Page 8 of Allured (Love and Burlesque #1)

CHAPTER EIGHT

EZEKIEL

A pain in the sash.

T his is the fifth time I’ve reread the same sentence. Breathing out a long sigh, I decide to give up on my attempt to grade and close down my computer for the afternoon. As much as I like to be efficient with my time, it wouldn’t be fair of me to grade my students’ work when the only thing on my mind is him .

My week has been terrible. Full of stumbling through lectures, accidentally making the simplest mistakes, like adding salt to my coffee in the professor’s lounge. I swore my mouth was as dry as the Atacama Desert for the rest of the day.

Which would explain the stumbling after that particular accident, I suppose.

Longing thoughts have been all the company I’ve kept this week. I wouldn’t even know who I could talk to about what’s going through my mind at the moment, specifically due to the fact that I don’t understand any of it, myself. I don’t think my therapist specializes in homosexual awakenings.

Alek .

The name repeats itself in my brain, invading any minute I find myself free, and in several instances, when I can’t afford to be distracted.

Running my hand through my hair, I lean back into my office chair and close my eyes for a moment.

I’m taken back to last Saturday. It feels as if it has been both a lifetime and a single second since I met the man who plagues my thoughts. It’s only been five days, to be exact.

The number he chiseled into my forearm is long gone but I find myself running my fingers over the area without thinking, like right now. The fingers of my left hand glide over where Alek’s number was marked, carefully not applying too much pressure as if the numbers were still there to be preserved. I can’t explain the bit of peace the motion brings me. My forearm was never so noticeable to me before.

I haven’t called. I haven’t texted. I’ve been too afraid to look at my phone at the contact I made for him. Being the linguistics enthusiast that I am, I had immediately thought to research the etymology of his name.

Aleksander: Greek origin; ‘defender and protector of man.’

I had saved his number with his name and the definition. I couldn’t stop thinking about how it would fit him.

I’ve been fascinated by the notion of names carrying some sort of predetermination for how someone’s personality will form. Is Alek protective of others? Does he defend and love fiercely? The questions swirled in my mind all week.

Meanwhile, the origins of my name came from my mother’s love of her religion. Ezekiel: Hebrew origin, ‘God strengthens.’

How often have I been puzzled by my own name’s etymology? There have been major parts of my life and mistakes made in the past, all due to my lack of strength and conviction. I didn’t feel like predetermination was a factor with me. I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m currently in if that were so.

“Ezekiel?” A familiar feminine voice coming from the hallway reaches my ears.

My eyes open slowly, adjusting to the overhead lighting of my office. I must have been lost in thought for longer than I realize and I have to get used to the bright lights once again.

A tingling sensation remains on my arm as I remove my hand and set it back on my desk. I make myself busy and pack away my belongings for the day, seeing as it is now nearly six in the evening. Hopefully I’ll at least look like I’m in a better mindset than I truly am.

“There you are!” Anna chirps, her auburn hair taking an extra moment to stop as she all but twirls into my office. If there were ever someone who embodied a princess, it would be my cheery sister—in—law.

“Are you ready to go?” Her tone isn’t impatient, only eager, as she notices me packing the last of my things away.

“Of course.” I stand and respond with a smile and a nod, grabbing my messenger bag and pushing in my chair before walking over to her.

She must have changed in her office, unless she taught her classes today in a frilly dress with a glittery sash that reads TROPHY WIFE.

I pause my stride and gaze at her with a questioning look.

“Is it customary for me to wear a sash as well?”

If it isn’t evident already, I've never attended any bachelorette parties and I don’t know the requirements for attire. I don’t often find myself in large groups with big celebrations but Anna needed a designated driver, and I did say I was happy to assist in any way that I could. Additionally, I have also been quite curious about Knight’s entertainment establishment. Why the solemn man was the owner of a burlesque club, I wouldn’t know, but maybe a night out of the ordinary is something I need after the week I’ve experienced.

Anna’s responding smile is devilish to the point of almost making me uncomfortable. If it wasn’t for her kind eyes and the fact that she is family, I would be terrified.

“Oh I’ve got one just for you.” She reaches into her bag and produces another glittery pink sash. The menace dangles it between her fingers and waves it in front of my face in a teasing manner, purposely moving it too quickly for me to read it.

“What does it say?” I ask and reach for the offending item. Extending the sash in front of me, I finally read what it says. My mouth pouts and I cannot help but to roll my eyes at her.

“Seriously, Anna? I have to wear—” Her snorting laugh cuts off my question that I already know the answer to. She takes the hideous sash and lifts it in her hands near my head, a clear indication that I do, in fact, have to wear this obnoxious thing.

“I regret this. I should be watching Jeopardy in my pajamas, not putting on this ugly?—”

“Oh hush, you know it’s all for fun.” Anna smiles and I bend forward so she can loop it around my head, and then below my shoulder. I remind myself how I agreed to this, and I want her to have a good time. I know I can endure this sash for a night and get everyone home safely.

“There you go, now everyone will know you’re our designated driver.” She pats my chest and smooths out the embarrassing ribbon that reads I LOVE DOUBLE D’s.

I groan and flick at the sash like it’s burning my skin. It’s a justified reaction, in my opinion. I could be watching the Jeopardy Tournament of Champions right now. Instead I am parading around in an inappropriate sash.

Let’s go for ‘Ways to Get Punched by Women’ for 200, Alex.