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At some point, while reading the dry material, I dozed off. Instead of getting any measurable amount of reading done, I woke up to a dark, quiet room and a really stiff neck. The glasses I wore for reading were askew on my face from where I’d slumped over into the pillow stack.
Shepperd wasn’t in her bed when I checked, so I wandered out to the kitchen. The clock on the oven said it was just after two in the morning. My mom left me a note on the island that she wrapped a plate for me and left it in the refrigerator. She was always thinking of us, no matter what she did. Honestly, though, I wished someone would’ve woken me up. Now, if I had any hope of making a dent in my assignment, I’d be up for the rest of the day.
With a plate of warmed-up pasta, I quietly crept back to my room. The food smelled heavenly, and my stomach rumbled, knowing it would soon be full and happy. I was so nervous around Dr. Chaplin that I barely ate lunch. My imagination toyed with me much of the day, and I kept feeling like the man was carefully studying me when he thought I was too deeply engrossed in my tasks to pay attention to what he was doing. When I lifted my focus from whatever I was doing and looked across the desk, he’d quickly busy himself with something. After the fourth time catching him staring at me, I was convinced it wasn’t my imagination.
So the self-doubt set in. Why was he watching me so closely? Did he not think I could handle the simple tasks he gave me? I hoped it was just us getting to know each other and that he’d realize he could give me more important things to do and trust they’d be done properly. If the babysitting feeling was still there after week two, I decided I’d have a conversation with him.
The grant we were applying for first had a very simple list of requirements. I had offered to work on the cover letter, but he said no. The experienced teacher explained he always did the cover letter last so it would read more like a conclusion or synopsis rather than an introduction.
After considering his explanation for a few minutes, the only answer I could come up with was, “Okay.”
Trying not to feel affronted, I waited for the task assignment he thought I could handle, and, well…it never came. If I were expected to simply shadow him for the next ten weeks, I’d go batty. I needed to be productive. I learned much faster by doing, and if it came down to it, he and I would have that discussion as well.
Now I had a very full stomach, and looking through the binder he sent me home with was putting me to sleep faster than a sci-fi movie. The more I read, the more bored and frustrated I felt. There was nothing of value in the entire notebook. It was a detailed outline of the very basics in applying for a grant. I’d studied this material in my second year.
I slapped the vinyl cover shut and tossed it to the foot of my bed. Apparently, with a little more force than I thought, because it slid right off the mattress and hit the floor with a thunk. When I got out from under the covers to retrieve the damn thing, I noticed several pages were sticking out and the front cover had broken at the spine. I could replace the damaged pages by copying the originals and swapping them out. But that left the bigger problem.
I didn’t have a four-inch three-ring binder just lying around to swap the stuff into. Who would? I could just imagine the lecture I was in for about disrespecting his property or some nonsense like that. It was an accident! Accidents happen all the time.
This was ridiculous. It was approaching three in the morning, and I was getting myself near hysterical over torn pages and a damaged notebook. Why did this man have me so on edge? If I couldn’t find my footing where he was concerned, I’d have to drop the internship. I didn’t want to spend my summer tied up in knots over a man I couldn’t stand.
Hell, I just dumped my boyfriend for the same reason.
But if I gave up on the internship, any hopes of being accepted into the master’s degree program or being able to pay for it would fly right out the window. My parents agreed to cover four-year programs for all of us if we chose that route, but they also said we were on our own for postgraduate studies.
Okay. Okay. I needed to calm the hell down. My anxiety was nothing like our sister Hannah’s. Thank God. I usually could get a grip on my physical state before it got out of hand.
Lots of inner dialogue, lots of self-coaching about regulating my breathing. See? There was nothing wrong here. That professor was just another person. Just another man. He didn’t really have some sort of weird spell cast over me that made me want to please him beyond reason. He wasn’t really as attractive as I’d been daydreaming about in the shower. He wasn’t really staring at me constantly.
All in my overactive imagination. I took another deep breath and blew it out through pressed lips. The air made a little whistle on the exhale, and I was thankful Shep wasn’t home to have witnessed that near meltdown. I decided to put the homework to the side and get some quality sleep. That nap I had earlier in the evening could carry me through the day if it had to, but if I wanted to be firing on all cylinders, I needed some deep sleep. I set my alarm for five thirty and turned out the lights. Hopefully Shepperd was out for the night and wouldn’t come busting through the door at any moment.
But there was no escaping him, even in my dreams. Although the version of the man I had conjured in sleep was much more delightful. Much more engaging. And, heaven help me, much more appealing. Of course, we were back in that damn shoe-box-sized office, although in my dream, he had me spread out on that old wooden desk we were sharing and was looking up at me from between my legs. His eyes were so dark with lust, they looked black. As I arched into the climax he so masterfully brought me to, my alarm sounded, and the whole fantasy poofed out of existence.
What the hell was going on? I was not hot for Professor Chaplin. No way. I didn’t need all kinds of confusing hormone-fueled thoughts complicating an already crappy situation. I couldn’t deny the facts of my physical state, though. That dream was so damn vivid and good, I was still shaking from the orgasm. No point in beating myself up over it though and wrecking the high and consequential peace I always felt after getting off.
So I lay there a few more minutes and enjoyed the sensations coursing through my body. God, it had been too long since I had this feeling. Honestly, Joel was a terrible lover. It wasn’t that he was selfish. Quite the opposite. He tried too hard to please me. In the end, it basically came down to I just wasn’t into him. I trusted my heart and my head on the fact that you shouldn’t have to try when you met your person. Everything was supposed to fall into place and just be right naturally. With Joel, it just wasn’t right. It was that simple.
Time to get up, though, so off to the shower I trudged. This one was solely to wake up so I was at least functioning. If I could get out of the house with enough time, I’d hit the coffee shop on campus and get a caffeine boost.
Shepperd still wasn’t home, and it didn’t dawn on me until I stood on the long driveway helplessly staring at the spot our shared car was normally parked. How the hell was I going to get to school if she didn’t pull in within the next few minutes? I was going to chew her a big fat new ass for this.
Professor Chaplin made it explicitly clear that he didn’t tolerate bullshit reasons for being late or not showing up. I whipped out my phone and feverishly scrolled through my apps to call for a ride. I barely had enough money to buy a cup of coffee, so how the hell would I pay for a ride to school?
Calling any of my other sisters for help was out of the question too. Hannah lived in Malibu. By the time she got up and got to Brentwood, it would be lunchtime. Agatha was as irresponsible as Shepperd. Yes, she was doing so much better with that husband of hers on board, but I wouldn’t ask her to bail me out of a jam unless I had no other choice.
Okay, I needed to calm down. I was standing in our driveway trying to make sense of the hire-a-ride app on my phone, and my hand was shaking so badly I could barely see the instructions. I mashed a few prompts on the display, and thank God! Toby was only two minutes away in a sensible red Nissan.
Thank you, Toby.
I’d figure out how poor Toby was actually going to be paid for his service on my ride to campus. I knew if I got in a serious bind—like I would definitely classify this as—my folks would slide me some money until I found a way to earn some myself and pay them back.
I needed a job. Then I could buy my own car and wouldn’t have to be in this situation ever again. But even if I worked full-time all summer, I still wouldn’t have enough for something road worthy. Everything was so damn expensive in Southern California. Well, everywhere, really.
My ride stopped at the end of the driveway, and I hustled to him. I slid into the back seat, slightly winded from the freak-out and the jog down to meet the car. Toby was a nice enough guy, even if he looked in the rearview mirror more than he did through the windshield. We actually plowed through a red light at a thankfully empty intersection because he was more concerned with my plans for the day than getting us to school safely.
“Oops, missed that one.” He laughed and looked back at me again.
“Please keep your eyes on the road. I need to get there alive,” I said once my stomach dropped back to its rightful place from where it had lodged in my throat.
