Learning to Fall (21 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Little Fox

I woke up on Saturday morning to the chirp of my phone as it informed me I had a new text message. Rolling groggily onto my side, I glanced first at the silver clock on my nightside table - 6:47AM - before making a fumbling grab for my phone while simultaneously unplugging it from the charger.

It was - much to Whitney’s everlasting amusement - a flip phone. I’d had it since my sophomore year at Harvard, and even though the front was scratched almost beyond recognition and it had the bad habit of shutting off whenever it was too cold or too hot outside, I loved it for the sole reason that it was the first thing I’d ever bought strictly for myself.

Not for college or because my mother ordered me to or because it was expected of me, but because I’d
wanted
it. I purchased it with the money I’d saved up from tutoring - a small act of rebellion my mother would have immediately demanded I stop had she ever found out - and I was determined to keep using it until it finally gasped its final dying breath.

Then I was going on Ebay and buying another one exactly like it.

The phone lit up when I thumbed it open. Seeing Daniel’s name, I came instantly awake. Holding my breath, I clicked on the little yellow envelope to reveal his message.

Good morning, little fox.

My pulse accelerated. A blush, pink and warm, started on my chest and quickly rose up to my cheeks as I flipped over onto my stomach and read the text again. Then once more, just for good measure.

Daniel and I hadn’t spoken or seen one another since Monday night when he’d walked me to my car, said goodnight, and left.

That had been it.

No kisses. No promises. Not even a ‘
let’s get together sometime soon
’, leaving me to roll restlessly on my mattress as I second-guessed myself until two in the morning.

Maybe he didn’t like me as much as I thought he did.

Maybe he was mad at me for lying to him about my job.

Maybe now that he knew I was his teacher he didn’t want anything to do with me.

Maybe now that
I
knew he was my student
I
shouldn’t want anything do with him.

Maybe I need to stop thinking and just go to sleep.

I’d wanted to call him the second I woke up on Tuesday, but I stopped myself, more afraid of what would happen if he didn’t answer than what would happen if he did. Then before I knew it the week was almost over, and I hadn’t called or texted him and he - for reasons I couldn’t let myself even begin to contemplate without going crazy - hadn’t called or texted me.

When I had walked away from him at Harbinger Hall, I had been an idiot to think distance would prevent me from thinking about him. If anything, it made me think about him
more
, not less.

And just maybe
, I thought as I stared at my phone,
that was his grand scheme all along.

If so, he’d definitely succeeded. 

A chunk of hair slipped out of my ponytail and fell into my eyes. I tucked it absently behind my ear as I reread Daniel’s text message, studying it with the same intensity I used when I read my student’s papers.

The message was comprised of twenty letters, four words, six syllables, one comma, and one period. But what did it
mean
? More importantly, what in the world was I supposed to say back?

My pointer finger danced indecisively across the tiny oval keys. I started to type hello, but stopped before I reached the second
l
. Hello sounded too formal. Too rigid. Too much like something a teacher might say to a student. Which of course was exactly what we were.

Student. Teacher.

Teacher. Student.

Boyfriend…Girlfriend?

I snapped the phone closed and threw it towards the foot of the bed.
Was
Daniel my boyfriend? We hadn’t said the words, but we’d been on dates. We’d confessed secrets. We’d slept together. With a soft sigh I touched my lips, tracing their shape as I remembered what it felt like to have his mouth pressed against mine. The warmth. The heat. The slow, smoldering burn. His hands following the curves of my body. His tongue teasing my breasts. His voice a hot, silky whisper against my flesh…

It had felt so
right
to be with him. So amazing. So perfect. 

And now that I knew he was my student, so very wrong.

Rolling across the mattress, I reached for my phone. Bright morning sunlight spilled in through the window and reflected off the screen, making it impossible to read. Drawing the covers over my legs, I scooted up until my back pressed against the headboard and cocooned myself in with pillows. Not giving myself time to think, I sucked in a mouthful of air, flipped my phone open, and returned Daniel’s text.

Good morning. How are you?

Earth shattering in its brilliance my text was not, nor was it particularly witty or charming, but then I’d never seen the point in pretending to be one person via text or e-mail and another in real life. Whitney, on the other hand, spent
hours
coming up with the perfect reply when she received a text from one of her many admirers. Because apparently timing was also something to consider when you were attempting to flirt via emoticons and messages.  

‘
You can’t just reply right away
,’ she’d told me once when I asked her why she never returned a text right after it was sent even though her phone was permanently glued to her hand. ‘
You never want men to think you need them.
’

It was a game I had never understood, and one I had no intention of playing. As I gazed down at my phone, waiting impatiently for it to chime, I could only hope Daniel was of a like mind. He didn’t strike me as the sort of person who played games, which was, I think, one of the reasons I’d been so immediately drawn to him.

He was real. There was no better word I could use to describe him. The few men I’d dated in the past, including Justin, had always been kind and courteous, not to mention highly intelligent, wealthy, and destined for bright, brilliant futures in the business world. But despite all of their credentials, I had found each and every one lacking in one vital area: to a fault, they’d all said what they
thought
I wanted to hear…not what they really wanted to say. The opposite was true of Daniel. He may not have had a fancy education or a job that brought in six figures, but when he said something, he meant it. And when he touched me…when he touched me, I felt it.     

My phone chimed. 

I’ll be better when I see you.

I bit my bottom lip, nibbling on the smile that bloomed without thought or reservation. Butterflies danced in my stomach, their flapping wings filling me with excitement. I pulled my top comforter higher, burrowing down amidst the pillows and the blankets like a sparrow settling into its nest.   

I want to see you too.

This time he replied right away.

I was hoping you’d say that. 

The butterflies went crazy as my face went pale, all of the doubts and uncertainties I’d felt on Monday resurfacing in a pool of dark, murky water. I knew we wanted to see one another, but there was more to consider than our own wants and needs.

Any relationship between us outside of the classroom carried with it real, serious consequences. Consequences that could change both of our lives. Daniel may not have realized their significance, but I did. I knew only too well, and it was that knowledge, sitting like a cold hard pit in the bottom of my stomach, that had me second-guessing myself for a full five minutes before I texted four letters, one word, and one question mark before I could change my mind.

When?

His reply came almost instantaneously.

How about right now?

The doorbell rang.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Muffins

I scrambled out of bed, dragging the comforter halfway out into the hall before I realized it was tangled around my legs. Yanking it free, I threw it back on the mattress before I dashed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

“Hey!” Whitney’s drowsy yell had me cringing. In my haste to get rid of my morning breath before I went downstairs and let Daniel in, I’d completely forgotten about her. “Civilized people are trying to sleep past…what time is it?”

“Seven.”

“Civilized people are trying to sleep past seven!”

“Sorry, Whit! I’ll be quiet.” Turning on the faucet, I dashed my toothbrush under the water before applying a liberal amount of bright blue toothpaste and going to work. As I brushed, I studied my reflection in the mirror, rather pleased to note my ponytail had more or less survived the night without looking like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket. There were shadows under my eyes (not a big surprise given the amount of sleep I had been getting lately), however, and a bright red pimple on my chin. If I had Whitney’s prowess with makeup I would have no doubt been able to make myself look bright-eyed and fresh-faced in a matter of minutes, but given that I couldn’t tell the difference between concealer and foundation I settled for a cold washcloth and a few swipes of mascara.

I was debating whether to change out of my pajamas - tank top, sweatshirt, and flannel pants - and into something more presentable when the bathroom door swung open, narrowly avoiding hitting me on the butt.

“What the hell are you doing?” Looking the worse for wear after a Friday night spent clubbing in Bangor, the only city within a two hour drive (and home to one of my favorite authors, Stephen King), Whitney rubbed her eyes and muffled a huge yawn with the back of her hand. “Are you putting on makeup? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Why does something have to be wrong just because I’m putting on makeup?” Intensely aware that every second ticking by was another one Daniel spent waiting on the doorstep, I hastily screwed the cap on the mascara, hung up the washcloth on the shower rod to dry, and dashed back across the hall into my bedroom. Whitney shuffled after me, a spark of interest glimmering in her bloodshot eyes.

“Are you going running?”

“Later.” When was the last time I had shaved my legs? Yesterday? The day before? I pulled my pajama pants up and brushed my hands down my calves. Yesterday, I decided. Thank God. Whipping off my sweatshirt and tank top, I turned my back to Whitney as I fumbled into a pink cotton bra. One of the straps caught on the end of my ponytail, yanking my head to the side.

“Here.” Gently pulling my hair free, Whitney watched with lips pursed as I threw the tank top and sweatshirt back on. “You’re acting really weird. Like, weirder than normal weird.”

“Daniel’s here,” I said breathlessly.

“What do you mean he’s here?” Her eyes widened. “As in here, here?”

“As in waiting outside the door right now,” I confirmed.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because you were sleeping.”

Whitney snorted. “As if I wouldn’t wake up for this.” Following me out of the bedroom and down the stairs she asked, “Are you going to talk to him about, well,
you know
?”

Because there was no one in the world I trusted more than Whitney, I had told her everything that had happened on Monday night. Everything…except for how torn I was. In very atypical Whitney fashion she hadn’t given me any advice on what do, although I suspected it was because she’d naturally assumed I would stop seeing Daniel.

Because that’s what the old, logical, rule-following, law-abiding Imogen would have done. Because that’s what the new, more carefree, accept-things-as-they-come Imogen
should
have been doing instead of standing in her pajamas about to let in the one man who could love her unconditionally…and ruin her career. 

“Yes.” I peeked out the kitchen window to where Daniel stood waiting, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his dark blue jeans and his back to the door. A light breeze toyed with the hair sticking out from underneath the black watch cap he wore pulled low over his brow. It was still early enough to be dark out, but dawn was racing rapidly across the distant horizon, unraveling ribbons of drowsy pinks and vibrant reds as it chased the night back into the shadows.

I remembered a poem I’d heard once. I couldn’t remember who had told me, but it was something that had stuck in the back of my mind and never left. It was an old sailor’s proverb, one that had been used to predict the weather and the coming tides since men had first sailed the seas.

Red skies at night; sailors delight

Red skies in morning; sailors take warning

Great
, I thought with a grimace.
Way to set the mood, Imogen
.

Beside me Whitney shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other. “Do you think…I mean, is this a good idea? You know I’m all for inviting hot guys into the house,” she said quickly before I could reply. “But Mo…he’s, like…your
student
. Can’t you get in trouble for that?”

Daniel wasn’t
like
my student.

He
was
my student.

And yes, I could get in trouble. A great deal of it.

We both could.

“We’re only going to talk,” I said firmly. “Do you mind going back upstairs? Please,” I added when she made a face. “It won’t be for very long.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She pursed her lips. “Just don’t have sex on the couch.”

I waited until she’d disappeared up the stairs before I opened the door. A gust of cold air caught me full in the face, stealing the very breath from my lungs with its sharp, mindless intensity. The moment Daniel turned and his eyes met mine, however, the cold just seemed to…melt away, and I felt warm. Warmer than I had in weeks.

“Can I come in?” he said huskily, bracing his arm against the doorframe.

I stepped automatically to the side. “Of course. I - I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I know it’s freezing.”

He slanted me an amused glance out of the corner of his eye as he kicked the excess snow off his boots before walking inside. “It’s not so bad out today. Wait until the beginning of March. Then you’ll really get a taste for what winters up here are like.” 

So people kept telling me. “Here, let me take your coat.” If my movements were a little stiff, a little awkward, Daniel didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything. Carefully hanging his coat up next to mine, I turned and nearly bumped into him. Startled by his close proximity I started to jump back a step, caught myself, and ended up half stumbling/half falling into the coats.

“Easy,” Daniel said as he grabbed my hand and hauled me upright. As the air around us seemed to snap and sizzle with electricity, our gazes met and held. My lips parted, but no words came out. “Here.” With a half smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, Daniel let go of me and held out a plate of seran wrapped blueberry muffins I hadn’t even noticed he’d been carrying until now. “I figured if I was going to get you out of bed before eight, the least I could do was bring you breakfast. They’re from Poppy’s.”

“They’re still warm,” I noted as I took the plate and felt the heat radiating off from it.

“Baked fresh this morning.”

“Thank you. I’ll - I’ll put them on the kitchen table. Do you want some coffee?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “That would be great.” 

Keep breathing
, I told myself as I set the muffins down on the table and opened the cupboard closest to the fridge.
You can do this. Just keep breathing.
Stretching up on my toes, I struggled to reach the white filters someone - also known as Whitney - had carelessly tossed to the back of the cupboard.

“Do you need some help?” Without warning Daniel came up behind me and put one hand on the curve of my hip, causing an instantaneous surge of lust to move through me with so much strength it almost made my knees buckle. Sucking in a sharp breath, I came down on my heels with a loud
thud
, coffee filter pressed against my chest.

“I - ah - no thank you. I have it. See?” Twisting, I held up the crumpled coffee filter. 

“Here.” Reaching effortlessly above my head, Daniel got a second filter and set it aside before he braced his fingertips on either side of my waist, caging me in. He leaned forward, rough denim brushing against my thighs. Multiple layers of fabric separated our skin, but for all the heat between us we might as well have both been naked.

I leaned away, the small of my back pressing into the edge of the counter as my entire body tingled with awareness.

Right.

Wrong.

Black.

White.

Suddenly I couldn’t tell the difference anymore and that scared me. It scared me more than stepping out of my comfort zone. It scared me more than not being perfect. It scared me more than falling.     

“You look frightened,” Daniel observed quietly, searching my face.

I wet my lips. “I am.”

His entire body stiffened. “Of me?” 

“No. No, not of you.” To reassure him, I forced my mouth to form a small, tentative smile. “I’m afraid of making the wrong decision.”

“Is that what you think this is? Is
that
why you let me in? So you could make a damn decision?” The harshness in his voice took me by surprise. “Do you know why I came over here this morning, Imogen?”

Struck mute by the intensity burning in his eyes, I shook my head.

“I came here because you were the first person I thought of when I woke up this morning and you were the first person I wanted to see. The only person I wanted to see.” He took my face in his hands, fingers splaying across my chin and jaw in a grip that was as gentle as it was unyielding. “I know you’re scared. And I know you want to do the right thing. But what we have between us,
that’s
the right thing. And you can’t take that away with a decision.”

“It’s not that easy,” I whispered. “I could be fired, Daniel. Something I’ve worked my entire life for could be taken away from me in an instant. I - I want to be with you. I do. But we’ve only known each other for five months. In some ways we’re still practically strangers.”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say even before Daniel’s eyes flashed grey fire. But it was how I felt. Yes, I wanted to be with Daniel and yes, I was in love with him. But could I give up something I
knew
was a sure thing for something I didn’t?

I honestly didn’t know.

“Five months has been long enough for me to know that right now you’re trying to think with your head instead of your heart. It’s been long enough for me to learn that when you get flustered, you try to solve your problems with logic and reason, but what I feel for you and what I know you feel for me whether you’re ready to admit it or not isn’t logical or reasonable. And this sure as hell isn’t logical or reasonable.” In one fell movement he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the counter. Eyes glinting with dark, sensual purpose he brought his mouth crashing against mine in a kiss that wasn’t sweet or gentle or patient, but it was exactly what I needed.

His hands tangled in my hair, pulling to the point of pain as he dragged my head back and nipped at my throat, bristle scraping deliciously across my sensitive flesh.

With a gasp I arched my back, inadvertently thrusting my breasts into his waiting hands. When had he gotten under my sweatshirt? Everything was spinning out of control, like a carousel stuck on fast forward.

And I loved it.

He skimmed his thumbs across my nipples. They went hard in an instant, straining against the delicate cotton fabric of my bra. Heat pulsated through me, dampening the crotch of my underwear as he kissed me again, sliding his tongue between my teeth. I brought my legs up and wrapped them around his waist, heels touching the top of his butt.

More
, I all but panted.
More, more, more.

Daniel obliged me. When he bit my bottom lip and tugged - hard - I groaned, nails sinking into the nape of his neck as my legs tightened reflexively, dragging him against the apex of my thighs. He rubbed himself against me, rocking his hips back and forth in an undulating rhythm that set me on fire. Skimming his hands down my body, he grabbed the hem of my sweatshirt.

“Arms up,” he growled.

I hastened to obey and he dragged both my sweatshirt and my tank top over my head and threw them on the floor, leaving me in nothing but flannel pajama pants and a pink bra. Dimly some part of my brain registered that we were on the brink of making love in the kitchen, but any thoughts of stopping vanished the instant Daniel lowered his head and drew my nipple into his mouth through the thin lace fabric of my bra.

“Oh. Oh.
Oh
.” My head lolled to one side as he suckled and I would have slid bonelessly off the counter had it not been for his body anchoring mine in place.