Page 55 of Too Hostile

“Yeah.” I can’t help smiling because it’s always good to see her. Even if she’d have busted in without telling me she was there, I’d have been really happy to see her.

“Did you have fun?”

I nod my head, pushing the food on my plate around with my fork. “She’s worried about me.”

“Why?” He looks across the table at me with concern and near panic. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

I’d laugh at his reaction if it didn’t make me so damn sad. Because he truly does care about me. I don’t know how we got to this point and how that’s true, but it is. And if it weren’t for the shitty way he was abandoned and having to pull himself from the hellish upbringing, we might actually have a chance.

Maybe I could quit school.

But I quickly shake that away because I know he’d never allow that to happen. “I’m fine,” I say quickly. This man may actually kill me. My heart aches, lying to him, because I’m not fine. Far from it. I want him. Desperately. But I can’t have him. “Sisters worry.” I put that plastic smile back on my face and play it off the best I can.

“Are you sure?” He’s not buying it, but I don’t think he actually wants to dig further into it either. I think we’re both at the point where we know, but also... there’s nothing we can do about it.

I’m not sacrificing his job, and he’s not going to let me quit school.

So I guess we’re just totally fucked.

RONAN

The summer is ending quickly. We only have two more weeks until school starts up again. I try not to think about it. I know I should be preparing to end things with Fletcher. If I was smart, I’d get out now, but I’m apparently not smart at all.

No. I’m at one of my favorite places with Nathan, Annie, and Fletcher, currently watching Fletcher dominate a game of pool with Nathan while I sit in a booth with Annie.

It all feels so damn surreal. So easy in ways my life has never been easy. “Oh my God, could you be any cuter?” Annie exclaims, and I tear my eyes off Fletcher long enough to look at her, seeing she’s looking awfully smug.

“What?”

She cackles, then takes a drink of her pink cocktail. “You cannot stop staring at your man. And it’s adorable.”

I bristle at that. She did not just say that. “What?” I lower my voice and lean a little closer to her from across the table. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a man.” And oh shit, was it that obvious? Did she pick up on something? This is so not good. I swear my eyeballs are sweating.

She looks me dead in the eyes, her gaze her no-nonsense one. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“What?” I gasp. I quickly look around, suddenly paranoid that someone may hear, but no one is paying attention to us.

Annie raises her eyebrow, like she’s waiting for me to calm down, but that’s not going to happen.

“You know?” I relent.

“Of course I know.” She watches me like I’m totally insane, and I feel pretty damn crazy right now. She knows?

“How are you not totally appalled right now? How are you not lecturing me and telling me to end it right fucking now?” I’m panicking, but when I look around, I still don’t see anyone paying any attention to us.

“I’m not appalled because you haven’t done anything wrong,” she says it so simply I want to scream that of course I’ve done something wrong. I did something very wrong minutes before we left to come meet Annie and Nathan at the bar. I did something wrong last night and then fell asleep with Fletcher in my arms. I’ve been doing something wrong all damn summer.

Even if it doesn’t feel that way when I’m with him. Even if when I’m with him, it feels the most right I’ve ever felt. I know in my head it’s wrong. It has to be. I’m a professor, and he’s a student. Black and white. It’s wrong.

She just goes on and doesn’t wait for me to argue, “I’m not lecturing you because you’re a goddamn adult, and so is he.” She nods in the direction of Fletcher, but I won’t let myself look. “And I’m not telling you to end it because I don’t want to see you end it with him.”

My mouth drops open in shock, and it takes me a moment to get any words to come out. “You said Professor Tuttle deserved to be fired. Why the hell are you giving me grace here? It’s the same thing.”

She rolls her eyes at me again. “It’s not the same thing. Not even close.”

I think about the points Fletcher made about how it’s not the same, but to me, on a very basic level, it is. The guilt is gnawing away at me because I know it is. “I’m going to lose my job, and I should.”

“No,” she says firmly, her eyes on mine. “It was different, and you know it was. Fletcher is different. He’s...”