Chapter 6

Chapter Six

W hen I finished pretending to study, the library was empty of fellow students and Professor Wilder was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Cocoran was in the midst of finishing her closure process as I descended the stairs with my James IV volume in hand, pages of pathetic notes stuffed within.

Tonight had not gone as I'd planned and it put me in a grumpy mood.

The poor elderly woman started, her hand flying to her heart when she finally noticed me. "Vivian! Absolutely not, I didn't know you were in here. You nearly gave me a heart attack." Her eyes came to the ceiling above as she shook her head with a sigh. "They would kill me if they knew I'd left a student after closing."

I set my book on the counter, chuckling softly. "I'm so sorry, I got carried away up there. And what about the ghosts? They don't give you a fright when you're alone?"

"Oh lord knows they do, but none of the residents come barreling down the stairs in the quiet!" She smiled, her face still pale from the scare as she scanned my student ID and the book. "I'm going to have to give you a bell if you keep staying this late. "

"Go ahead and have it for tomorrow because I have a full schedule of studying this weekend." I tucked my book into the leather bag, snapping it shut. "Do you need any help tonight?"

"Nope, I'm about to lock up. Come on, we can walk together." Mrs. Cocoran shut down her station as I waited by the door, the lights throughout the library slowly turned black, casting a ghastly atmosphere about the space. It was almost suffocating in the dark, as if someone hung around every corner waiting to bind and gag you. Every ounce of comfort the light had cast over the space was gone, leaving sinister darkness to linger.

A shiver ran up my spine and I turned my gaze instead to the eerie glow of the lampposts outside.

Rain was steady still, splashing into the already soggy earth.

"Here we are, dear, let's get this door locked up." Mrs. Cocoran held the door for me and I stepped out into the rain, watching while she methodically sealed the building shut in her own little ritual. She finally slipped the ancient brass key into her coat pocket before opening her wide umbrella and beckoned me underneath. "No umbrella?"

"No, I forgot it on move in day. Silly, really." I admitted. Our steps were but splashes, blending with the torrent of rain.

"And your parents won't bring it to you? Have you not thought to purchase one from the bookstore?" She sounded…offended. And it was sweet, Mrs. Cocoran could only be described as a mother hen. Each of us who entered her hallowed hall were immediately adopted in some form or another into her brood.

I took a deep breath of petrichor, sorting my thoughts before I answered. Mrs. Cocoran didn't strike me as the type to judge, but would she be capable of understanding?

"My…parents cut me off…I have nothing to purchase an umbrella."

"What?" She was taken aback, rearing to look at me. "You can't be serious. Walt!" she nearly shouted as he occurred to her. "Why hasn't he gotten you one? It's been horribly wet lately, a hundred year rain they're calling it!"

"I don't know, I'll be fine. Walt and I haven't talked much. Something's been bothering him." I flicked the collar of my coat up, shielding my neck from the chill.

"Yes, I noticed that, too." Mrs. Cocoran's fingers fiddled with the string of her umbrella. "You ought to talk to him, and if he doesn't help you out let me know. They aren't that expensive and I can't have you out here catching cold."

"I appreciate you—" A flash of black caught my eye, a figure in a long, black hooded robe dashed from behind one of the buildings near Roosevelt House. "What was that?" I asked, snatching Mrs. Cocoran's arm.

"What?"

We scanned the space around us for any more movement as we continued toward the dorm.

"I swear…I thought I saw someone…?"

"You know kids sneak out all the time. Disgraceful, really. They can get in so much trouble if security catches them."

But it hadn't looked like a student sneaking out. Though I wasn't sure what it had looked like at all.

Unease blossomed low in my belly.

"Yeah, you're right," I lied. I didn't dare want to think about what I presumed it was, as Oakwood University was rumored to have a secret society…my imagination needed a break today.

Mrs. Cocoran dropped me off with a goodnight, heading back toward the staff buildings and I was grateful for her company on the walk home. Though I hadn't known who it was in the shadows, something told me in the back of my mind that it wasn't good.

I showered quickly in the last of the hot water, washing away the chill of the rain as best as I could while my mind buzzed annoyingly between Dr. Wilder's tattooed arms and the weird figure in the dark. I hurried quietly, contentious of the fact that few lights were on in the windows upon my arrival.

When I returned to my room, the radiator hissed its call, warning me that it would soon be filling the room with delicious heat. I sank under the covers in the dark, practically begging my mind to shut off as I closed my eyes.

Only, it wouldn't.

Images of Professor Wilder's unbuttoned shirt lighted behind my eyes, his strong arms with his lovely ink set my skin ablaze in the solitude of my room. He'd been so close, had snatched my wrist in such a domineering way that it had molten desire pumping through my chest and limbs, curling at my spine. His touch had branded me and I wrapped my own fingers around the very spot, remembering the glorious pressure of his grip.

How lovely would it feel to be elsewhere? My throat?

"Fuck," I hissed, slamming my thighs together as dampness gathered there. In my mind, Professor Wilder had pulled me into his chest, his mouth falling against my ear and warm breath flooding over my skin.

"You've been such a good girl, haven't you, Vivian? Reading your books and studying your material."

"Yes," I whimpered into the darkness, my hand falling between my legs as Dr. Wilder's own did in my fantasy. I teased my aching clit, hips bucking in an echo of need.

"What shall I do to reward you for your hard work?" he asked in my mind, my breasts pressing into the stacks. I moaned, fingers slipping into slick need, pumping furiously in and out and my other hand teased the turgid flesh of my nipple.

Professor Wilder's own fingers were curled inside me, pressing that glorious spot within, sending my body contorting in desperation for release.

"Are you going to come for me, Vivian? Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you clench around my fingers." I was trembling, the heel of my hand pressed against my clit.

"Yes," I moaned softly, imaging Dr. Wilder's mouth on my throat. "Please, professor, please ."

"That's it," he purred.

I snapped, my body arching off the bed, core clenching in delicious waves of an orgasm. Stars exploded behind my eyes until I was spent and fell, limp and sated, into the sheets.

For a moment, before my lids tumbled closed, I hated myself for what I'd done.

Because he was my teacher.

And, I reminded myself, an ass.

There were no classes on Fridays, which was a blessing when I barely focused the day before thanks to Dr. Wilder's distractibility in the library.

Bag packed full of my studies and feet tucked into my shoes, I threw my trench coat over my shoulders and tromped down the stairs before any of my housemates woke. I slung the door open into the chilled Autumn morning, surprised to find Walt standing with his phone in his hand. The weak morning light did little good to damper the sheen of his sandy hair.

"Oh, I was just going to call you," he said, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

"Good morning," I greeted with an arch of my brow. "Are you okay? You've been quiet lately."

He looked ragged, too. His hair was mussed and his shirt untucked. Under his piercing blue eyes were bags of deep purple as if he hadn't slept in ages. Walt shrugged, heading toward the SUV parked in front of Roosevelt House.

"Coming? I want some decent coffee, bad."

"Sure." I followed suit, sliding into the passenger seat as he turned the key and his engine rumbled to life. The car smelled of leather and gum, a stack of books and lacrosse stick were haphazardly thrown in the backseat.

"Are you going to talk to me about what's going on, or do I need to get Mother involved?" I asked as we drove off of campus, headed toward the little town a few miles away. Walt offered me a droll look, rolling his eyes.

"If you get Mom involved, I swear to god I'll rat on you, too."

I threw my hands up in defense, a spike of terror quick and sharp from his threat. "I just have concerns. That's all."

"I'm not sleeping well. Overloaded with these classes, I guess."

I cocked my head to the side, brows plunging. "Already? It's only been a month or so."

He merely nodded, woodenly as the smear of fall leaves passed by through the window.

"I can help you, Walt. If you need anything, you know that. Don't let yourself drown merely because you're the oldest."

He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. His jaw ticked a moment before he answered. "If you could help me, Viv, I'd have asked already."

My curiosity piqued and I didn't believe for a moment that homework or classes were the cause of his stress. We sat in silence until we came to the small French café in town frequented by the art students as their local hub off campus.

I kept my eyes narrowed on Walt, watching his every move and his heavy lids. He ordered us two black coffees and croissants, which we took to the back corner of the very quaint, very pastel shop .

"How are your classes?" he finally asked after we sat in our metal garden chairs and tore into our pastries.

"They're fine. You remember that asshole who spilled coffee all over me?"

Walt's eyebrow quirked.

"He's my Shakespeare professor."

He nearly choked on his coffee, setting his cup down so the back of his hand came to his mouth. My fingers wrapped around the wide, warm mug filled with the glorious black coffee. Its steam wafted in billowing curls and it was almost a like a hug to hold it.

"You're shitting me."

"Nope. He's still insistent that I spilled the coffee on him because I was in my phone. Won't even apologize." I sipped the hot liquid, its earthy bitterness strong. Chatter floated softly around us; an older couple sat by the window split a massive cinnamon roll. It was a slow moment, soft and gentle. The corners of their eyes crinkled and he laughed at something she said before placing a kiss to her temple.

What would that be like? My own parents never shared such intimacies.

"I only know one instructor who walks around with a regular coffee cup." Walt shook his head, drawing me back to our table at the same moment buttery sunshine burst in through the window. "It's Wilder, isn't it?"

"It is, indeed. He's so adamant it was my fault that he still uses the same damn mug as if to mock me."

"Jesus…is he good, though? Is the class worth anything?" Walt shoved a piece of croissant in his mouth as I considered.

Of course, he was good. He was engaging…passionate…consuming. I exhaled longingly, earning yet another curious look from my brother.

"Vivian," a voice crooned from beside us. I stilled, watching Walt's eyes narrow as the bastard himself approached our table. "Walter Junior."

"Dr. Wilder." Walt extended his hand, taking the professor's in his grip as if they were familiar with one another. I supposed they could have been, and I intended to ask Walt how. His knuckles turned white as Dr. Wilder smirked and my heart hammered against my chest, images of my stunningly filthy fantasy bubbled forth, heating my core.

Those fingers…

Dr. Wilder's eyes came to me, raised in expectation when his hand finally fell. "Vivian? No greeting for your most favorite professor?"

"Favorite. Right." I muttered under my breath.

"I'm sorry? What did you say?" he challenged as if he heard me.

"I said, good morning, Dr. Wilder," I grumbled, taking a gulp of my steaming coffee. Could he leave already so I might function like a normal human being again? It wasn't fair, I needed to get myself together.

"I'd like to speak with you this afternoon, in my office if you don't mind." In an attempt to quell Walt, Dr. Wilder gripped his shoulder. "Nothing horrible, big brother. She's been behaving somewhat decently in class."

Walt balked but recovered quickly. "That's great to hear, though, it seems the same can't be said for you."

"Walt!" I hissed, ready to come out of my skin as my stomach slid into my throat. It was enough for me to deal with Dr. Wilder on my own, but to have my big brother come to the rescue was nothing short of humiliating.

Dr. Wilder's mouth tipped up and he tucked his hands in his pockets. "Is that so? I'm curious. How have I misbehaved?"

"I heard you were the one who spilled coffee all over Vivian last month. She had some pretty harsh first degree burns down her whole chest from it."

Wilder's stormy eyes widened, all joking gone from his features.

"You were burnt?" he asked in a tone I had only heard from him in the library when he'd encouraged me not to linger late. Something soft…gentle.

Or maybe I was imagining it.

Either way, I nodded, crossing my ankles under the chair, and bringing the coffee back to my mouth to hide any mortification.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I told you that you needed a lid, lest you were in want of a lawsuit."

It was Walt's turn to hiss a reproach my way.

"I hadn't realized you'd been injured. I'm very sorry."

Whatever weight I had been carrying in my chest from the incident lifted, and my gaze collided with his. There was nothing but deep regret and sincerity in those steel colored eyes which swirled in some sort of torment behind large frames.

"Okay," I murmured.

I was ensnared.

Okay? Just okay? I could have smacked myself for the way his expression fell and he cleared his throat.

"This afternoon, if you would. My office is just inside the classroom. Sometime before dinner would be lovely."

"Yes, sir."

His nostrils flared and he bowed his head to us. "Until next time."

Walt gave a small wave and Dr. Wilder exited the café in quick lopes. I watched as he set off down the sidewalk until he disappeared from view, locked onto his mountain lion gait .

"I don't like him," Walt grumbled after slamming his empty cup on the table.

A smile crept over my mouth, one I couldn't control. "You got him to apologize. That's…unheard of."

"The way the bastard has the audacity to look at you like you're his own personal peepshow, combined with the fact that it's taken someone else to get him to apologize for burning you, makes me irate."

I sputtered laugh. "His own personal what?

"Come on, Vivian. Don't act like that, you know exactly what I mean and I'm sure you eat it up."

I dusted my fingers off over my plate, chewing the last buttery bit of croissant as I shook my head. "No, I don't."

"Watch him when you go to his office today. I know that look; like he's imagining what you look like naked." He shuddered. "I ought to go fuck him up."

"Walter. He does not look at me like that. Plus, he's my professor , for Christ's sake." Though, I was aware of his eyes on me in class, the way they would always find me, always probed for a challenge…I assumed it was due to our rivalry. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Be weary, for me, please. He's fucking weird, man."

"If you say so, Walter." I leaned back in my chair, arms coming over my chest.

"Have you made any friends?" he asked after a moment of silence. The crowd was filtering into the shop now, voices grew louder and almost numbing but the sunshine continued, warming my cheek.

"Yes. A girl next door, her name is Sam."

"Is she nice?"

"If she wasn't, would I have befriended her?"

"You're not nice, so…" Walt chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. "Did you know that Mom cut me off? "

His gaze snapped from his plate up to mine. "What do you mean?"

"She cut me off, turned off my card or something. I tried to buy an umbrella and it declined."

"Did you call her?"

"Of course, I did. She said I had to bring up my GPA and then breezed off the phone like she does." My jaw worked as I thought of it again.

"You forgot your umbrella?" Walt scrubbed his face in frustration.

"Yes. I've been braving all this rain without one. It hasn't been terrible, though."

"Why didn't you ask me?"

I laughed humorlessly, "Come on, Walt. I've been trying to get ahold of you since the first day back."

"Shit." He sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry." He pulled his wallet out, shoving a stack of bills into my hand. "Take those, I'll talk to Mom."

I tucked the money into my own wallet, slightly relieved to have something to my name. The issue still prickled over my skin like a wire brush, coarse and grating, tearing into my flesh as a constant reminder of my dependency upon the precarious relationship with my mother.

The chair scraped against the floor as I stood, hiking my bag up. "Can you drop me off at the library? I have a ton of work to do."