Reckless Longing

  Dex buzzed with his electronic buzzer. Dr. Rogers called on him. "Having some old quizzes and tests to study would help us out. Will you be posting any?"

  "Absolutely not." Dr. Rogers looked almost gleeful and a lot like Hannibal Lecter after a good meal. "They wouldn't do you any good if I did."

  I thought the crowd might mutiny. Dex was fuming. If Dr. Rogers was trying to incite a riot, she was certainly going about it the right way.

  "This is absolute bullshit," Dex said as we walked out. "Last semester she pulled heavily from quizzes from the semester before. Without any study aids, we're fucked."

  Before work I went to see Byron during his office hours. "Office" was a misnomer. He had a desk in a single-man cubicle at the back of a chem lab on the second floor of the chem building. At least he had a window, but it looked out on the second floor of the parking garage next to the chem building. Better than a view of garbage bins, I supposed. If I were him, I would have put up a curtain.

  His desk was cluttered with lab notebooks he was grading and the cloth walls of his cubicle held a Big Bang Theory calendar, a periodic table, and some inspirational quotes by famous chemists. It was nothing to write home about.

  Byron sat across his battered desk from me, looking nerdy and nervous. Like Byron's hands, the desk was covered with chemical stains. He blushed.

  "But we studied so hard for the quiz," I explained. "A whole group of us got together and went over the material and worked problems. But we were blindsided."

  Byron looked around as if his tiny cubicle was bugged. "That's Dr. Rogers for you. She likes to mix things up."

  "But she won't go over the quizzes. She won't even pass them back so we can study them and see what we did wrong. It's like she's trying to fail us. And she's not fighting fair."

  Despite Dex's urging, I didn't want to lead poor Byron on. But it was hot and I'd worn short shorts. He was admiring my legs.

  I hated myself for doing it, but I played the damsel-in-distress card. "I'm on academic scholarship. I need this class for my minor. If I fail it, I'll lose my scholarship. What can I do?" I crossed my legs and gave him my helpless look.

  "Let me take a look at your grade." He brought the grades up on his laptop.

  I wished I could see the spreadsheet, but I couldn't see his screen from where I sat.

  "You got a five. That's very good. That puts you in the top ten percent." He flashed me a weak smile.

  I let out a sigh of relief. "That gives me an A, then?"

  He shook his head. "Dr. Rogers doesn't curve." He leaned across the desk and whispered to me. "There's never a good semester to take her class, or to be her TA, but this is probably the worst semester ever. She's in trouble over something with the department.

  "Last semester, she added two hundred points to everyone's grades at the last minute. Her way of curving. If she hadn't, over seventy-five percent of the class would have failed and the dean would have been livid. We don't have the staff or the funds to have students retaking chemistry again and again. And we can't afford to anger the alums and donors any more than necessary. Many of these students' parents are both."

  He lowered his voice even more, so low I had to lean across the desk to hear him. "When the dean found out what she did, he gave her hell and told her not to try that stunt again." He paused. "She won't be giving anyone extra points this semester."

  "What can I do?" I was still leaning forward, feeling like we were a couple of conspirators who could be dragged off to prison at any moment.

  He pulled open a drawer. "I'm not supposed to do this. Don't tell anyone. But I'm going over the quiz with anyone who comes in for help. If word gets out. I'm going to have to stop."

  I pulled out a notebook and nodded. "Your secret's safe with me." I was keeping a lot of them lately. "Byron?"

  "Yeah?"

  "What kind of cookies do you like?"

  At work, Jason was frazzled. "The baby's teething."

  My baby sister was teething. My daddy had stayed up with her. I felt a stab of jealousy. At the same time, I kept wondering if there was any way to get closer to Jason. I had to become something more than a student who worked in the office. I wondered if there was any way I could get him to mentor me like he did Logan. Maybe then I'd be able to determine what kind of man he really was and what had happened between him and my mother.

  Logan texted me that he wouldn't be in the office, but he'd like to meet for burgers after work. I wasn't going to turn him down. I hadn't seen him since Saturday night. It seemed important to see how things stood now that we had agreed to be just friends. Would it work?

  He was waiting for me outside the SUB wearing a big grin. He pointed to his watch. "I'm right on time this week."

  "Yeah, I can see. Gotta love a punctual man. No fire drills today?"

  "Calm and quiet."

  "Don't sound so pleased," I said as he held the door open for me and followed me into the SUB. "If things stay too calm, you'll be out of a job."

  He laughed. "How were things at the office?"

  "Karen was in a jovial mood. Her son got to play a full half in the football game. Jason was tired and bleary-eyed from being up all night with Mia, who is apparently teething."

  "He's a great guy and he sure dotes on his kid." Logan extended his arm, indicating I should get in line first.

  Yeah, I thought. One of them, anyway.

  We got our burgers and sat at the same table as the week before.

  "I think this is becoming our table," I said.

  "I like the view from here." He wasn't looking at the football field below. He was staring at me.

  I was totally confused. I smiled back, ignoring any implications he may, or may not, have intended. "How are classes?"

  "All right. I'm a senior," he said, slathering his fries with a crisscross of ketchup again, grinning as he did. "They cut us some slack. By now, they've given up trying to flunk us out. Their new MO for getting us out of here is to graduate us."

  "Must be the life," I said.

  "After a hellacious sophomore and junior year, I think I've earned it."

  I shook my head and smiled at him.

  "You?"

  "MIS 301 is cool. So is BA 315. But Chem 202? Let's just say we're already on the verge of rioting and planning insurrection. I've never done so relatively well and still failed.

  "We got our chem quiz scores yesterday. Mine was in the top ten percent and I still failed because I got fifty percent and the esteemed, arrogant bitch Dr. Rogers will not curve." I ranted a bit more, listing my grievances until I realized Logan wasn't sympathizing and laughing with me. He wasn't sharing any of his war stories from that class, either. He was staring at his fries and silently chewing his burger with as little enthusiasm as if he was chewing cardboard. And it may have been my imagination again, but I thought he looked pale. "Everything okay?"

  He shrugged. "Yeah, fine."

  "Jason said you did okay in her class—"

  "I can't help you, Ellie. I blanked it all out as soon as it was over."

  I tried to lighten the mood. "A big chemistry fan, I take it." I poked his burger basket.

  He remained stonily silent.

  I took a deep breath. "Okay, I get it. You hate chemistry. I don't expect you to remember it and help me solve problems or anything. I have Dex and Byron and my study group for that.

  "But if you could just give us some hints on how to study, how her devious mind works, anything that would help—"

  "No!"

  My eyes went wide. He looked really pale now and almost angry. It was a mood I hadn't seen before and it scared me. I should have backed off, but I didn't understand his attitude. I wasn't asking for much. "Okay, way to be a friend."

  I felt those perfect memories crumbling. If he was going to be crazy and moody, he wasn't the man I thought he was. He saved my life, but he wouldn't give me chemistry tips? It didn't make any sense, but it did hurt my feelings.

  He didn't respond so I dropp
ed it. We ate in uncomfortable silence. I lost my appetite and shoved my burger and fries away. I reached for my backpack. "I have to get going. Nic is taking me to the store so I can buy ingredients to make cookies so I can bribe my chem TA. Right now, his help is the only prayer we have of passing that class." I slid back, ready to rise and leave.

  "Don't do it, El." His voice was definitely shaking now. "Don't throw yourself at Byron to get a good grade." His voice was low and angry.

  "Jerk." I stood. "I'm only baking him cookies." I turned and walked off.

  "Ellie!"

  I ignored him and kept walking. My experience with Austin had taught me not to trust guys. It made me jumpy and easily spooked. Logan had just thrown up great big red flag. I blinked back tears as I heard a chair scrape along the floor behind me.

  "El! Ellie!" Logan came after me. He caught my arm from behind and swung me around to face him.

  My face flamed. I felt the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria watching us like we were having a lovers' tiff.

  "I'm sorry." He raked his hand through his hair. "I was being an ass. Don't leave. I'll take you shopping. You can bake your cookies at my place. You can't bake in the dorm. Their ovens are crap and if you turn your back for a minute, someone will steal your cookies." His tone was pleading. He was trying to smile, but it looked forced.

  And I was pathetic because I really couldn't hold my anger or even my hurt. With his yellowing black eye and the apologetic look on his face, he was handsome and heart-wrenchingly vulnerable at the same time.

  I stared at him. It would take a harder woman than I was to reject and walk away from him. Staring at him, I was struck by a realization. "That chemistry class is wrapped up in whatever you're dealing with." I paused. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was a trigger. From now on, talking about it is off limits between us."

  He clenched his fists at his side and a look of relief passed across his face. "Thank you, El. That was a horrible semester. I've been trying to forget what I remember of it ever since."

  "You're not making any sense," I said.

  "I am if you know what I'm talking about." He grabbed the straps of my backpack. "Let me carry that to my car for you. Let's go bake cookies."

  "Are you sure? It's still hot out and it will heat up your apartment."

  He grinned. "We have air conditioning."

  I gave him a playful shove in the arm, mostly because I couldn't resist the urge to touch him. My hurt and anger had washed away and been replaced with empathy. "Why didn't I notice that at the party?"

  "Too many hot bodies heating the place up."

  When I agreed to let Logan take me shopping, I hadn't thought about my reduced financial circumstances. And how my relative poverty and frugal ways might embarrass me. With most of my crowd, no one expected a big spender. Frugality ruled. One of the most popular shopping days of the semester was University Day at Shopper's Co. when everything was half price. They held it just before the semester started. The metro bus service ran shuttles from the university to Shopper's Co. because there was never enough parking and you were lucky to get into the place. Dollar pounder beer at happy hour was another popular favorite.

  But when I tried to buy the cheap, value-brand chocolate chips and imitation vanilla, Logan stopped me. "My mom is renowned for her baking. Everyone asks for her recipes, which she gives out freely. But she's been accused, more than once, of sabotaging them. She uses top ingredients and that's the key. Use crap ingredients, you get a crap product."

  "Thanks for that visual," I said.

  He threw the premium chocolate chips and the real vanilla in my basket. "Mom says you can't skimp when you want quality."

  I took them out and put them back on the shelf. "You can if you don't have a coupon and your bank account is running low."

  He pulled them off the shelf and put them back in my basket. "On me. It's the least I can do for your grade. Even though you are baking for another guy."

  I could tell it was his way of making amends, so I let him do it. I made a point of counting on my fingers. "Four other guys, to be accurate."

  "Four?"

  "Well, there's Byron and Dex and—"

  He grabbed my hand. "I get the picture."

  "Do you have a cookie sheet and cooling rack?" I asked him, crossing my fingers.

  "Babe, we have everything."

  "You didn't have vanilla."

  "I meant, I have excellent equipment."

  Guys and their innuendo! I raised a brow and ran my gaze down him. "I'm sure you do. Let's check out."

  "I thought you were going to say 'check it out.'"

  "I thought I just did."

  His apartment was mercifully cool and quiet, and surprisingly clean, especially given the party they'd recently thrown. "Who's the maid?" I asked.

  "Zave and me. Collin plans and shops. We do cleanup."

  "Hmmmm. You do good work." I sniffed. "And it smells good in here, too."

  "Air freshener. Zave's mom buys them for us to cover the smell of stale beer and ripe laundry." He grinned.

  "You actually listen to a mom?"

  "Never know when a girl we want to impress might pop by. It pays to be prepared."

  Why my heart should trill at that, I had no idea. We were supposed to be just friends.

  The roomies were out. Logan dumped our backpacks in the living room while I carried our groceries to the kitchen.

  "Help yourself in there," he said, and began calling out directions to where things were while I washed up.

  I could make chocolate chip cookies by memory in my sleep. In no time I had a batch in the oven and the apartment smelled like cookies. Logan hung over my shoulder, distracting me as I bent over and checked the first batch for doneness.

  "Not crispy enough yet," I said, about to close the oven door. "A few more minutes."

  "They look done to me." He was standing so close behind me that if I took even the tiniest step backwards, I would be pressed up against his dick.

  It was tempting. If we weren't trying to be just friends. "The dough is still white and barely warm."

  "I like my cookies soft and chewy." He was so completely adorable the way he said it, almost pleading and begging for me to please him.

  "I suppose that's the way your mother makes them?"

  "She does for me."

  "And I'm guessing there's an oven fee I can pay off in cookies?"

  He was still hanging over my shoulder. "Now that you mention it…"

  "Stand back." Against my better judgment, I took the cookies out and slid another batch in. "Another irreconcilable difference—I like crispy cookies and you like warmed-up dough."

  "Is that a deal-breaker?" He was eying the cookies.

  "It's not as major as the dark chocolate versus milk chocolate chip gap."

  He smiled. "You mean some people like milk chocolate chips?"

  "See what I mean?"

  We settled in to study while I baked. I texted Dex that I was in the middle of baking a bribe for Byron. Then we started instant messaging while we solved chem problems. I should say while I solved chem problems on the sly and Logan worked on his engineering homework. I didn't have a prayer of understanding Logan's homework, so I didn't ask about it.

  "Who are you talking to?" Logan asked me after I laughed out loud at one of Dex's snide remarks.

  "Dex, my lab partner for the class that henceforth shall not be named."

  "So that's why you keep covering your notes and laptop with your arm? Because you promised not to mention that class?"

  I nodded. "Sorry. But I'm still in it and I still have a pile of crappy homework to do for it."

  "That's a relief. I thought you were carrying on a clandestine relationship right across the table from me."

  I smiled in my most enigmatic way. "Who says I'm not?"

  "You don't have to hide your class that shall not be named homework."

  "That's a relief. I was getting writer's cramp in this position." I picked up my not
ebook and waved it in front of him, teasing him.

  "I didn't say flaunt it."

  I set the notebook down and stretched with my arms up and my elbows back. When I looked up, Logan was staring at my chest. He looked away quickly, but from his expression I thought he was having as bad a time dealing with the friendship only thing as I was.

  "We're going to have to come up with a shorter name for that class. But even as an acronym it's seven letters and we don't have any vowels to make something awesome and funny out of it."

  "I think 'hell' has a nice ring to it." He grinned at me. He was trying, really trying, I could tell.

  "I wonder if it has a synonym?" I looked it up on my laptop. "This isn't going to work. All the synonyms have to do with the attraction between two people. They're all way too positive."

  "'Hell' it is," he said.

  The stove timer dinged. I took out a batch of cookies and stuck the last batch in. Then I had to use the bathroom. I popped up.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "Um, to the bathroom. I was trying to be delicate and just sneak out quietly."

  He smiled. "And I'm trying to save you from being grossed out. Use the one in my bedroom. You don't want to go anywhere near the main bathroom right now. It's Zave's and he isn't the most fastidious, if you know what I mean. You know which room's mine?"

  I nodded. This was an open invitation to snoop. I really did have to pee—too much pop while baking cookies—so I ducked into the bathroom without noticing much more about his room than it was pretty neat for a guy's room. His bathroom was pretty tidy, too, and smelled like him—a heavenly concoction of his toothpaste, soap, shampoo, and cologne. I could have lingered in there just soaking in the scent of him.

  Once I was finished in the bathroom, I gently opened the bathroom door that led into the bedroom, hoping to give myself a few seconds to take in his private space before he got suspicious and wondered what was taking me so long.

  I paused and smiled as I looked around. There's a stage when you want to know everything about the new guy in your life. I was so deep into that stage that I couldn't see a way out. Even though we were supposed to be just friends, every new revelation about him was thrilling, even down to the fact he used soft two-ply toilet paper that was much better than the dorm's. See what I mean? I may have said he was just a friend, but the way I felt was something much more.