11. Ronan

Ican't stop thinking about Fletcher. This is a real problem. It's been three days since we kissed and he took me out to the lake and we talked.

And he mentioned a summer loophole.

God, how badly did I want to take him up on that. Just let go and go for it for once in my life. Do something without really thinking about it. But I can't do that. I won't let myself.

I worked too damn hard to throw it all away for a summer fling.

And that was exactly what he was offering.

Hearing his story was eye-opening and tragic, but it doesn't really change anything. It can't. He's a student. A student I need to stay away from.

But because fate loves to fuck with me, as soon as I get settled at my desk in my office, in walks Fletcher. Man, does he look good. Of course he does. He's built and strong. His arms are bare because he's wearing a tank top—bright blue today. It matches his eyes. And his charcoal shorts cling to his perfectly sculpted ass far too well.

"Fletcher, what are you doing here?" My voice has no edge to it whatsoever.

I expect him to flirt, maybe even bring up the summer loophole again. Could I resist it if he did? But then I see Annie walking in right behind him, and my entire demeanor freezes.

Of course he's here helping the professor he'll be assisting next semester. Because he's a damn student, and that's why he's on campus.

Fuck. Me.

"Hey there, Professor," he says with a flirty smirk, but my smile has faded into a stern glare. Doesn't bother Fletcher in the slightest. "I'm here to help Professor Briggs."

"It's summer," I say in Annie's direction.

She doesn't seem bothered at all by my salty tone. She just waves me off. "We're done now, actually."

Fletcher parks his ass on the corner of my desk, making himself right at home. "She has a couple of classes this summer, and I told her I'd help with anything she needed. Even though I'm not a student at the moment." His eyes hold mine, and his intention is clear.

He wants to make it very well known that he's not a student. But he is. No matter how he spins it.

"I'll be right back. I'm going to go grab my purse," Annie announces and leaves.

I immediately stand up and walk over in front of Fletcher, where he still remains perched on my desk. What would it be like to spin him around and take him right here. Right now. Slide into his warm heat. The grip would be unbelievable. I'd never come back from it. There's no way I could. One kiss and I'm already addicted to the thought of having him.

"Professor?" Fletcher breaks through my dirty fantasy, his eyes glistening with mirth. He knows what I was thinking about. Heat creeps up my neck, and I do everything I can to push it away.

That would end my career.

As it should.

That won't be happening.

"You shouldn't be here," I try, forcing my thoughts away from fucking him over my desk toward the sickening thought of being caught. That isn't exciting for me. That would be devastating.

"It's really not a big deal."

"It is, Fletcher," I argue.

But he just stands up to his full height now, his body emanating heat. "I really like the way you say my name," he purrs, and damn it, I lean into him. Not close enough to touch, but it doesn't matter, I'm pulled to him all the same.

"Whoops." I hear Annie's voice, and I jerk back quickly, my gaze whipping over to her. She looks flustered but not upset. Not like she just walked in on one of her best friends—a professor, just like her—almost kissing a student.

Again.

"Did I interrupt something?" she asks, studying us closely, but she looks almost amused.

"No," I say quickly.

She smiles at me, it's a cocky sort of grin I don't love, and then she looks over at Fletcher. "You ready to go?'

"Go?" I ask.

She nods her head easily, slipping her purse on across her chest. "Yeah. I told him I'd buy him a burger at our favorite place."

"Our favorite place is a bar," I say stupidly, and she just continues to grin.

"It is."

"He's not twenty-one," I say, and just the words unsettle something deep inside me. Eighteen. He's eighteen years old. Shit.

"That's okay," Annie says, waving Fletcher on to follow her. "He can have a Coke with his burger. Come on. Nathan is meeting us there."

"Annie," I say but have absolutely no idea of what to say.

Fletcher doesn't really give me a chance though. "Don't worry, Professor," he says far too easily. "It'll be just a little bit of summer fun."

I could kill him.

I really could.

He knows exactly what he's doing. But he just walks right behind Annie, all innocent-like when I glare at him.

Not a damn care in the world.

And why should he? He's young and having a good time, as he should. He deserves that. I know that now. I've thought so damn much about it over the past few days. His constant need to always be on. To put on a show. That air of arrogance he works so hard to portray. It's clear now, it's an act. One carefully orchestrated so no one sees below the surface. He doesn't want anyone to know just how deeply the pain runs. And I want that so badly for him.

But he's not the one with so much to lose.

I can't just have fun.

I can't.