“Okay.”
“Just until this year is over. When my teaching contract ends, us dating won’t be as big of a deal. But right now, I’m worried that it could be an issue if people find out.”
Not to mention my worries that my reputation would affect her.
“I understand.”
“And I think we should take things slowly,” I added.
She made a face. “Are you still worried you’re going to hurt me?”
I didn’t know how to explain it to her. I wanted to be good for her. Wanted to be the kind of guy who deserved to be with a girl like her. I didn’t know if I would ever get there, if I was even capable of that, but I knew I was a little bit better than I’d been the month before, and better than the month before that. All I could do was hope that time would get me where I needed to be. Or at least close enough.
I had difficulty swallowing over the lump in my throat.
“I don’t want the mistakes I’ve made to spill over onto you. I don’t want to fuck this up the way I’ve fucked up other things in my life. So yeah, I want to take things slow. You deserve a good guy. Let me try to be that guy for you. I can’t promise you that I’ll ever be the guy who deserves you, but I can promise that I’ll try. And that I’d sooner cut off my arm than hurt you.”
Blair
I didn’t know how to make him understand that I didn’t necessarily want him to be a good guy or even a better guy. I wanted him to be himself. So far the version he’d given me, despite the way he spun it, was pretty fucking great.
I leaned up on my toes, putting my mouth to his again, the taste of coffee and Gray filling me. He leaned in, wrapping one arm around my waist, holding me to his body like I belonged there.
I almost blurted out how I felt about him, almost gave him the words, but if I’d learned anything, it was that you couldn’t force Graydon Canter’s hand. He wasn’t a boy; he was a man, stubborn as hell and more than a little set in his ways. Luckily for me, I knew a thing about stubborn, and if I had to wait him out, I’d do it.
He was worth the wait.
We broke apart again and he sat down in the chair across from mine, motioning for me to sit in his lap. A spark of heat flickered through the exhaustion, but then he tugged on my hand and enfolded me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me, my back cuddled against his front. I’d had sexy with him and it was freaking amazing, but sweet was something else entirely. Sweet was a slow burn that reduced my resolve to ash.
Maybe it was because everything about him screamed sex, but the sweet was like a hidden surprise. You had to dig for it, but once you got it . . .
I doubted he did sweet with many people; given the way he’d described his life, it sounded like there hadn’t been much room for softness. I loved that he gave it to me.
“How’s studying going?” he murmured, his lips tickling my ear.
I shivered. “I want to stab myself in the eye with my highlighter, but otherwise fine.”
“Which class?”
“Con law.”
Fucking Commerce Clause.
“How long is it?”
I didn’t even have to ask what “it” was. That was the standard law school outline question.
“Seventy pages single-spaced, heading toward one hundred.”
That was one semester of con law synthesized.
“Did he tell you anything about the exam?”
“Three fact patterns. Three hours. No idea what he’s going to focus on.”
“Did he give you guys a review session?”
“Yeah. I went, and it was okay. He didn’t take any questions, but he hit the high points. I think I’m just nervous since this is my first exam.”
“Have you done a practice exam?”
I had. The only thing worse than taking a three-hour final was taking a three-hour practice exam and then taking a three-hour final.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I didn’t fail miserably, but it wasn’t great.”
“You’ll be fine.”
My brow furrowed. “What if I’m not?”
I couldn’t keep the doubt out of my voice, not with him.
“What are you afraid of?”
“Failing at this, too.”
He shifted me on his lap so that our gazes locked. “What else do you think you failed at?” he asked, his voice soft.
I shook my head, knowing how crazy I sounded. “It’s stupid. I know it wasn’t my fault that things didn’t work out with Thom. I know it, and I still can’t help feeling like there was something wrong with me. Being an asset to my father’s campaign was my job. And I sort of screwed it up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
“You try having your romantic failings put on display for the world to see. My world, at least. It’s humiliating.”
“Of course, it is. You can’t hold on to it, though. At some point you have to learn to let go. You can’t keep beating yourself up. And if law school isn’t what you want, either, then that’s okay, too. You don’t need to find all of the answers at twenty-three.”
Silence filled the air between us as his words settled in.
I shot him a meaningful look. “Do you ever think about taking your own advice?”
A smile tugged at his beautiful mouth. “I’m working on it.”
“Do you think that’s why we work so well together? Because we’re both figuring ourselves out?”
He was quiet again. “Maybe. I don’t know. I just know I feel better when I’m with you.”
As far as compliments went, it wasn’t the most lavish, or the most romantic, yet it curled around my heart, filling me with warmth.
“Are you sure you’re up to going to the Thanksgiving celebration tonight?” he asked. “We have enough volunteers that we can probably handle it without you.”
“I’m definitely not missing out. I can come back and study after.”
His lips brushed against my hair. “Are you sleeping at all?”
“I only need a few hours. I’ll be okay. I have big plans to sleep for a week when finals are over.”
“We should go to dinner when you’re done with exams. Celebrate.”
That sounded amazing. Maybe we could swing it if we went somewhere out of the way, somewhere where we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.
“It’s a date.”
“I can’t wait for the semester to be over,” he mumbled, his lips grazing my lobe.
I bit back a moan. “Me either.”
We stayed like that for a while longer and then he shifted me in his lap and held his hand out. “Ready to head over to the school?”
I gave him my hand and we headed out to celebrate Thanksgiving.
Gray
We entered the gym, and once again, Blair’s handiwork came to life. The space was transformed with large folding tables adorned with linens and place settings. Pumpkins decorated the tables. Buffet stations were set up around the gym’s perimeter, filled with food that restaurants donated.
I’d come up with the idea to organize a pre-Thanksgiving dinner for the eighth grade group we mentored. There were only sixty kids that the school had recommended for the after-school program, but with law school finals the week after Thanksgiving, we’d struggled to get volunteers. Blair was in charge of the whole thing, and in typical fashion, was determined to give these kids the best holiday of their lives. We’d started talking about it a few weeks ago, and she’d lost me at making turkeys out of pinecones or something like that.
My chest got tight as I stared down into her eyes. “Nicely done.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
“You have a talent for this.”
“What? Strong-arming restaurants into cooking for me?” she teased.
I shook my head. “Don’t minimize this. What you did here is huge. You clearly have a knack for organizing events. Managing projects. You’re like a little pearl-clad general.”
She gave me a wry smile. “I’m not sure those are the most useful skills for me to have.”