Suddenly the room swarms, everyone rising from their seats and talking all at once, and I realize Dr. Duncan has dismissed them.
I stand and move to the aisle and see Dr. Duncan waving me down. I start down the lecture hall stairs and slow as I pass Blaire, still packing up her things.
“How’s your presentation coming?” I ask, my fingers brushing her elbow.
When her nipples start to bead, I realize she’s wearing a bra. I’ve never seen her in one before. Wasn’t sure she owned any. A rush crackles under my skin when it hits me she must lose it between class and the library.
For my benefit?
“I was hoping you could look over what I have so far,” she says. “Will you be in the library after this?”
“I’ll walk over with you if you can wait just a minute,” I say with a nod at Dr. Duncan.
“Sure,” she says, and the tiniest hint of a smile sparks in her eyes.
“Mr. Brenner,” Dr. Duncan says, climbing the first step to where Blaire and I are standing. “I showed Dr. Garret your dissertation drafts and he had some interesting thoughts on cross referencing the cross cultural regression with the lambda quotient from each region. I told him I’d send you in to speak with him.”
I nod. “I’ll set up a time.”
He waves a hand at Blaire. “Have you seen Miss Leon’s work so far on your friend Juan? She’s got some interesting perspectives for someone so young.”
I glance at her and see her hand stall midway to her messenger bag with her notebook. “We’ve talked some about it. She’s got a gift for seeing the nuances most people miss.”
“It’s a talent that most of my juniors never master.”
“Thank you, Professor Duncan,” she says, hiking her bag. “I’m really enjoying this class.”
“I’m jealous of Berkeley for stealing you away from me. I’d love to watch your insights bloom and mature over the next four years.”
When I realize I’m lost in this conversation, I look at her. “You applied to grad school?”
Her panicked eyes flick to Dr. Duncan when he laughs. He claps me on the back. “She’ll get here eventually, I’m certain, but our prodigy is still in high school.”
The sensation is one of my veins being opened and ice water being poured directly into them. “You’re in high school?” I hear myself say.
Her lips purse and there’s a slight quiver in her lower one. “Yes.”
Chapter 9
Blaire
I turn and bolt out of the lecture hall, because the betrayal in Caiden’s eyes is killing me.
I should have told him the truth.
But then I wouldn’t have had Friday, the most amazing night of my life. A shudder ripples under my skin at the memory of everything Caiden made me feel.
“Blaire!”
My feet stall on the sidewalk at his voice behind me. I turn and he’s jogging through the dark in my direction. When he reaches me, he stops jogging but keeps moving, walking right past me. I catch up and keep pace with him.
“You told me you were a senior.” His voice is low, calm, and I’m not sure what to read into it.
“I am.” It’s the only thing I can think to say, and it comes out hard, like I’m trying to defend it. Maybe that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I hate that it makes him think I’m less than he thought I was yesterday.
“In fucking high school!” he hisses, bunching a hand in his hair. “How old are you?”
“I’ll be seventeen in three weeks.” I hate the blood that betrays me by rising to my cheeks. I don’t want to feel ashamed of wanting him.
“Jesus Christ. My kid brother is older than you.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and hangs his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
We reach my car and I turn to face him. “Because I like you, Caiden. I like you a lot. I didn’t want you to think I was too young.”
“But that’s exactly the problem, Blaire! You are too young.” He paces to the front of my car and stands with his back to me, rubbing a hand down his face. “Christ. This was bad enough when I thought you were a senior in college.”
“If we both want this, why should it matter how old we are?”
He spins on me and tosses a hand at the sky. “Because I’m twenty fucking five, Blaire! Guys my age go to jail for doing what we’ve been doing.”
I step closer. “Even if it’s consensual?” One step closer and I’m right next to him. My hand brushes his thigh and I curl my fingers into the denim of his jeans. “Even if I want you so fucking much I can taste it?”
He groans and braces his hands on the hood of my car, right where my ass was when he was going down on me just three nights ago. “Yes, even then.”
“That’s not fair.”