5. Jenna

5

JENNA

V as Singh, Vas Singh, what am I going to do about you?

I sighed, staring at my reflection in the mirror as I applied a light coat of lip gloss. It felt like a bit of a lie to be complaining about him. After all, it wasn't his fault that I couldn't stop thinking about him—had, in fact, been thinking about him nonstop in my free time for the past month.

I'd been interested in him before, but our coffee dates had only deepened his desirability. He was so passionate and invested in everything he was involved with. He was willing to debate issues and ideas, but he never shied away from asserting his opinions politely, and he had a lot of them. Somehow, our evenings together had morphed from talking about his story to talking about our lives.

I learned that he'd graduated from Stanford, had an older brother and three little nephews, had a loving relationship with his mother and a fairly cold one with his father, and he was, in fact, a big-deal CEO.

"I don't like to talk about it much," he'd confessed to me last week over a shared slice of coffee cake. "Once people know you run the sort of business I do, all they see are dollar signs."

"Then I appreciate you confiding in me. I certainly hope that you don't get the 'dollar sign' feeling from me," I had said a bit jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

"Not at all," Vas had assured me, his smile warm and genuine. "If anything, I feel you ought to let me do a bit more for you."

"You're already doing too much."

I'd let him drive me home the past two coffee dates—no, not dates, coffee meetings.

Meetings!

It had been nice to prolong the evening without worrying about catching the last bus back to my place.

"And yet I could be doing more. How do you feel about meeting for dinner next time?"

Dinner...

It felt like a huge escalation to go from coffee to dinner, especially since our conversational topics were so wide-ranging these days. These felt more like real dates than any I’d had in recent memory. Vas seemed to be genuinely interested in me as a person instead of just his teacher with mobile office hours or, surprisingly, even a hookup.

Ha, if it had been a hookup, I'd have been down at this point. I hadn't touched my Tinder app in months! But Vas didn't let on that he wanted anything like that, nor should he. After all, I was still his teacher.

Not after next week, though.

Next week was our last class, when everyone would read an excerpt from their story, and then it would all be over. He would leave, and I would be left here, and we would probably never see each other again.

I let myself do just enough digging to note that the production plant he'd been involved in setting up would soon be up and running, which meant that he'd soon be heading back to New York or London or Ahmedabad, one of the main hubs for his business, rather than staying here.

It must be such an exciting life. And yet, I had a feeling that it was a lonely one, especially since Vas didn't seem to have anyone special or even close friends. He never mentioned anyone other than his family members, and he didn't talk much about them either.

Still, that didn't mean that he was alone.

A guy like him, who was exceptionally good-looking, smart, and wealthy to boot, would have women swarming around him like bees around a honey pot, and I'm sure he wasn't chasing them away with a stick. He might not have a steady girlfriend, but he must have plenty of company when he wanted it.

I could find out quite easily.

Vas was a big deal back home, or rather, his parents were, so there should be plenty of gossip about him online.

I could look into it, but I didn't want to. That would ruin the illusion I was able to maintain that Vas was actually interested in me as a woman and not just his teacher.

It was a silly thought. He must be dating supermodels and actresses.

Still, he was taking me out to dinner tonight at a very nice Indian restaurant, one I'd been dying to try for some time, and I needed to enjoy what I had while I had it.

As for the rest?

Fantasies were fun to indulge in, but inevitably, they got quashed by reality.

It was just dinner. That was all. And I shouldn't entertain hopes for anything other than good food and a discussion about the script Vas was working on. He'd decided to turn his version of Aladdin into a screenplay, a format I didn't teach in my class, but he seemed confident about his ability to pull it off, which led me to believe that he had done it before.

How many times had he taken a class like mine? And why did he keep doing it when he was already so entrenched in his career?

Maybe I could ask him tonight.

The restaurant was within walking distance of campus, which was nice. The warm evening air carried the scent of blooming jasmine as I made my way down the street. I got there first this time, and after giving my name, I was taken to a fairly dark, intimate corner lit mostly by the candle on the table. The soft glow of the flame danced across the crisp white tablecloth, creating a cozy atmosphere.

The waiter brought me a glass of water and a plate of papadams with a trio of sauces. I dipped the cracker-like bread into each of them as I waited.

Mmm, sweet, salty, and spicy. Delicious .

"Do you like it?"

"Mm!" I raised a hand to my mouth to cover the fact that my jaw had just dropped—how did Vas move so silently? He sat across from me, a smile playing on his lush lips. God, he was so handsome in his tailored navy suit, the dim lighting accentuating his chiseled features. "I do like it," I said after a moment, trying to regain my composure. "I like the variety."

"This restaurant serves food in the style of my birthplace," he said, looking pleased at my admission. "A traditional Gujarat thali comes with a small amount of many different dishes if you'd like to try it. It's largely vegetarian, though," he added.

"Vegetarian is fine." I preferred it, honestly. "And I'm happy to follow your lead on the meal."

We ordered, snacked a bit more on the appetizer, and finally got down to talking about Vas's script. "I think it turned out very well overall," I said encouragingly.

Vas grimaced. "The dialogue still sounds awful."

"Dialogue can be one of the hardest parts for someone used to writing prose, but you just need to keep working on it. Read it out loud to yourself and test it; see how it sounds when you speak it."

"I've tried that, but it never seems to sound right coming from me. I'm not a good actor or narrator."

"That's not true. I've heard you reading your stories, and you sound great." I loved his upper-class accent, but perhaps that was what bothered him about the way he sounded. "Most people don't like the sound of their own voices, so I get it. How about using your fancy AI software? Perhaps you can get it to read the script to you."

Vas's hands went still, his expression suddenly guarded. "How do you know about my company?"

"I..." Oh, shoot, how was I going to talk my way out of this without sounding like a stalker? "I got to wondering about it after you mentioned shareholders in an email," I said apologetically, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "I didn't pry, I promise. Just read a couple of news articles about the manufacturing plant you've got going here for chips and... well, that's it."

"None of my personal information?" he asked stiffly, his dark eyes searching mine.

"None, apart from finding out your mother's name," I replied, my stomach twisting with guilt. God, I felt like such a jerk. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do something that would offend you."

"I'm not offended. I just don't like mixing business with pleasure, or rather leisure as it may be," he added, realizing how it had sounded.

"I get that," I said immediately, desperate to smooth things over. "It's like I don't talk with my students about the book deal I hope to get. It would sound like boasting, and it's unprofessional. I also would hate any of them prying into my personal life. We all have baggage that we would prefer to pretend doesn't exist."

"I appreciate your understanding." Vas took a long drink of his tea, his gaze thoughtful. "But now you've got me curious. What kind of baggage could an English professor possibly want to forget?" He leaned forward. "A nasty critique from snooty colleagues? A bad grade in the distant past?"

Obviously, he didn't believe that I could be hiding anything more serious than that, but he was wrong, and he could find out things about my life just as easily as I had found out about his.

Leaning back, I crossed my arms over my chest. "Well, there's the fact that my father is in prison for grand larceny," I said as lightly as I could manage.

Vas nearly choked on his tea. "I beg your pardon?"

"My father is in prison for stealing five million dollars over a decade." I tried to keep my voice steady. "He'll be in prison until I'm fifty, barring getting out early on parole, but since his victim is currently the governor of the state, I don't think that's going to happen."

A light sparked in Vas's eyes as my story clicked into place. "Your father was the governor's attorney. It was a big scandal."

I nodded, then shrugged, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. "Honestly, I don't know a lot of the details. I was in college when this all went down."

"Still, it can't have been easy to find out that your parent is a thief and is facing a long prison sentence."

Oof, that felt like he was going for the jugular. "It's still hard to deal with, but what choice do I have? It wasn't my doing, and there is no way for me to fix it." I smiled and tried to inject some warmth into my voice. "Although, given that he was donating almost all the money to the cancer research hospital where his sister had died, I've got to say that I do commiserate with his motivations."

"I do, too," Vas said, which surprised me. His expression softened, and he reached across the table, his fingers brushing mine for just a moment. "What do you think of the mint sauce?"

Talk about an abrupt change of subject, but I was grateful for it.

"I love it," I said.

From there, the conversation flowed into a discussion of food and literature. Nothing more was said of his story or my father's sordid past, and I was grateful for that.

As we shared a dessert of gulab jamun, the sweet syrup melting on my tongue, I couldn't help but steal glances at Vas. The candlelight cast a warm glow on his skin, and his eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he talked about his favorite authors. For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine a world where this could be more than just a lovely dinner shared by a teacher and her student.

Reality had a way of intruding, though. As Vas paid the bill, I reminded myself that this was likely one of our last meetings. Soon, he'd be off to his exciting life as a CEO, and I'd be back to my modest existence as an adjunct professor.

Vas Singh could never be mine, but perhaps we could enjoy one more nice meal together before he had to leave. Besides, he would visit occasionally to inspect the factory, so perhaps we could meet for coffee or dinner when he was in town.

As we stepped out into the cool night air, Vas handed the ticket to the valet. "I insist on driving you home. It's late, and I don't want you walking alone or riding the bus."

I was wearing high heels and a nice dress, and I wasn't looking forward to the bus ride either. "That would be lovely, thank you."