Waiting for Love ((Waiting) Book 2)

Waiting for Love

Copyright 2015 by Dawn Stanton

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Published by

Dawn Stanton

Cover design by Letitia Hasser RBA/Designs

Edited by Laura from Edits for You

      This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received a copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.

     The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and the author is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, artist or musicians mentioned.

      This book contains mature content, including graphic sex and emotional triggers. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

This book is dedicated to my husband Daniel, the love of my life and the inspiration for all the book boyfriends I write. xo

Chapter One

Beacon University

September 2012

      My alarm didn’t go off this morning, for some unknown reason and now I’m running like the devil himself is chasing me, trying to make it to my creative writing class on time. It’s the first day of my junior year and I’ve heard that Professor Hanlon is a real bastard to deal with. He loves to make examples out of his students and by examples, I mean humiliate them in front of the entire class.

      Hailey, my best friend, and roommate had him last year and she absolutely detested him. She would frantically race out of our apartment on the mornings she had his class, in fear of being late. Hailey claims the only redeeming quality he has is his handsome appearance; God knows it’s not his glowing personality. Being late on the first day of class is not the way to get in his good graces or to make a positive first impression, but it seems like no matter how much I hurry, fate keeps sticking her foot out and repeatedly tripping me.
I should’ve stayed in bed.

   I’m already five minutes late by the time I finally find a parking space to pull my Audi Quatro into. I glance at myself in the rearview mirror and cringe at what I see. I didn’t have time to shower so I put my long curly blonde hair in a messy bun on top of my head and hastily applied some pink lip gloss. That was the extent of my primping and honestly who cares if I’m wearing a ratty pair of cutoffs and a pink tank top that says princess across my chest? Of course wearing this shirt probably wasn’t the wisest choice, especially when I’m dealing with this particular professor. He’s going to take one look at it and falsely label me a spoiled prima donna. Oh well, it’s not like it will be the first time I’ve been misjudged. 

      As I get out of my car, I grab my large black Michael Kors book bag off the passenger seat and sling it over my shoulder. I nudge my car door closed with my hip and push my cell phone into the back pocket of my shorts. My keys get tossed in my bag before I zip it up as I’m speed walking down the endless corridor. The problem with rushing is that you get so intent on where you’re going you shut everything else out. All you can think of is reaching your destination in the fastest way possible. That single-minded focus can get you in a lot of trouble. Especially when there’s a corner you have to go around and you’re not expecting anyone else to be there.

      I smash into what feels like a brick wall and ricochet off of it, stumbling awkwardly before finally landing in an undignified manner. Yep, you guessed it…on my ass. My bag went flying clear to the other side of the hallway. I’m so glad it didn’t come unzipped as it slid across the floor. Even thinking about all of the embarrassing things that could’ve been flung about makes me cringe. 

    At first, I just sit there in a daze and take stock of the situation. Once I realize what happened I jumped to my feet as quickly as possible, an apology on my lips.
Fuck. It’s Professor Hanlon.
I’ve only seen him from a distance when Hailey pointed him out to me and he looks even better up close.

“I’m so sorry. I was in such a hurry I wasn’t paying attention when I came around the corner.” I nervously chew my lip while waiting for him to reply, but he’s too busy perusing my body with his eyes to respond. I return the favor, taking him in inch by inch, slowly caressing his tantalizing form with my lingering gaze. He’s stoic, his muscular arms are crossed over his equally muscular chest. His button up shirt is straining against his well-developed physique in the hottest kind of way. His caramel colored hair is longer on top with a few stray pieces hanging close to his heavily lashed eyes. His thick black hipster glasses frame them perfectly. I lose myself momentarily trying to figure out their color. They look hazel from afar, but as I move a bit closer, I see there are flecks of gold mixed in with the green and brown. I wonder what they would look like on closer inspection? I’m curious if they appear brighter or more intense as he gets turned on? A split second after I finish looking him over his gorgeous eyes lock onto mine. My heart begins pounding in anticipation, my body aches for his lips against mine.
Oh my God, get a grip.

    Since he still hasn’t spoken a single word, not with his mouth anyway, his multi-colored eyes are a different story. They’ve said plenty of things to me…inappropriate things. It’s time to remove myself from this horribly awkward situation.

“Oookay, I’m going to go now. Once again I’m sorry and I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

I wave my hand back and forth gesturing between us. He remains in the same place, not moving or speaking. If it wasn’t for the sexy smirk that has taken over his sculpted lips, I might think he was a statue, like David, only not naked and carved in stone. This guy is definitely flesh and blood.

      I walk the handful of steps to the other side of the hall and bend over to grab my bag. I glance at him as I stand back up and I catch him ogling my ass. As I walk away, I sense his gaze locked onto my backside and I add a little extra sway in my hips for his viewing pleasure. 

     When I open the door to the classroom, I find it fairly crowded.
Oh great, trying to find a seat
in this zoo should be fun.
I’m still standing by the door craning my neck, looking for an available spot when I hear a deep, male voice call my name.

“Shelby.” A large hand connected to a muscular arm is raised above the heads of the seated students and I gravitate toward it like a glowing beacon on a stormy night. As I slowly make my way over, I pay close attention to the feet and backpacks protruding in the aisle. One wipe-out per day is enough, especially when I’ve already reached my daily quota and it’s only nine o’clock.
I’m such an overachiever.

      I smile when I realize who called out my name. It’s Jeff, my sometimes friend with benefits. Well, he’s always my friend, but I don’t always get the pleasure of seeing him naked. He and I have been hooking up on a fairly regular basis for the past six months. Our arrangement works great for both of us. He’s hot and his benefits are plentiful.
We both like sex and neither one of us wants a commitment. Plus, he’s a great guy and lots of fun to just hang out with.

“Hey Jeff, I didn’t expect to see you in here.”

“Yeah, me either, but I needed another English class and this was all that was available. It’s looking better now, though.” He nudges my elbow with his and winks at me.

“Jeff,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Your flirting is wasted on me unless you’re just trying to hone your skills. If that’s the case, then hone away.” He smiles at me making the outer corners of his dark blue eyes crinkle.

“I’m just trying to butter you up so you’ll come over tonight,” He says.

“Butter? You are joking, right?” I roll my eyes at the ludicrous turn this conversation has taken.

“I don’t want you to be bored with our liaisons. Maybe we need to take it up a notch.” He says with a grin.

“Or we could push the envelope,” I say trying to hold in my laugh while thinking of another reply at the same time. This is a silly game that Jeff and I like to play and I know he’ll keep this going for as long as possible. He’s pretty quick witted and super intelligent, so it’s not easy to one-up him.

“We could go for broke,” He smirks as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“It could be time to kick it into high gear,” I tell him as I mimic shifting a manual transmission car.     Even though I look like a girly-girl, Hailey likes to tease me that I’m really a teen boy trapped in a female body. I’ve been told I have a dirty mind and aside from Hailey, I prefer to be friends with guys. They’re easier to get along with and there's no unnecessary drama.

“I think we need to kick it into overdrive.” We both snicker at his answer and just as I’m about to continue on with our game, Professor Hanlon walks in the room.
Damn.

      It’s amazing the effect a teacher entering the classroom can have on a group of students. The noise level goes from loud and chaotic to absolute silence within mere seconds. It makes me feel like I’m in second grade again and Mrs. Harrington is holding up her peace sign, signaling it’s time for us to use our “listening ears,” for story time. I half expected Professor Hanlon to greet us with “good morning boys and girls,” but he doesn’t. There really isn’t much of a greeting given by him at all. His tone is cold and matter of fact as he addresses us all.

“I’m Professor Hanlon and this is Creative Writing. If you thought you were in another class, feel free to leave. If you’re supposed to be in another class, you may also leave.” Ironically, at this point, we lose five people from the class.
Sucks to be them
. He passes out the class syllabus before returning to the front of the room to take attendance. He calls out each student’s name, waiting for their reply before continuing on. I’m waiting for him to say my name and my stomach is getting a little nervous. I’m not sure why, though. I’m pretty confident I can manage to pronounce the word “here” even under the worst of circumstances, never mind when I’m stone cold sober like now. It’s four letters and only one syllable. As far as words go, it’s not very impressive at all. It takes more effort to hiccup or burp than it does to articulate it. So what am I worried about? I’m so lost in my musings that I almost miss him saying my name. If it wasn’t for Jeff kicking my leg under the table, I’m not sure if I would have heard him.

“Here,” I reply before kicking Jeff back. “That hurt! Couldn’t you have just poked me with your finger or gently nudged me with your hand?” I notice that Professor Hanlon has stopped going through the roll call so I direct my gaze toward him. He’s staring intently at me as if he’s waiting for me to stop talking.
Oops. I seriously should have stayed in bed today.

“Are you done now Miss Tyler or would you like us all to wait while you continue?” I’m suddenly mute and all I can seem to do is shake my head.

“No, you’re not done or no, you are?” He continues.
Voice, please don’t fail me now because clearly a head shake isn’t going to suffice.

“No, I’m all set. Please continue with your roll call.” It comes out in a semi-bitchy tone which is appropriate because I’m semi-bitchy about fifty percent of the time. You’ve got a pretty good chance to catch me at my worst, which is snarky and sarcastic. I kind of think those are the best parts of me, though, so I guess it’s all in how you look at it.

“I’m glad I have your permission to continue, Miss Tyler.”
Speaking of sarcastic.
He finishes taking attendance and goes over the syllabus with us, explaining his expectations.

“I don’t tolerate tardiness. You need to be on time or don’t bother coming to my class at all.” He looks my way as if he’s directing his message solely to me. I think this might be a case of “do as I say, not as I do,” so I stare right back at him, hoping his message also sinks into his brain.
Hey, he was late to class too.
Jeff leans over and whispers in my ear.

“Why does he keep looking at you?”

“Because I’m awesome. Why do you think?”

“He likes your rack.” I hit him on his arm and we both snicker and get an ice cold glare for our disruption. I guess it doesn’t take much to piss Professor Hanlon off. 

    The remainder of my day went much better than it started. I was on time for the rest of my classes and the professors seemed to be nice and have realistic expectations. Jeff’s also in my math class which works out great for me because I absolutely suck at anything numbers related. If it involves calculating anything that’s beyond the sixth-grade level, I can’t do it. In order to pass this class, I may have to swap sexual favors in exchange for math tutoring from Jeff.
Just kidding...sort
of.

    Since it’s only the first day of classes and we aren’t bogged down with homework, Hailey and I decide to take advantage of it by going out tonight. I could use a few cocktails after the morning I’ve had and some dancing may be just what I need. I’m standing in my walk-in closet trying to figure out what to wear but nothing is jumping out at me. I purse my lips as I glance around at the racks of clothes. It’s out of desperation at not being able to choose that I decide to leave my cutoffs on and pair my favorite brown cowboy boots with them. I change into another tank top, this one is navy blue and has a low cut back. I love this shirt, it’s one of my favorites. I really like the way the material drapes loosely over my body and that the length is on the longer side. I add a couple sterling and turquoise bangle bracelets as well as matching earrings. I brush my hair and decide to style it in a low side ponytail. It’s too hot to deal with this monstrosity smothering me all night. My hair has a mind of its own. It’s like a living, breathing entity and I can’t make it do anything it doesn’t want to. Hailey is under the misconception that my hair is perfect all the time and easy to do, but it’s really a huge pain in my ass and I contemplate chopping it off on a weekly basis. I put on some purple eyeliner that seems to complement my chocolate brown eyes and add some mascara to my thick lashes. I slick some berry gloss on my lips and check out my face in the mirror. I don’t feel like exerting any more effort than I already have. I’m just not up for putting on a full face of makeup and it’s so freaking hot, I’d just sweat it off. It’s never attractive when makeup melts off your face. What guy wants to get slimed when they’re dancing with a girl? 

      We live in a large second-floor apartment in a brownstone in Boston, on the edge of the Beacon University campus. My father bought it for me last year and Hailey and I moved in just prior to the start of sophomore year. It’s in a fabulous location, within walking distance of all the popular bars and tonight we’re going to J.J.’s, our favorite. Since we both have had fake ID’s from the time we were freshman, we’ve been frequent patrons there and are familiar with all the staff members. Mac, one of their burlier bouncers, is working the door when we arrive. He smiles and waves us on into a sea of dancing bodies and the overwhelming smell of alcohol. I’m actually slightly surprised at the large turnout tonight, but I guess we weren’t the only ones looking for any opportunity to go out.