Page 18 of Echoes of Us

A shley woke in a panic, her heart already racing.

Weak morning light filtered through the dorm room's thin curtains, painting patterns on her rumpled sheets.

She'd barely slept - Ezra's warnings tangling with memories of Cole in the library, leaving her tossing and turning until dawn finally crept in.

Her stomach twisted as she reached for her phone, not even sure what she was hoping to find. Several texts from Marie about post-finals plans. A missed call from her mom. And then...

The screen lit up with a new message. Unknown number.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she swiped to open it. She'd know that commanding tone anywhere, even through text. The same way she'd known his handwriting the moment she saw those cards in Dallas, the same way she'd know his touch even in complete darkness.

Noon. Sterling Memorial Library. Third floor study room 304.

A few seconds later, Sarah stirred to find Ashley still staring at her phone, a mix of anticipation and dread making her fingers tingle.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Sarah mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

More like a future that might never happen, Ashley thought, but she just smiled, already planning her outfit in her head. If Cole wanted to play professor and student, she'd make sure he regretted every minute of his careful professionalism.

She waited until Sarah disappeared into the shower before opening the message again.

Sterling Memorial Library. Her heart skipped.

Not Bass, where every undergraduate camped during finals week, or the bright, open Cross Campus.

He'd chosen the most beautiful, most private library - all cathedral ceilings and hidden alcoves, where afternoon light painted the space with soft shadows and the saints in stained glass cast silent judgment from above.

The third floor was particularly notorious. Private study rooms lined labyrinthine corridors, each one a world unto itself. The perfect choice for serious studying.

Perfect for other things, too.

Heat bloomed low in her belly at the thought.

This wasn't her Cole - her Cole who'd spent years learning every inch of her body, who knew exactly how to touch her, to taste her.

This was a younger version, filled with angst and barely contained anger.

The kind of boy your mother warned you about, the kind who'd ruin you and make you thank him for it.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. Four hours. She had four hours to prepare, to arm herself against whatever game he was playing.

The shower shut off, and Sarah emerged in a cloud of steam. "You're still in bed? Don't you have that thing with Cole?"

"That thing," Ashley repeated dryly, but her heart skipped at his name. "You mean tutoring?"

Sarah's eyebrows disappeared into her wet bangs. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yes," Ashley said firmly, though her fingers clutched her phone tighter. "That's exactly what we're calling it."

"Mhm." Sarah started rummaging through her closet. "That's why you've been staring at your phone like it might bite you for the past twenty minutes."

Ashley threw a pillow at her, but her friend just laughed.

"All I'm saying is," Sarah continued, dodging another pillow, "if you're going to let Cole Westwood 'tutor' you, at least wear something that'll make him yearn."

Ashley already knew what she was going to wear.

She stood before her closet, fingers trailing over hangers until they found what they sought - the dove-gray sweater dress she'd brought from home on a whim last week.

The cashmere was butter-soft against her skin as she slipped it on, the material following her curves like water.

In the mirror's reflection, the dress was a study in contradiction - modest in its coverage but sinful in its cling, the hem hitting that sweet spot mid-thigh that drew the eye without revealing too much.

She chose her undergarments with equal care - black lace that made her feel dangerous even if no one would see it.

The sheer black tights went on next, transforming her legs into something almost sculptural.

Her heeled boots added inches she didn't need but wanted - not to match his height, but to make him look.

Her hair she left loose around her shoulders, dark waves catching the morning light.

She remembered how future Cole loved to wind it around his fist, how his fingers would tangle in it when he kissed her.

This Cole might be determined to keep his distance, but she knew his tells - the way his eyes followed the movement, the way his hands would twitch with the urge to touch.

As she applied a final touch of gloss to her lips, she studied her reflection. The girl who looked back wasn't the harried student from yesterday or the wife from her future. This was someone else entirely - someone who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it.

"Holy shit," Sarah breathed from the doorway. "You're serious, and you're going to war!"

Ashley smiled something wicked and anticipatory curling in her chest. If Cole wanted to play professor, she'd make sure he remembered exactly who he was dealing with.

Her heels clicked against ancient stone as she climbed Sterling's steps, each sharp sound matching her heartbeat.

Warm May sunshine spilled through the Gothic windows, casting long fingers of light across worn marble.

The usual study crowd had thinned - most already done with finals or holed up in Bass Library's fluorescent-lit depths.

Three minutes to noon. She took the stairs instead of the elevator, letting the anticipation build with each step. The dress moved with her, the soft fabric brushing against her thighs. Second floor. Third. She turned down the corridor, her footsteps muffled by thick carpet.

Room 304 waited at the end of the hall, afternoon light slanting through its leaded glass window. But it was the figure beside the door that made her steps falter.

Cole leaned against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, reading from a battered physics text.

The sight of him stole her breath - dark jeans that fit him perfectly, a black henley with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, revealing corded forearms. His signet ring caught the light as he turned a page, the motion drawing attention to those elegant hands she knew so well.

He looked up at her approach, and for a moment - just a heartbeat - something hungry flashed in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by cool professionalism that had to be practiced.

"You're late," he said, though they both knew she wasn't.

"You're early." She moved closer into his space, catching a hint of his cologne - something fresh and masculine that made her want to bury her face in his neck.

His eyes flickered over her once, assessing rather than appreciating. "Shall we?" He pushed open the door, revealing a small study room that felt more like a confessional booth - all dark wood paneling and filtered light.

One table. Two chairs. Not even three feet of space between them.

Ashley's mouth went dry as she followed him in. The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that made her shiver.

"Before we begin, I’d like to see what I’m working with," Cole said, spreading his notes across the table. "Show me how you'd approach this problem."

She leaned forward, deliberately letting her hair fall forward over her shoulder. This close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body, and she could see the steady pulse at his throat. His eyes remained fixed on the textbook as if she were nothing of particular interest.

Fine. She had four hours to make him break. And Ashley Carter Westwood had always been good at playing the long game.

The next hour was torture of the sweetest kind.

Cole kept a careful distance as he explained concepts, but in the small space, every movement brought them closer.

His arm would brush hers as he leaned over to correct an equation.

His breath would warm her neck when he looked over her shoulder at her work.

Each accidental touch felt deliberate, charged, though his face remained impassive.

"You're thinking about it too hard," he said, his voice low and close to her ear. "Physics isn't about memorizing formulas. It's about understanding patterns."

She fought back a shiver. "Easy for you to say."

"Here." He reached around her to draw a diagram, his chest almost pressing against her back.

"Think of it like a dance. Each particle follows specific steps and specific rhythms. Once you understand the basic pattern.

.." His hand moved across the paper, creating elegant curves that somehow made perfect sense. "Everything else falls into place."

She turned her head slightly, putting them almost nose to nose. "And if I miss a step?"

For a fraction of a second, his eyes dropped to her mouth. Then he straightened, putting careful distance between them. "Then we practice until you get it right."

The next problem involved calculating force.

Ashley bent to retrieve a fallen pencil, making sure the movement showed off every curve the dress emphasized.

But when she straightened, his eyes were fixed firmly on the textbook as though the perfect arc of her ass was less interesting than Newton's laws.

Something inside her bristled. Her Cole - future Cole - couldn't keep his hands off her in moments like this. The way this version maintained such rigid control made her want to break it.

She noticed other things, too - things that surprised her.

The way his explanations stripped complex theories down to their bones, rebuilding them in ways that actually made sense.

How he'd approach a concept from different angles until something clicked.

The slight furrow in his brow when he concentrated, the same one she'd seen a thousand times across their kitchen table.

"You're good at this," she said, surprise coloring her voice.