Crazy in Love - Lane Hart Page 0,6
warm, caramel eyes searing into me from across the room while the EMT checks my pulse and whatever else. Despite how many times I’ve told them I’m fine, they insist that they need to transport me to the hospital where I can receive antihistamines and steroids under the care of a physician.
Fucking great.
Knowing better than most the instantaneous way news travels in today’s world, I imagine a video of my embarrassing allergic reaction is already making its way around social media. Tomorrow, I’ll be the laughing stock of not only the entire student body of Madison University but the rest of the world, all because I stupidly tried to be suave in front of one of my students. A beautiful student who I have no business thinking about, other than the grade I’ll give her on her research paper and final exam.
This must be Karma’s way of paying me back for having…less than pure thoughts about a girl in my class. It’s also a reminder that, as a professor, and a recently separated man on top of that, there is no possible reason under the sun for why I approached her outside of the classroom. Or why I agreed to sit down at a table with her. Or, in the stupidest attempt at seduction ever, I picked a piece of tomato from my shirt and popped it into my mouth, not knowing that it had been in contact with the one and only food I’m deathly allergic to – pineapple.
Despite how frightening it felt when I was unable to get any oxygen into my swelling throat, I sort of miss the way Reagan’s arms felt around me and the worry in her eyes before I could inhale air again. Even now, knowing it’s wrong, I silently beckon her closer while I continue to watch her from across the restaurant whispering to her blonde friend, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. The urge to be near her, to touch her, is even stronger today than any of the other days since I first saw her. She effectively ended my marriage before she ever walked into my classroom, not that she or anyone else knows that. Now, my fingers are practically twitching with the need to feel her warm skin against my own. I am so fucked.
My trembling hands could just be the side effects of the epinephrine shot. My heart is pounding so fast it’ll likely give out. I’m also sweating like a pig, which is giving my dress shirt lovely pit stains, and I may very well throw up the chimichanga I just ate.
“All right, we’re all set,” the young, beefy EMT with a crew cut says as he stands before my chair, chomping his gum loudly with his hands resting on his hips. “Are you gonna come quietly, or will we have to nail you with a tranquilizer?” he asks with a smirk.
“I’ll come quietly,” I say on a sigh, anything to get away from this disaster caused by nefarious intentions gone wrong.
“The pretty little hippie wants to come along, too,” he tells me when I get to my feet, making me temporarily lose my balance. He must be talking about Regan. I’ve noticed in her writing assignments this semester that she’s an earthy liberal who wants to save the world of all its injustices. It’s sweet, yet a little naïve. Poor girl is gonna get trampled in the real world.
The tech places a hand on my back to keep me steady which makes me feel like an even bigger wimp.
“She your girlfriend?” he asks.
“God no,” I quickly reply to his question and jerk away from his assistance as we cross the bustling restaurant filled with gawkers to approach the two women.
“Well, in that case,” he says quietly. “I’m gonna try and work a phone number out of her. You know what they say about the quiet ones, right?”
“No,” I say, either in response to his question or in opposition to this sack of shit screwing over a sweet, innocent girl like Reagan. I’m not sure which.
“Freak in the sheets,” he leans over and whispers to me when we’re standing a foot away from Reagan and her friend.
“Watch your mouth,” I tell him sternly, causing the ladies to stop mid-sentence in their conversation to look up at us in surprise. “So,” I say to Reagan and then have to clear my throat. “Thanks for, well, you know.” Wow, I’m about as smooth as sandpaper.
“I didn’t do anything. That lady