Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 41137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41137 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Two hours melt away. Just like the walk, it’s like time doesn’t exist, or maybe it just works differently when I’m around her.
She’s like a black hole, but instead of terror, she makes me feel nothing but excited.
It’s strange. I should be afraid of this. I mean, sitting here, having dinner with her like a normal person, it should be fucking terrifying.
This is an enormous risk for both of us.
But I think I can handle it if something goes wrong. Clara, though, I don’t know.
I’m terrified that if something bad happens, it’ll ruin her reputation. I can come back from something like this, maybe not as strong as before, but still I can come back.
Clara though, she’s so young. She’s just starting out. She doesn’t have my resources, my established friendships, any of that.
I don’t know what she’ll do if something goes wrong.
It keeps me up at night with worry. But right now, I can’t let myself succumb to it.
I pay the bill and we linger over drinks. She smiles that bright smile of hers, the one that drives me wild. I feel a thrill run in my stomach.
It’s the way she tosses her hair, the way she laughs, loud and deep. I love making her laugh. It’s intoxicating.
She cocks her head. “Ready?” she asks finally after we’re both finished with the wine.
I’m not ready. I don’t want this to end. “Ready,” I say.
We get up from the table and head toward the entrance.
And I stop in my tracks.
Standing at the entrance are three older men, graying hair, pale skin, tweed jackets. They’re each the perfect image of cliché professordom. I recognize all three: Lunden, Wilkins, and Horn.
“Just smile,” I say softly to Clara.
She frowns up at me. “What?”
“Smile,” I say again, and go to greet the professors. “Gentlemen!” I say.
The three of them turn to regard me. Clara lingers behind, smiling a big smile, like she was paid to do it.
“Turner,” Wilkins says. “How are you tonight?”
I shake their hands. “Good, good. Gentlemen, would you like to meet my best student?” I gesture at Clara and she steps forward. “This is Clara Nelson, a very promising young lady.”
“Nice to meet you,” Wilkins says awkwardly. The other two just smile and nod like morons.
“Hello, professors,” she says.
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” I say. “Good night.”
The men all nod and I move past them with Clara in tow. We hurry out onto the street.
“Oh my god,” Clara says, eyes wide. “I know them. I mean, I’ve seen them before.”
“Calm down,” I tell her. “It’s okay.”
“They know. I mean, how can they not? It’s so obvious.”
“Clara, it’s okay,” I say, taking her hands. “Seriously, listen to me. They have their own problems.”
“What?” She bites her lip.
“Wilkins is cheating on his wife, Horn’s been stealing from the university for years, and Lunden has so many accusations of sexual misconduct against him that I doubt he even understands what it means to have a normal relationship with a woman.”
Clara just stares at me. “Isn’t this what we were most afraid of?”
I shake my head. “No, not really. I mean, yes, but these guys…” I trail off.
“Just because they’re assholes doesn’t mean they’re going to ignore this.”
I take a breath and let it out. “Come on,” I say, walking toward the center of town.
“Where are you going? Jason, hold on.”
I get lucky. I spot a cab up ahead and practically spring to catch it, knocking on the door to get it to stop. The guy grumbles something as I hold the door for Clara.
She climbs in. I give the cabbie my address.
“Seriously, Jason,” she says.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
We sit in silence for a minute as the cabbie drives toward the address.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks finally.
“Back to my place,” I say softly. “I think it’s time I took you home.”
She looks surprised and bites her lip, but she doesn’t argue.
11
Clara
I’m buzzing with nervous energy as we step out of the cab in front of an old Victorian-style building about ten minutes from campus in a sleepy little neighborhood.
“Apartment?” I say softly.
Jason pays the fare and grins at me. “Well, house.”
“You live here?”
He nods as the cab speeds away. He walks toward the front steps and looks over his shoulder.
“You coming?”
I follow him up onto the front porch. There’s a turret-style tower to the left, with more peaks to this roof than I thought possible. It looks like the kind of house you’d read about in a fantasy novel where some kids get lost in a giant coat closet.
Or maybe a house from a horror movie.
We step in through the front door. “I figured I’d buy this place when I came here,” he says. “Believe it or not, there aren’t many apartments. Plus, I like having the space.”
Inside, it’s nothing at all like I expected. I thought it would be all dark old wood and peeling wallpaper, but instead… it’s shockingly modern.