In Too Hard (Freshman Roommates Trilogy, Book 3) (12 page)

I briefly thought of my own grandmother. My earliest memory of her was hearing her tell my mother, “Don’t bring that spic bastard around here anymore. She don’t look like no grandkid of mine.” This was the closest I ever came to knowing the ethnicity of my father (the spic slur), and I wasn’t even sure that she knew for certain.

I would see her again only when she’d come to visit my redheaded, oh, so Irish, little brothers.

She never acknowledged me, even though it was obvious that I was the one taking care of her beloved little Irish potatoes.

I’d bet my whole paycheck from Montrose that Corrine hugged and kissed every one of her grandkids with the same amount of love and enthusiasm.

“Oh, they were wonderful, Billy, thank you for asking. I went to Chicago and visited my daughter and her family. So wonderful to see those grandchildren, you know they’re the only ones that don’t live in Maryland anymore.”

Montrose was nodding, like he did indeed know where each and every one of Corrine’s grandchildren resided. He leaned against the credenza, his fine ass resting just between two different stacks of his notes.

“And then this past week we saw all the ones around here. Which we do quite often, of course, but you know me…I just can’t get enough of them.”

Yep, Corrine had probably not rung in the new year by calling one of her grandkids “spic bastard.” I kept my head down and typed.

“That’s great,” Montrose said.

“And how about you, Billy? Your family all doing well?”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see the picture on Montrose’s desk of his family as he gave Corrine a brief summary of his break.

“And New Year’s Eve? Did you go to Times Square?” she asked.

My fingers stilled and I looked up then to find him staring at me. “Uh, no. I spent it in. Just a quiet evening with…someone special.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful. I suppose to a native New Yorker that gets kind of old.”

He just nodded his agreement. Corrine then turned her attention to me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “Corrine, this is my new literary assistant, Sydney O’Brien. Syd, Corrine Patterson. She pretty much runs the department.”

She swatted at Montrose in an “Oh, Billy,” delightfully exasperated kind of way, as she made her way to me. I stood, and offered my hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Patterson.”

“Oh, Corrine is fine, please.” Her hand was soft and warm, but the handshake firm.

“Syd,” I said, returning her smile.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and I nodded my agreement. She waved me back to the chair I had just vacated. “Please, dear, don’t let me disturb you from your work.”

“You didn’t,” I said, but sat back down anyway, though I continued to keep my attention on Corrine. And Montrose. Always on Montrose.

“Syd’s helping me get all my notes together so I can—hopefully—spend all my time not in class, writing.”

There was a momentary look of something that resembled…hurt? on Corrine’s face and then she bloomed into a warm smile (I doubt there was any other kind of smile for Corrine). “Well, that’s wonderful. And exactly what you need, Billy, so you can finish that book. Everybody’s so anxious to read it, and I’ll be at the front of the line at the bookstore.” She clasped her hands together, as if she couldn’t contain her glee at the thought.

My eyes were on Montrose and, though it was slight and Corrine probably wouldn’t notice, his body tensed at her words. The black sweater, which I’d had my hands under only moments ago, seemed to pull tighter across his shoulders.

I wasn’t sure if it was Corrine assuming that Billy was close to finishing his novel (when I’d just spent three weeks sifting through the evidence that it hadn’t even been started), or the crazy anticipation of Corrine, and really, the entire literary world and reading public.

Most likely both, and it was a wonder Corrine didn’t pick up on Montrose’s lack of enthusiasm as she rambled on about how excited she was to read it, and how certain she was that it would be brilliant.

All lovely sentiments, and though Montrose had a friendly smile on his face for Corrine, even from where I sat I could see his eyes turn that dark and stormy grey that, if I’d been the captain of a boat and saw seas that stormy, I’d turn back and head for safer harbor.

She was about to go even deeper about her love for
Folly
, when Montrose stepped away from the credenza, tossed his coat on the empty chair (Corrine apparently quickly becoming a boner-killer), and cut her off, by motioning to the neatly stacked piles behind him.

“Yes. You can see how helpful Syd has been already, and all this was just over break.”

She turned to me, the smile firmly on her face, as if she knew what a pleasure it must have been for me to dig around in Montrose’s notes.

She was correct on that count.

“And, I guess I better get ready for Monday’s classes,” he said, moving to the bookcase in the corner and pulling a binder off the shelf.

“Yes, of course,” Corrine said, moving to the door. “It’s nice to have you back, Billy.”

“It’s good to be back,” he said, but he was looking at me when he said it. Then he turned more fully to Corrine and said, “And it’s really good to see you again, too, Corrine.” There was genuine warmth in his voice and Corrine notice it too, because a cute little blush covered her cherubic face.

“Let me know if you need anything—supplies, or that kind of thing,” she said to me, then with a wave she was out the door.

Slowly, he stalked the small room toward me, locking the door, and throwing the binder on the chair, it landing on top of his coat.

He came around the side of the desk. “Now,” he said as he placed one hand on the arm of my chair, the other on the desk, pinning me in, “where were we?”

Chapter Thirteen

W
e kissed. And kissed. And kissed some more. We moved from me sitting in my chair, to us both standing, to us both sitting on the couch, kissing the whole time.

But, much to my frustration (and, okay, maybe a little relief) all we did was kiss. No more groping for clothes, no more pulling shirts free of jeans.

It seemed like the kisses and groping before Corrine interrupted had taken the frenzied edge off and we were now able to relax and just enjoy…many, many, kisses.

I hadn’t been with a guy who just wanted to kiss like that for a long time. Okay, never. It was both refreshing and frustrating.

Yeah, really frustrating.

But I followed his lead, and he never once moved again to remove any of my clothes, or even stick a hand under my fleece, though his hands did tend to gravitate to my ass most of the time.

After at least an hour, (seriously, it had to be over an hour!) he broke away, placing his forehead against mine.

“I’ve got to go,” he whispered.

I pulled back, surprised. I guess I’d assumed if he had come back on Saturday it was so we— No. I couldn’t think like that, I couldn’t read anything in to his actions—or inactions—toward me.

He had to make the rules, because he was worried enough about breaking them by just being with me—his employee and a student. “I’m sorry, but I have to go to a thing for the department. Just drinks, but now that Corrine saw me, I can’t use the excuse that I hadn’t come back in time to go.”

“No. Sure. Of course you can’t.” I tried to hide my disappointment from him, but I was happy to see a smidge of the same feeling on him by the way he eyed my mouth and then let out a long sigh as he rose from the couch.

I packed up and walked out with him, ready to call it a day. I didn’t want to be in the office anymore without Montrose. Hell, after making out on the couch (and desk) with him, I probably wouldn’t ever want to be in there without him again.
 

It was dark when we left Snyder Hall, and the snow was falling. Not big, fluffy flakes that would land gracefully on my eyelashes and cheek, causing Montrose to want to gently brush them away as he gazed at me.

No, this was that kind of hard, sleety stuff that seemed to come at us sideways, causing us to keep our heads down and not gaze at anything more than where to place our next footstep.

There were people milling around. Not many, but after three weeks of walking around campus nearly alone, it seemed odd to see so many of my fellow students trudging through the snow.

Montrose took our fellow companions in stride, just bidding me good night, that he’d see me Monday, and heading off in the opposite direction from me.

I hadn’t expected a hug and kiss—I knew we could never do anything like that in public.

Still, I walked back to Creyts with a feeling of…not exactly rejection. After all, we’d just spent over an hour proving we wanted very much to be together, in whatever capacity that turned out to be.

I guess I was feeling a sense of uneasy acceptance. A new reality forming for me. If I wanted to be more than just an employee to Montrose (and, oh God, did I), then this was how it would be. Stolen time in his office, scurrying to right ourselves when people dropped in. Him having his own life and social events, me having mine. I suppose it wouldn’t set off campus gossip alarms if we had the occasional cup of coffee or slice of pizza in public—I did work for him after all. But that would probably be it, and it wouldn’t be too regular.

I saw a lot of Chinese delivery in our future.

I guess it should have added an element of excitement to the idea that Montrose and I were…going to be Montrose and I, and what all that entailed.

The taboo of it all, the secrecy. But honestly, I didn’t need the added thrill. I was quite thrilled enough that I would be able to spend a semester in the company of Billy Montrose.

And his kisses.

W
hen I got to my room, I knew immediately from the open doors, the lights and music (something from the seventies) coming from the other side of the suite, that Jane was back.

Sure, Jane and I certainly had our bumps early on, but a warm feeling buzzed through me to know that my suitemate was back. I threw my backpack, coat, beanie and mittens on the empty bed and quickly made my way through the empty bathroom to Lily and Jane’s side of the suite.

“Welcome back,” I said as I entered, delighted to find not only Jane, but Lily as well.

“Hey,” Jane said from her bed, where she was sprawled on her back, phone in hand. She put the phone down and propped herself up with some pillows. “You survived the barren halls of Bribury. No ghosts?”

I chuckled. “Nope. I made it. It was kind of weird, though.”

Lily was standing near her bed, but came over and gave me a hug, then returned to unpacking her bags. “Oh, my God,” she said, looking me over. “I got the same boots for Christmas.” She pointed at my new combat boots as she held up a pair of her own, pulled from a huge duffle bag on wheels. It looked like Louis Vuitton had gone Army or something.

The inner relief I felt was huge. I had indeed gotten the right pair. Now, I know most girls might have been pissed that they had the same piece of clothing as their roommate, but not me. Not if said roommate was Lily Spaulding, who innately knew the right thing to wear. I would blend with Lily, and thus with Bribury.

“That’s random,” I said, like I hadn’t agonized over getting the right pair only a few weeks ago. I noticed my new boots were leaving small puddles underneath me from the melting snow. I undid them and placed them on the little mat by the door, then went to join Jane, crawling onto the foot of her bed, my back against the wall, my feet hanging over the side. She nudged me with a toe—Jane’s version of a big welcome hug—and I squeezed her thick wool sock in reply.

“How long have you guys been here?” I asked.

“I’ve been here a couple of hours,” Jane answered. “Lily just showed up about twenty minutes ago. I was going to text you, but figured you’d be back any minute. Where have you been?”

“I was at work,” I answered.

“On Saturday?” Lily asked. She’d finished unpacking, flattening her duffle and sliding it under her bed, then sacked out on her stomach, pulling a pillow under her head and turning on her side to face Jane and me. “Man, that new system must be pretty shaky if they’re still doing testing the weekend before classes start.”

My mind raced with how much to tell Jane and Lily about my job with Montrose. I didn’t want to lie to them, but I was not prepared to talk about even the clerical work I was doing for him, let alone the…other activities he and I had been engaged in.

I wanted to keep it to myself for a while, it felt so new and so fragile. And I wasn’t even sure what “it” was.

“Actually, I was able to pick up another job for the semester, some more of the same kind of clerical work, also on campus, but I can work around my other job, so…weekends and evenings.”

I could feel Jane’s laser-like focus on me and I tried hard not to give any kind of tell that I was holding back something important. I ignored her, and kept my gaze on Lily.

“Well, that’ll be nice for your checkbook, but are you sure that won’t stretch you too thin? Two jobs, full load of classes?”