Decker’s eyes burned me up. He was taking in my words with gnashing teeth and an angry scowl. “That's not really going to work for me, Blakely,” he seethed before cupping my cheek. “I want the labels. I want expectations. I want this to feel permanent, because even though you’re probably assuming the worst in that beautiful, brilliant mind of yours, I’m not. I’m assuming that you’re it for me, and now I have to figure out how this is going to work.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt declaration, but my soul seemed to settle a bit at his words. “I want to figure it out, too,” I finally whispered.
“You know what I love about the scientific process?” Decker asked. It was so out of the blue that I felt emotional whiplash. One second he was declaring something that had me envisioning a future with him, and the next he was talking about school.
“No?” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this change in the conversation.
“The trial and error,” he began. “Let’s try. I mean really try. A day at a time. A month at a time. A year at a time. Let’s do what we’re doing until it doesn’t work anymore, then try something else. But know that you aren’t some classroom experiment for me. You’re not a theory or a test. Being with you is like discovering all the secrets of the universe. I just want to treat you like the precious truth you are, Blakely Stewart.”
Tears welled up in my eyes at his words, and I pressed my palm to his chest just to feel the beautiful, glorious heart beating beneath it. “Let’s try, Mr. Harris,” I conceded.
“Let’s try, punk.”
26
Decker
We got back to Memphis late Sunday night, and I snuck into her bedroom while Lance was blissfully unaware and asleep down the hall. I felt like an addicted dick, prioritizing my need to hold her twenty-four-seven instead of our promise to try keeping things between us a secret.
Worth it. It was so worth it. I’d never slept so well. She slept soundly, reaching out in the middle of the night to touch my bare skin. It was like even in her dreamy state, she craved being near me. I could relate to the desire.
I watched her as she softly snored, like a total creeper. I held her close when she whimpered lightly in her sleep, then felt her body soften and relax when I pulled her close. That citrus smell I loved was comforting as I breathed her in and drew circles with my fingers along her spine.
And since Lance had to leave for work early, we got to get ready together in mock-normalcy. I watched her slip on her uniform and rub lotion on her supple skin. She brushed her long, blonde hair while staring in the mirror. When she applied lip gloss? I grew so fucking hard I had to leave the room. It was mundane but sensual. I never wanted or valued something more.
I brought her coffee and read emails as she caught up on homework, our eyes kept finding one another across the table as she ran her foot up and down my leg. I slowly drove her to school, wanting nothing more than to drive around and hold her hand, but instead parked a couple blocks away. She kissed me on the cheek with a lingering press of her lips, those long eyelashes of hers tickling my cheek.
And I didn’t really believe in perfection. Maybe it was the scientist in me; I thought that everything could be improved upon. We were hardwired as intellectual beings to search for the best, but for once in my life, I didn’t feel like ripping apart the hypothesis of our relationship and scrapping it.
Blakely Stewart was perfection.
Today was perfection.
Maximillian Fucking Hemsworth, however, was not.
That preppy dick walked her into my class and gave me a smug grin that had me reaching for the pop quiz on my desk. I knew he was probably a good looking guy. He had charm in spades and was persistent as fuck. I didn’t even care that he had suspicions about Blakely and me. I wanted him to know.
I’d fail the motherfucker, I really would.
“Have a seat,” I instructed well before the bell had rung, mostly because Max was sitting on Blakely’s desk and twirling her hair on his finger. She blushed and swatted him away, but it was too damn playful for my liking. Come on, babe. Kick him in the balls.
I knew I was glowering at him, and I didn’t have a right to. Blakely promised me exclusivity, and I had to trust that. But I still didn’t like the asshole, and being a jealous bastard was in my blood. “I hope everyone had a good weekend. Today we’re going to discuss the genotypic ratio. Who can tell me what that is?”
Taylor’s hand shot up as she blurted out the answer. “It’s the pattern of offspring distribution according to genotype.” She looked smug, but I couldn’t be mad, because she was right.
“Correct. The genotypic ratio describes the number of times a genotype would appear in the offspring after a test cross.” I made my way over to the board while explaining, then hurriedly wrote an example down just so I could turn back to watch Blakely write in that adorably enthusiastic way. She always had her teeth sunk into her lip and her eyes focused on the page.
But then I spun around, and I caught Max looking down at his crotch like a grinning idiot, and I knew he was texting on his phone. “Mr. Hemsworth, please bring your phone to the front of the classroom,” I said in a booming voice, practically feeling giddy at the prospect of crushing him in my fist.
Max rolled his eyes as he walked to the front of the room. He handed over his iPhone with a huff, and I started reading from the screen. My teeth gritted in frustration when I realized that he was writing a text to Blakely.
“From Max: You look pretty today, Bae. How about I take you out again?”
I rolled my eyes as the class snickered. Maximillian looked like he wanted to pummel me but masked his expression into a calm facade before spinning around to face the girl I was pretty sure I’d be willing to lose this job for. “What do you say, Bae? Wanna do dinner again?” he asked while walking over to her, swagger eminent in his steps. I wanted to bust his fucking kneecaps. “I’m not above begging,” he added before sinking down to his goddamn knees.
The asshole was getting an F in my class.
I was quickly losing control of the classroom and knew that if I didn’t reign it in soon, we’d never get anything done. Blakely looked at me for a millisecond before bringing her attention back to Max. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much,” she replied with a smile.
The class erupted into “ooooh burn” and cackles. Max picked himself up off the floor, and I had to fight back a pleased smile. That’s right, fucker.
“Who’s the boyfriend?” he asked with a frown, though he was trying to mask his hurt. I almost felt sorry for him—almost. I too would be devastated to have missed out on Blakely.
I tried to salvage the distraction with a stern frown. “We’re not here to discuss love lives, Mr. Hemsworth,” I growled.
Blakely ignored me and quickly answered Max. “An ex from Texas. We got back together and are going to make the long-distance thing work.” She gave him a convincing smile before scribbling something on her notebook.
I had to forcibly remind myself that this was a lie and that there wasn’t some bumfuck in Texas trying to take what was mine. “Fair enough,” Max said. “I’ll settle for friendship.” He then turned around to face me and grabbed the phone from my palm with a wink. “And if this Texas boyfriend fucks up, I’ll be waiting.”