“But, Dr. Michaels,” she began, but I put my hand up to stop her.
“Stacia, what is your major?”
She had the grace to flush; color began to seep up into her cheeks giving them an embarrassed glow. “It was business admin, but after taking this class, I think I want to be a novelist. I’m thinking of changing my major.”
My mouth formed a stern line. I wasn’t buying her bullshit; she’d have to take a lot of lower-level classes to get a degree in writing and anyone who wanted a decent grade from me, had already done so. I wanted so badly to tell her, point-blank, that she had no hope of my fucking her, and she should stop making an ass of herself. “I would suggest taking a couple more writing classes next semester if you’re really serious about writing, but it would be silly to chuck your business degree at this late date. Isn’t this your fourth year?” When she nodded, I continued. “You’ll need a fifth year in order to take the required courses.”
She looked disappointed, but I didn’t have the time or willingness to change it. It was close to the start of class, and I glanced at my watch. Stacia kept looking at me, hovering. It was apparent she was trying to think of something else to say to change my mind, and she stood in between me and my sightline and my search for Addison.
“Take your seat. Class is about to begin.”
Her mouth opened then shut, and then she nodded, turning and returning to her usual seat in the front.
My eyes skimmed the seats, looking for the object of my interest. I was seriously fucked up. I told myself I wasn’t some horny teenager and I was in complete control of myself and the situation with my beautiful student, so why was I acting like I’d lose it if I didn’t see her walk in?
I got up and turned on the equipment. Luke had already hooked up my laptop getting ready for the lecture, but I double checked the connections, mostly as a distraction as the last of the students took their seats.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I knew she’d entered the room. I straightened and turned around, pulling on the cuffs of my shirt sleeves underneath my jacket. Addison and her friend were coming in the left entrance and took a seat near the back.
Coward, my mind railed. I wasn’t sure why I was so angry. I understood why she’d be nervous, but she’d had plenty of opportunities to bail. Then, the entire weekend passed without a word. Not even to retrieve her purse. Did I imagine the connection? I’d never felt this unsettled after sex before and I didn’t like it one bit.
“Take your seats,” I said. The miniature microphone clipped to my lapel made it easy for the students to hear me and instantly the din of chatter quieted. I tried to ignore the part of the room where I knew she was because I didn’t want her to see how much I was bothered by what happened. “Today we’re going to discuss plotting and making a book map. At the end of the session, I’ll have a very special assignment for you.”
I was fidgeting in my seat. I tried to concentrate on his lecture, but the sound of his voice only made me remember how he’d sounded when he was inside my body. I ran a nervous hand through my hair and bit my lip.
“He can’t see your face from this far away, so why are you acting like you’re starring down the barrel of a gun?” Michelle leaned over to whisper.
My hands were shaking as I tried to type in my notes into my computer. That idiot, Stacia, was all up in Jax’s grill when we came in, shaking her boobs in his face. I felt ill thinking that with the snap of his fingers she’d be in his bed, bouncing up and down on his dick and mewling like a cheap porn star.
Ugh! If only I could wipe that image from my brain. I reminded myself I had no right to be jealous. I was my own reason for my predicament.
“Shhh!” I hushed Michelle. “I shouldn’t have left,” I muttered quietly, more to myself then to my friend. “I just shouldn’t have left.”
“No shit,” she agreed. “Mega mistake.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better,” I shot back sarcastically. Did his voice sound different? More distracted? Less intimate? There was definitely less humor in his lecture than on Friday. He was pissed; I was sure of it.
Kill me, I thought.
I’d royally screwed up my chances to have Jax help me publish and worse, I’d screwed up something amazing on a personal level. I wanted to kick myself. All weekend I worried about if and how I’d be able to dig myself out of this hole. I only hoped he’d listen. I had to talk to him, even if I was scared to death of his reaction.
Jax’s voice was stoic, with less personality injected; his usual charisma was missing.
“A book map can mean something different for different authors. For some they are detailed outlines to include the style of titles and headers, chapter names and contents, character names and characteristics, what the characters look like, the settings etc. Mine is less formal. I have a list of general questions I go through and ask myself after I have the main premise figured out. I fill them in which helps me build the story and keep track of important or recurring facts. I refer to it if I can’t remember a name or eye color. That sort of thing.”
Was he affected or just angry? Would he shove my purse at me and then slam the door in my face, or would he listen? I could barely sit still and couldn’t wait for the hour to end. However, the minutes and seconds dragged at a snail’s pace.
I’d realized the enormity of my mistake within hours of leaving his side. He had been so easy to be with; not just physically amazing, but easy to talk to. I could be myself, and in those few hours he’d gone from untouchable idol to a real, flesh and blood man. I found I wanted more time with him; even more than I wanted his help with my book. I had my entire life to write, and maybe publish a book, but my heart told me I had only one chance with this incredible man.
I didn’t know what was in store if he didn’t understand why I left. I might suffer unspeakably when he walked away from me, but I knew I had to take the chance. Jaxon Michaels was one in a million; once in a lifetime. I was afraid to admit that he already had my heart because if I did, I’d be no different than the many others who swooned at his feet. I shook my head and willed myself to listen to the lecture; I was driving myself crazy with these thoughts.
Finally, he was giving the assignment. “I want five thousand words. Your premise is two strangers with an undeniable attraction who can’t keep their hands off each other, no matter how they try. Where and how do they give in? Is it just physical or more emotional? Make it as dirty or sweet as you want but make it your own. This is an advanced class, so I don’t want to see general writing issues like sentence structure or Oxford comma problems, so have your shit together. If you need to refer to a basic writing book in order to get it right, then do it. This is about plot, and plot alone, but don’t get so caught up in the story that your writing is crap. Got it?” His voice was hard but became husky on the last sentence.
“Got it.” The class answered, many voices in unison.
I stopped cold as I listened; closing my eyes, my breath left my body. The skin on my face turned to fire and I scrubbed at my cheek with a fisted hand. “Due one week from today.”
He was asking hundreds of students to write our real-life scenario. He was asking me to write it. I felt my heart fall to my stomach. Michelle, to her credit, kept quiet as she packed up her computer and notes into her backpack. I could feel her glance as I sat there. She had to know what I was thinking.