Fuck. My gut pulls into a hard knot. I wouldn’t have made it through the last few months without her help, and she never refused it when I asked.
She shimmies out of her leggings and panties at the same time, and is lifting my shirt over my head before I can even think of what to say. The acid churning in the pit of my stomach is all the proof I need that I can’t follow through with this. And I know it’s because of Blaire. Just knowing the possibility of her exists is enough to ruin me for anyone else.
I grab her hand when she goes for the button of my jeans. “I really can’t, Hannah. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes narrow and she looks at me a long minute, then she straddles me, grinding her naked * against my jeans. “We’re just talking five minutes so I don’t fly into a murderous rampage.”
I drop my head back and blow out a breath.
“I’ll give you anything,” she begs. “I’ll type up your dissertation. Anything you want. Please, Caiden. I really need this.”
I pull my head up and look into her eyes. What’s looking back at me is something I know all too well: a combination of desperation and frustration. I skim my fingertips from her knee up her inner thigh.
“Yes,” she moans and lays back against the table in front of me as I sink my fingers into her. She props onto her elbows and lolls her head back.
The image of Blaire all laid out in this same position on the hood of her Mini flashes in my mind. A sick feeling rolls through my stomach and I lift Hannah off me. “I can’t do this with you anymore, Hannah.”
He looks down at me, all incredulity. “You’re serious.”
I nod.
“You were fine with all this last week. What’s changed?”
“I have.” I reach for her underwear and leggings and hand them to her, then tug on my T-shirt. “I’ve got something going that I’m hoping might turn into something real.”
She surprises me by grinning. “Are you falling in love, Caiden? Has some lucky girl finally snagged your heart?”
I hadn’t thought about it in those terms. “I’m not sure yet, but I guess I want to find out.”
She starts pulling her clothes on. “So, who is the fair maiden? Anyone I know?”
I gather my shit off the table and pack it into my bag. “No.”
“Where did you meet her?”
My heart begins to pulse in my throat. It would feel so fucking good to have someone to talk to about this shit—get some of my frustration out in the open instead of leaving it to fester inside me, but I know it’s too dangerous. “At a poetry slam.”
Her eyes widen. “She’s a poet?”
“One of the best I’ve ever heard.”
“Wow. So…” She hooks her bra. “Are you dating? Or just pining?”
“Pining at the moment, but I think she’s feeling it too.”
“So just go for it. If you like each other, what’s the hang up?”
“There’s an…obstacle.”
Her eyes widen. “She’s got a boyfriend, doesn’t she?”
I nod, even though I honestly have no fucking clue if it’s true or not. I’ve never asked her. But I can’t tell Hannah what the real issue is.
“You’ve got to tell her how you feel, Caiden,” she says, pulling her top on. “Even if it might feel wrong while she’s with someone else, you should just say it. It’s the only way to know. Sometimes we use obstacles as an excuse to play it safe and not risk putting ourselves out there. I just think you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try, you know?”
I nod. She’s totally right. I’ve never been so drawn to a woman. If I don’t go for this and she vanishes out of my life at the end of the school year, I’ll regret it forever. “Thanks, Hannah.”
She pulls me into a hug. “That’s what friends are for.” She draws away and smiles. “Well, that and getting each other off so they don’t go postal on their faculty advisors, but I’ll let it slide this time.”
She hikes her bag onto her shoulder and vanishes through the door, and I know what I have to do.
∞
I’m not sure if Blaire’s coming to the library tonight, and now that I know what I want to say, I can’t risk missing the chance, so I abandon the deserted resource center and go to Dr. Duncan’s lecture hall near the end of class. He’s in the smaller of the two auditoriums in the lit building, as he only has thirty students. I slip into the back of the room and he catches my eye and sends me a salute. I nod and drop into a seat in the empty back row.
My eyes scan the room and find Blaire, seated near the front on the opposite aisle, next to a buff blond guy. She glances over her shoulder at me and smiles, then goes back to taking diligent notes.
I can’t take my eyes off her, absorbing every detail so I can play it back over and over in my mind, how she crosses and uncrosses her miles of legs; the way she twists a finger into the ends of her long sable hair; how she worries her lower lip gently when she’s listening; the curve of her neck when she tips her head to the side and writes.
How come I’ve never noticed she’s a leftie?