Can’t keep it in his pants. I recall a morning when I walked in on her in the laundry room with my dad’s shirt clutched to her chest as she picked at the lipstick there. But the biggest, most awful part? I watched him come out of a former teacher’s house and give her a passionate kiss once. He never saw me, and sometimes I wonder if I’d said something, maybe things would have changed. Perhaps. Perhaps not. I was only twelve and terrified my parents’ marriage was over, but that same night he sat down to dinner with us as if nothing was amiss.
And when Ma brought him pie, he pulled her close and kissed her.
Beautiful men with enough charm to win over a nun are trouble. It’s why I pick the nice quiet ones; it’s why I have my rules.
Ryker’s moaning brings me back. His hands cup her ass.
“Geeze, guys! Your bedroom is literally down the hall.” Grabbing my coffee and the cinnamon roll, I flounce out of the kitchen and go to my room.
“Sexy mama, gimme a bite!” greets me as I walk in.
I snort at Vampire Bill. “Ah, you can be sweet. Sorry, dude, this bun might make you sick. How about a celery stick? They’re in the fridge, and we both know I’m not gonna eat them.”
He cocks his head. “No!”
I rub his head. “Smart bird.”
Later that day, I head to my appointment with my advisor in the fine arts building, a huge modern structure full of classrooms and personal student studios. I spent a lot of time there last fall, prepping my portfolio. Waylon has one of the best graphic design programs in the country, which was a deciding factor in me coming so far south to attend college.
“Charisma! So wonderful to see you,” says Dr. Alfonsi as I walk into his office. A handsome man in his fifties with a broad grin and gray at his temples, he’s elegant and stylish in an expensive, well-tailored suit. He’d fit right in at a street cafe in Rome sipping a morning espresso.
He’s from the Bronx area, and when he saw my hometown on another professor’s advisee list a few years ago, he traded to get me on his.
He gives me a smile and indicates I should take a seat. “You must come to dinner soon. Anne and I have a pre-med student you should meet. I never brought him up before because he was seeing someone, but not anymore. He comes from a good family in Brooklyn—”
“Don’t start with the matchmaking, Dr. A. I’m over guys right now.”
In the past, he’s asked me over for dinner and then a “nice young man” shows up and joins us. One was gay, one picked his nose, and one asked to borrow money from me. I usually go along with those setups because, well, Anne is a great cook, and the food reminds me of home.
He frowns, the deep lines on his forehead creasing. “Is something bothering you, dear? Has some young man broken your heart?”
I sigh, not going there. What would I say? The hottest guy on campus left me for an upgrade? “I’m fine, but Prescott canceled my internship this morning.”
“Oh, no.” His brow knits, and I guess I should have smiled more when I walked in the door, but it’s hard to pretend when this new semester, new you thing isn’t working for me no matter how many pep talks I give myself.
“I’m sorry, dear. You look terribly unhappy. Let me know if I can write you a new letter for any applications. I’ll do some checking to see if I can find some open spots, but odds are it will be tough.”
I sigh. “I know.”
He takes my schedule from my hands and looks it over. He’s wearing a smile when he looks up at me. “This lineup of classes will put you to sleep, Charisma. Come on, spice it up a little. Let’s switch one of these out for something exciting.”
“Just a few easy classes and I’m out of here.”
Sayonara Waylon, sayonara Blaze.
He glances down at the paper and taps his chin. “I’m thinking you need a humanity elective. How about Social Psychology 410 with Dr. Cartwright? He’s very entertaining. No pillow required.”
A tingle of excitement hits. “Oh! That class is legendary. Rumor is you need special pull—or you have to be an athlete.”
He smiles. “You have pull with me, and Dr. Cartwright owes me. Would you be willing to take it?”