23. Nyssa

23

NYSSA

SOBER II (MELODRAMA) - LORDE

"That feels so good," I sigh, soaking in the warmth of his bathtub.

Theron twirls his fingers in the soapy water, crouched beside where I'm sitting. He's spent the last few minutes ensuring the bath was everything I preferred—the right temperature, the right amount of suds and soap. He's brought my wine glass for me to sip on and has taken to gently stroking me here and there.

As I sink deeper into the water, he reaches over and brushes my cheek. "Are you sore anywhere?"

"The warm water's helping. So is your touch."

His hand falls to my kneecap. "I like having you here. In my home. In my space."

"Is that your way of asking if I'll spend the night?"

"You know exactly what I mean, Nyssa." His wide shoulders lift as he releases a deep, vexed sigh. "I don't know if I can wait so long."

I frown. "Wait so long for… what?"

"I'll be your professor for the next year and a half."

Oh.

Oh no.

Dread immediately thickens inside me at the realization he wants to talk about our future. Of course it would be on his mind at forty-two. We've been seeing each other for weeks now, but never with any label… or promise of anything more than the present.

It's been implied he's expected more. He thinks of me as his girlfriend.

We're exclusive.

His jealous rage over Samson and his father demonstrated that.

But I've always kept the idea of a real, defined relationship at arm's length. It's been what I've had to do in order to move forward with my plan. I can't plot and scheme for revenge if I'm emotionally invested in my crim law professor.

I can't do what I'll need to do if I'm leading with my heart, not my head…

When my silence answers him, he runs fingers through his rumpled hair and then lets out a dark laugh.

"Of course. I forgot to consider the very obvious fact you're twenty-two. You're just starting your life and probably want no real attachments. Certainly not to some man twice your age. The same man who happens to be your professor," he says matter-of-factly. "This is some kind of… fling for you. A rebound for Wicker?—"

"You're not my rebound," I blurt out against my better judgment.

But he needs to know that much.

What I had with Samson was never real. Kissing him felt like kissing a slimy toad.

Every moment was torture .

Whereas every moment with Theron has been… my body trembles while my heart flutters inside my chest.

"This isn't some casual fling for me," I go on. "Trust me, I don't… do this often. I don't just go around and sleep with older guys. Or any guys for that matter. You've been my first in a while. I was, um, a little embarrassed by it in my circle. Heather stays with different guys and so do Katie and Macey."

"Is that why you started dating Wicker? For appearances?"

I sit back against the porcelain tub. "Something like that. Was Veronica your last?"

"Unfortunately."

I smirk. "That makes me feel very special."

"You should." He leans forward to kiss my cheek. "Hungry?"

"After that intense workout? Starving. But you don't have to—Theron!"

He disappears from the bathroom before I can finish protesting. I have no choice but to soak in the warmth and await his return.

In his absence I use one of the loofahs he's given me and begin working it over different parts of my body. It's true that I'm a little sore after our session in his bedroom, but the residual aftereffects outweigh any aching.

I'm still so sensitive in the best way, my pussy swollen and tingly. I'm already certain I'll have a good night of sleep.

No one has even come close to pleasuring me like Theron has.

Hell, most of the college guys at Castlebury barely know where to find a woman's clit, let alone give us orgasms.

Theron is unmatched.

"In every way," I mutter under my breath. I slump deeper among the frothy bubbles 'til they're coming up to my chin and the curls on my nape are wet. Lost in thought, I don't really notice.

Theron feels that I'm unmatched.

Some special woman that he can't stay away from.

There might be a huge age difference, but we connect mentally and physically.

…emotionally.

I squash that last thought with a sharp shake of my head.

Emotions don't matter. I promised myself when I transferred to Castlebury and started this long, tenuous road for revenge, I wouldn't be emotionally compromised. Everyone at Castlebury is a pawn or a perpetrator I'll make pay.

Nothing more.

Easier said than done when Theron returns a few minutes later holding a charcuterie board. My eyes round at the delicious offering as he walks it over to the edge of the tub and sets it down for me to dig in.

"Not the fanciest meal… but I remember you once mentioned you like them."

"Are you kidding? My mouth is watering."

"Enjoy."

I don't even know where to pick from first. He's set it up as meticulously as only he could—the large tray features deli meats and cheeses, pretzels and carrot sticks, toasted crackers, and several spreads.

Chocolate.

I scoop up a few slices of salami and cheese. "Eat with me. I can't finish this all by myself."

He obliges my request, selecting some carrot sticks. We spend several minutes grazing on the board of finger foods as I go against my vow and press him about the future.

"You think a year and a half is too long to wait…"

"It would be longer than that, Nyssa," he says. "You might not be my student anymore after you graduate law school, but we'd still have to exercise caution. If we were to be together right after you graduate…"

"Then people will put two and two together and realize we were messing around before that."

He picks some crackers to add cheese spread on. "Precisely. Your reputation wouldn't recover."

"Mine?" I ask, my brows rising. I finish the apple slices I've been nibbling on and follow his lead, going for the crackers and cheese spread.

"Yes," he answers. "If we're being realistic about the situation. I've seen this song and dance before."

"Care to elaborate?"

He sighs, his brows pinched, his expression best described as tormented. "In this kind of society… in this community, I could maybe recover. My family name is enough. My standing is solid enough. But you…"

I laugh as I understand what he means. "You mean I'm a newcomer? Some young Black girl without the fancy family name to protect me?"

"I know these people. How these situations play out," he says, caressing his hand along my head. "It doesn't matter that I'm older. That I should get the blame. That I abused my power as a professor and took advantage of a student?—"

"No," I interrupt, "you've never taken advantage of me. I've made choices to be with you. I've wanted everything we've done. If anything, I made a move on you?—"

"Nyssa," he cuts me off right back. His tone's hardened, grown more disciplinary. "Listen to me very carefully. If a situation does occur where we are caught—really caught—you will not tell them it was your choice. You will tell them I took advantage of you. I pressured you and used you. It was all me."

I blink at him. "You want me to throw you under the bus?"

"Yes. If there's even a chance we can save your reputation and career prospects. I'll be fine."

A feeling I can't describe washes over me and almost makes me want to tear up. An alarming enough turn of events considering I almost never cry.

Yet here I am, listening to Theron telling me he'll take the blame, and my eyes are suddenly itchy.

I look away, fighting against the intrusive thought about why I'm feeling this way…

Stay strong.

"Are you ready to come out?" he asks. He rises from the side of the tub and grabs one of his giant bath towels. "How about we get you changed into one of my hoodies and then head downstairs to watch one of these TV shows you're always bringing up? Atticus also needs some attention. He's been whining in his bed."

A small laugh tumbles out of me as I give a nod and stand up in the middle of the bathtub. Water sluices down my naked body, cold air rushing me. Theron's wrapping me up in the warm, cozy towel not a split second later. He grabs my hand and carefully helps me out. I let him lead me out of the room into his closet with the same intense feeling trapped inside me.

No matter how many times I push back, it returns stronger than before.

They don't mean anything. None of them do .

Theron does…

"It seems Atty is as enamored with you as Peaches is with me," Theron says in amusement. We're huddled close on his sofa, the TV playing the movie we've selected for the evening. As soon as Theron put his arm around me and pulled me against his side, his golden retriever stood on his hind legs and dropped his head in my lap.

A soft giggle leaves me as he licks at my hand and peers up adoringly at me like I'm his new stepmom.

I indulge him with plenty of scratches and strokes. "You are such a happy boy, aren't you, Atticus? Your owner could learn a thing or two from you."

Theron glares. "Perhaps make sure I'm out of the room before you trash talk me to my dog."

"Don't worry," I whisper to Atticus. "I'll sneak you an extra snack when he's not looking."

"That's one way to win him over. He'd let burglars rob the entire house if they brought him a milk bone."

"Very smart. He might as well get something out of it." I lean back against Theron's side, watching as Atticus trots back over to fetch a toy from his bed. "I've been meaning to ask you. Did you name him Atticus for the reason I think you did?"

"If you're asking about Atticus Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird , then yes. You'd be correct."

I laugh despite myself. "Of course, you'd name your dog after a fictional lawyer."

"And one of the greatest literary works to ever exist."

"That's so… you ."

His arm tightens around me and he nuzzles his face against mine. "You enjoy these little brainiac details about me. Mainly because you're a brainiac yourself."

I hum in thought. "I was valedictorian."

"High school or college?"

"Both. You?"

"Same. Though I graduated high school a year early."

"Nerd," I snort. The word barely leaves me before Theron's making me pay for my teasing. He tugs me down 'til I'm laying head first in his lap and then drops several warm kisses all over my face and throat. Including the spots where I'm ticklish. I squirm amid his attack, trying to get up only to be held down in his lap.

The movie we've put on is long forgotten about.

So is the discovery I made only moments ago before I even came downstairs.

Theron had told me to pick something out of his closet to wear; something that's comfy and warm for the movie we'd watch. As he left the room, I padded into his closet and reached for one of the hoodies hanging on the rack.

The last thing I meant to do was knock over a shoebox that contained private documents inside. The contents spilled out of the box at my feet. I'd glanced up to make sure I was alone before I knelt to collect everything.

It was impossible not to notice what some of the papers were. There was a manila folder that had Theron's name scribbled onto the label. I peeked inside to find a police file about an arrest that had been made in June 2005.

A mugshot of a twenty-two-year-old Theron stared up at me. The same man, only two decades younger, with his unruly dark hair and glasses.

But that wasn't the only notable thing I'd found.

The other was a letter. Some kind of break up letter written to him by a woman named Josalyn Webber .

Theron,

I had to write this instead of telling you to your face. I knew you'd talk me out of it. You'd make me feel bad for walking away from you like this. But I've told you we can never be together. I've made my choices and you need to accept them. Your friendship has meant so much. It'll always be special, but please let it go. Please let me go.

Love, Josalyn

Theron had called my name from downstairs and startled me. I had jumped and then rushed to cram everything back into the shoebox and return it to its place in the closet. Half a minute later, he'd come up to look for me.

I'd put a smile on my face and pretended like I hadn't been snooping.

An hour later, as we cuddle on his sofa, I can't help keeping what I'd read on the back of my mind. I'm not sure what to make of it, except to note that Josalyn Webber had been one of the victims of the Valentine Killer.

Theron had been a law student at the time…

"What's on your mind?" he asks, interrupting my thoughts. He stares adoringly at me, stroking my cheek. "Hungry? Cold? Want to watch a different movie?"

"It's not even halfway over."

"I think we all know what's in the box. Though Kevin Spacey plays a convincing villain. "

"Maybe it's a little true to life," I murmur, then I yawn. "I'm just tired."

"Tonight you'll sleep in my bed. Where you belong."

The fondness I already have for him expands inside my chest, fighting off the curiosity I'd had earlier in his closet. I'm still lying in his lap when I smile up at him and then nod. "Okay, Professor. You know what's best."

He returns my smile but punctuates it with a soft kiss to my lips. "How about we head on up?"

I let him lead me as we get up off the sofa, turn off the movie, and head toward the stairs, Atticus on our heels.

What I saw could mean something or it could be insignificant.

For now, I'm willing to pretend it's the latter.

Half an hour into the Fairchild's winter solstice dinner party, I'm itching to go home. Diamond-like Christmas lights gleam from every direction as I stand among the rich and fabulous. The hall the party's being hosted in is bathed in white and gold, from the tasteful but enormous Christmas trees lining the room to the golden wreaths and ribbons hung as decor.

I'm dressed in a shimmery emerald dress and heels with my curls cascading around my face. I've come solo despite the fact that almost every other woman my age dragged along a date.

Heather breaks apart from Claude Wesley and cuts a path straight toward me between mingling party guests. She's golden from head to toe, her long blonde hair blending a little too perfectly with the metallic gold dress and bangles she wears .

"Nyssie, you came! And you're stag. So bold." She gives me a quick hug I don't return. Before she pulls back, she whispers with a giggle, "But I'm sure he would've loved to be your date if he could."

"Samson?" I ask loudly.

Several people nearby glance over curiously.

"No," I continue, "remember, we broke up because you slept with hi?—"

"I was kidding, Nyssie!" she hisses. She smiles politely at the people staring, as if she hopes they haven't figured out what I was about to say. "I didn't realize Adler's such a touchy topic for you."

"I didn't realize you were going to bring it up every time I see you. What happened to the secret's safe?"

"It's safe," she says poutily. "But, speaking of secrets, have you heard about Macey and Paul Templeton? Now that's a scandal."

I'm only half listening as Heather launches into the latest gossip about Macey sleeping with pimply-faced, overweight Paul Templeton.

Others in the room have caught my attention more.

Ms. Wicker seems to be in good spirits considering she lost her husband only weeks ago. It seems she's able to schmooze with the Cummings over champagne and luxury vacations.

My gaze swings from her to Dean Rothenberg in the middle of a deep discussion with Pamela Williamson, the faculty head at school. Lucas and some of his fellow rugby pals are loitering at the refreshments table.

Without Samson.

After being kicked off the rugby team and recently losing his father, he must've skipped tonight's event altogether. Katie isn't here tonight either .

I move on to other familiar faces, even spotting none other than Theron's ex-fiancée. Veronica Fairchild lets out a poised laugh as she chats up one of the board members for the school.

If only Theron were here to mock how insufferable they all are with me…

He's texted me a few times tonight to see if I'm okay. Texts I've left on read. I had decided I couldn't mix any more of my feelings into these situations where I have to be on my best game.

But as I stand in the middle of this party, I can't deny where I really want to be.

"Nyssie," Heather says, waving a hand in front of my face. "Did you hear what I said? I was asking about the attorney you've referred me to. They won't answer my calls?—"

"I'm exhausted," I say. "I think I'll leave now."

"What? But the party just started."

I push my flute of champagne into her hand. "At least I showed up. Say hello to the others for me."

Heather calls after me several more times to no success.

I stride from the hall to a few more stares and some muttered gossip, but I don't give a damn. Any social damage, I'll worry about later.

I order a rideshare home and slide into the backseat firing off a text to Theron.

Hey, just left the party. Are you home?

Part of me wants to give the driver his address and show up by surprise, though I decide against it and let him drive me home.

We pull up twenty minutes later with my feet aching to take off my heels and rain pouring from the sky. I ride the elevator up to the fourth floor, grateful that I'll at least spend the rest of the night cuddling with Peaches. I approach my front door as I always do, fiddling for my keys.

A premonition I can't explain washes over me the closer I make it. I stop and stare for a second, looking up and down the otherwise silent hallway.

No one's around. My neighbors are silent.

It's minutes after nine o' clock.

The creeping feeling goes nowhere as I step forward and unlock my door.

Right away, Peaches meows and darts toward me. I kneel to meet her. "What is it, my sweet girl? What's wrong?"

My spooked ginger cat doesn't need to meow or quake any more in order to point me to what's off about the moment.

I discover it for myself when my gaze lifts and I spot what's splattered on the floor.

A single droplet of blood…

At that exact moment, my phone pings with a text message from an unknown number.

If you want the truth, find out for yourself.

21.8975° N, 52.0465° W