe Sarah can drive me home or something. Knowing her, she’d agree to walk me to my door, too, just for the chance to see Hot Robby. So, I have options.

But I overslept today, and now Step One is a bust; the apartment is empty when I pull back the privacy curtain Robby hung for me and step out of my alcove “room.” Twenty minutes later, I’m fully dressed, fully made up, and fully ready to face the day—and Gavin. But he’s not here. His bedroom door is wide open, I notice on my way to the bathroom. His bed is unmade, but everything else is tidy.

Gavin’s decor is sparse, minimal and clean. A fact I failed to notice last night when I was in this very room. In my defense, I’d been pretty distracted by his gorgeous cock and the show he put on, cumming right as I’d opened the door. Between that and almost knocking myself unconscious, I didn’t really have much opportunity to take in the contents of his room. Today, though, there’s nothing here to distract, and I let my eyes linger around the room as I peer in from the doorway. His style is a sharp contrast to my possessions, which are mostly rose-gold or sparkly, or both, and have almost overflowed the tiny nook at the end of the living room.

Robby’s door is open, too, and I pass the bathroom and continue down the hall to peek in there, not that I think Gavin would have any reason to be in my cousin’s bedroom. But because I’m hoping Robby is there and I can casually question him about where our other roomie might be. But Robby’s room is just as empty as Gavin’s, far more cluttered, but just as unoccupied. I sag in defeat and head back to my alcove to gather my things. Looks like I’m driving myself to school today.

I don’t necessarily rush through what’s left of my morning routine, but due to my early rising, I’m out the door and off to campus far earlier than normal. When I get there, the hallways are considerably less crowded than at my usual arrival time. Most of the students must be late arrivers like myself. I don’t bother to stop off at the café for my usual morning latte on my way to the classroom today. Who has that kind of time to waste when the hottest teacher to ever grace Archer Hall is waiting? Okay, student-teacher, but still the hottest.

I do, however, stop to check my appearance several yards from the classroom door. My thigh-length white skirt is straight, and my navy blouse with a slight ruffle around the hem shows just the barest hint of midriff. My bun has just enough fly-aways to hopefully make for a messy cute look. After a quick breath check, I head for the closed classroom door and reached for the knob.

Locked.

I peek through the glass and spy a different teacher and a room half full of students I don’t recognize. I guess there’s a class before mine. Even though the whole room isn’t visible through the narrow window, I’m pretty positive Gavin is most likely not in the room. Settling in to wait, I lean against the wall and pull out my phone to text Abby.

Me: You up yet?

Her response is almost instantaneous, which is to be expected since Abby is practically surgically attached to her phone.

Abby: Just getting my coffee. What’s up?

Me: I’m early. Am hoping to see Mr. Hotness, but he’s not here yet.

Just as I hit send, a shadow falls across me, and I look up. Right into Gavin’s gorgeous green-not-green eyes. Did he see the message I just sent? My cheeks heat, but I almost hope he did see.

“Hey,” I say lamely and tucked my phone into the waistband of my skirt.

“Hey,” he returns. These are the first words we’ve spoken to one another since I caught him in the act, and it’s about as awkward as I expected it to be. Never mind that my gaze keeps darting to the crotch of his gray slacks. Now that I know exactly what he’s packing, I can’t get the image out of my mind. I do my best to avert my gaze respectfully, but I suspect he noticed the direction of my attention because he shifts his weight uncomfortably.

After several moments of stiff silence, he moves past me and looks through the window. I sneak a peek around him and am relieved to see the students packing up. A moment later, the door opens and a steady stream of students flows into the hall, followed by the other professor. Gavin takes the door from her as she exits, then holds it open for me. “Last Monday you were late. Today you’re the first one here.”

This is my chance to put myself out there. I can chicken out, or I can polish my brass lady balls and let it all hang out. “Actually. I was hoping to talk to you. I didn’t see you…” I glance around to make sure no one is within earshot before continuing, “at home. So figured I might as well try to carve out a few minutes to chat here.”

I’m letting him off easy. He stayed away from home most of the weekend, leaving before I woke up and coming home after I was asleep—if at all. But we needed to face this and have an actual conversation, or this whole, avoidance thing was going to stretch on forever. I don’t know about him, but I don’t want to have a roommate I never see and specifically never talk to. Especially one I’m so attracted to. Heat creeps into my cheeks again, and I rush past Gavin into the room so he won’t see me blushing.

“What did you want to talk about?” His tone and his expression are wary, like he’s worried I’m going to say something about Friday night. But I’m nicer than that. For now.

I decide to put him out of his misery and get straight to the point. “I was wondering if maybe I could talk you into letting me ride with you to and from campus from now on.”

He considers me thoughtfully, as though he’s trying to determine if I’m serious… or maybe he’s trying to figure out if it’s safe to spend that much time alone with me.

It would definitely not be safe if I had my way. “Maybe it will help me be on time.”

He looks unconvinced. “Turning over a new leaf, are we?”

“I guess I have new motivation to be on time.” Okay, so maybe I’m getting better at this flirting thing. That wasn’t half bad.

“Developing a newfound love of Anthropology, are you?” His tone is amused.

“Something like that.” I drop my backpack off at a desk in the front row, but instead of sitting there, I go to his desk and settle into his chair like I own it. I cross my legs, lean back, let my arms hang over the armrests, and spin in his direction. He’s standing several feet away, in the middle of the room, like he’s scared to come any closer.

“What are you doing, Samantha?” Instead of censure, his question only holds curiosity. He’s calling me Samantha now? I must be really getting under his skin.

“Sitting.” I smile up at him, doing my best to effect a look of innocence.

He takes a few steps forward so that he’s standing at the edge of the desk. “I can see that.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “What are you really doing here, Miss Martel?”

Miss Martel? I used to be Sam. A moment ago, I was Samantha. Last week, I was sitting in his lap with his boner pressed against my thigh. And just a few nights ago, I walked in on him yanking it after he called my name while doing it—And he certainly wasn’t calling out Miss Martel. Now, I’m Miss Martel? Maybe I’m overstepping—maybe I’ve completely misread the situation and he’s committed to avoiding me. Maybe I should stop messing around before I really embarrassed myself. But before I can answer his question, my phone chimes the arrival of a message from Abby.

Gavin watches me with a guarded expression as I lift my shirt to retrieve my phone from my waistband and read Abby’s message.

Abby: Go big or go home.

Her words give me new courage, and I use it. “What? I can’t visit my new favorite teacher before class?” I used my softest, smoothest voice and look up at him from under my lashes.

Now it’s his turn to blush, but he doesn’t try to hide his embarrassment. Instead, a slow smile spreads across his face. “Favorite teacher, huh?” He takes a step closer and sits against the edge of his desk in front of me. We’re so close that I could reach out and set my hands on his thighs if I dared to be that bold. And I do dare.

“Mm-hmm.” I swivel the chair so that my leg touches his, and he uncrosses his arms and sets his palms flat on the desk, his fingers curling over the edge of the desktop near my leg. His fingertips are mere inches from my knee.

“I didn’t realize I was such an… inspiring instructor.” His voice is low and deep and full of interest. He’s flirting back, I realize.

“I feel like I could really learn a lot from you.” I tickle my fingernails over the fabric of his slacks.

His expression heats, and he takes a moment to survey me from head to toe. I sit patiently and let him look his fill. “Is that so?” he asks in a low, sultry voice, and the words sounds like a caress, rolling off his tongue like the softest of kisses. I close my eyes, reveling in the slight flurry of excited butterflies and the images conjured by that bedroom voice, images of him speaking far more intimate words into my ear as he holds me against him. When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me with an unreadable expression.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the classroom door opens before he can. He jumps away from me as a handful of students enter the room, Abby among them. She eyes us curiously, probably trying to sort out what could have been happening when she walked in. Then she smiles brightly and walks past Gavin’s desk slowly, rubbernecking to keep her gaze on us the whole way.

Disappointment sits like a stone in my stomach. I was hoping we’d have more time alone together before my classmates began filing in. I reluctantly get out of his chair and head for my desk where I slink low in my seat and settle in for a long sulk.