Page 4

4

B reakfast turns into sex, which lasts until lunch, which is followed by more sex.

Which is followed by frantic knocking on my apartment door.

Sighing, I free myself from Roan’s arms, pull on his T-shirt, and head for the door. I already know that Nina is standing in front of it, probably seething because I haven’t answered my phone all day.

“Oh, good. You’re not dead,” she says when I open the door.

“Nope.”

She glares at me. “Then what’s your excuse for ignoring me all day?”

“I’m old and wrinkled and so forgetful that I haven’t charged my phone.”

“Uh-huh.”

She pushes past me into the apartment, looking around like a hunting dog. I’m half-surprised that she doesn’t point her nose in the air and sniff.

At that moment, a very sleepy, very naked Roan comes out of the bedroom.

Nina’s eyes almost pop out of her head. Stunned, she looks at me for a moment before returning her gaze to him, running her eyes up and down his impressive body again.

A devilish grin pulls at her lips. “Uh, sorry. I didn’t know you had company.”

Roan doesn’t seem to mind that he’s completely naked because he approaches Nina and holds out his hand. “Hey, I’m Roan.”

Nina shakes his hand. “Um, hi…I’m Ni…I mean, Nina.”

I suppress a grin. At least Roan also makes an impression on happily taken, obviously pregnant women.

“Oh yeah, he’s the other reason I didn’t answer my phone,” I declare, almost smugly, as it’s somehow to my credit that I’ve bagged a demigod.

“Good reason,” she comments. Her eyes flicker almost unwillingly down to Roan’s penis, and her cheeks flame red.

Roan gives me a cocky grin, and I clear my throat.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” Nina jerks her head up, her cheeks still bright red. She shakes her head and seems to remember what day it is. “Oh, Happy Birthday, sweetie!” she shouts before throwing her arms around my neck. “By the way, you don’t look old and wrinkled at all. Must be all the hot sex.”

Roan laughs, not even trying to hide the fact that he is listening.

“Don’t you want to put some clothes on?” I ask him pointedly.

He shakes his head. “No, I’m waiting for our next round.”

My jaw drops open at his arrogance, but Nina laughs. “Good man. I won’t interrupt your next round any longer. Jenna, dinner tomorrow?”

I give her a teasing glare. “If you don’t fall asleep again.”

She grimaces. “You’ll probably hold that against me forever.”

“Nah, just for the next hundred years,” I say, smiling warmly at her.

Nina looks at Roan, nodding appreciatively once more before saying, “It was a pleasure, Roan, and I expect she’ll still be beaming like that tomorrow. If she can even walk straight, that is.”

Roan salutes jokingly. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

Nina grins before kissing me on the cheek and saying goodbye.

As soon as I close the door, Roan comes to meet me.

“She saw you naked,” I say as I press my cheek against his chest.

He smirks. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” I say too quickly.

“There’s no reason to be.”

I grin, my shoulders relaxing. “I know.”

But strangely, I do feel the oddest bit jealous. Not because Nina saw him naked, but because once he walks out of my apartment, I won’t see him again.

But that’s silly, of course. One night, no commitments.

Exactly how it should be.

At some point in that long, endless, sex-crazed day, it has to end. After countless rounds, countless orgasms where his rough hands gripped me tenderly, Roan sets off.

He tells me he has to go to the central market, to make sure that his brother Cian’s pub can continue to delight its guests with rustic Irish cuisine for the upcoming week.

I don’t want to let him go. I try to make my way to the door as slowly as possible, kissing his lips until my own mouth feels bruised.

But then, the moment of farewell is upon us. Roan caresses my cheek gently and kisses me softly once more. “When will we meet again?”

Here it is. The moment of truth. “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“This is more of a screw and forget sort of situation.”

He grins, running his rough thumb over my lips. “Like you could forget about me, sweetheart.”

“You wish, asshole,” I retort, knowing he’s absolutely right.

“So you only have one-night stands?”

I nod. “Exactly.”

He thinks on this for a moment, then gives a brief nod as if deciding something. “Okay then, that’s fine. You have a dinner date with Nina tomorrow, but can I see you on Tuesday? Are you coming to the pub?”

I look at him, confused. “I just told you…”

“I understood just fine. We only had sex this one time.”

I nod. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Then everything is clear. Are you coming at eight?”

Irritation prickles down my spine. Is he deliberately misunderstanding me?

“No. I won’t be at the pub,” I say, enunciating my words. “Because this was a one-night stand. Understand?”

He smirks. “First of all, it was almost a two-night stand, but I like you. I’d fuck you every night, but if you don’t want to, then I won’t. Still, I want to see you again. As friends.”

I stare at him as if one of us is slow to understand—and it’s not me. “You’re a walking cliché, Roan. Staying friends?” Trying it with humor, because I don’t know how else to react.

He grins and brushes the hair out of my face. “I’ll be your best friend, a thaisce .”

I shudder at the feeling of his hands on my skin, and against my better judgment, I ask, “Just friends? Without benefits?”

“Without benefits, if that’s what you want.”

I can’t resist the alluring pull of his eyes. “Okay,” I sigh, admitting defeat.

His smile becomes more genuine. “So see you at the pub on Tuesday, at eight?”

I catch myself nodding. “I’ll be there.”

He steps closer. “If I’m never allowed to kiss you again after today, Jenna Scott, I’ll have to take advantage of it now.”

He pulls me to him, kissing me hungrily, as if it had been days since the last time our lips met, and not just minutes.

And I understand exactly how he feels because I kiss him back just as greedily.

“I wrote the address for the pub on the mirror for you,” he whispers before breaking away from our embrace. He brushes my hair out of my face one more time, giving me a long look, before leaving with a cocky grin and a whistle.

Whistling! As if he doesn’t mind at all that we’ll never have sex again.

Which is, of course, exactly how I feel too.

Right?

I lie down for another three hours before my alarm goes off and I have to go to university to give my seminar. The seminar in which Cillian Walsh will be. No idea how it’s going to go. How much can I rely on Roan’s brother’s words? What was his name again? Keane?

Not important.

If Cillian wants to cause trouble, he will, whether anyone gives him permission to or not. The advantage is that I’ll know immediately if he’s planning to make a scene. As soon as he sees me, I’ll be able to see which way the pendulum is swinging in his mind.

I try to calm myself down by asking how bad it would be if he told his fellow students that I like to party outside of university hours.

But unfortunately, different standards apply in our world. Men can get away with certain things that will still give a woman a bad reputation, especially in the academic world.

So, I’m not particularly reassured as I drive to campus, even though I tell myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m young—or at least I was, when we met.

So what if I partied and showed some skin? Okay, a lot of skin. Still, what was the problem with that?

Except I kept seeing Cillian’s face. He hadn’t been impressed by his cousin’s interference, that was for sure. And he’s just the type to make trouble. I’m sure of it.

I park in one of the faculty parking lots, then go to my office, which I unfortunately have to share as an associate professor.

Unfortunate because I have this fantasy of having sex in an office. But clearly not in this office.

Ted, my colleague and officemate, is already there. As always, he greets me warmly, with hopeful, almost puppyish eyes.

I know he has a crush on me, but I’ve never brought it up between us. It would be an easy way to satisfy my office-sex fantasy, but Ted isn’t my type at all—physically or emotionally.

Even the fact that he has been pining after me for two years doesn’t make the situation any better, because I don’t like the kind of man who can feel that way for so long without saying something.

I need self-confidence, maybe a touch of arrogance, not toward myself, but toward the world. Someone who not only knows his own worth, but lets the world know it every time he walks into the room.

Against my will, an image of Roan pops into my head, but I shake it away. We’re just friends now, whatever that means.

“Hey, Ted,” I say, giving him a friendly smile.

He smiles back, hopeful as always. “Hey, Jenna. Do you have lunch plans?”

I cluck my tongue. “Sorry, I already have plans with Lana.”

This, at least, is true. Lana is a professor in history. She is the only colleague I have more contact with, probably because we both started at the same time and therefore understand how difficult it is for young women to assert themselves in academic circles. One would think that in such enlightened places, progress would be made, but that’s not the case. The old men who hold the professorships are unwilling to relinquish their power anywhere.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Ted replies, looking cast down.

His hangdog expression every time I turn him down is also not appealing at all. I could never imagine Roan taking a “no” like that.

He would probably shrug his powerful shoulders and move on. But then I’d grab him and turn him back, and we’d sink to the floor and make out…

I shake my head, my skin flushing hot at the vividness of the sudden daydream.

I shouldn’t think about Roan like that anymore; he was just a one-night stand. I’m not entirely sure it’s a good idea for us to be friends, but somehow, it doesn’t feel right to banish him from my life entirely now. I don’t know why.

I look at my watch, take my papers, and say goodbye to Ted, then head to my morning seminar entitled: “How American Politics Affect Latin America”. I brace myself before entering, still worried that Cillian will try something.

“Good morning,” I say as I walk into the room.

All the seats are taken, as usual. Cillian is in the front row. He gives me a dirty look but says nothing. Just as I’m sorting through my documents, the projector comes on and throws light onto the screen behind me.

I turn around in irritation, and then my mouth falls open. On the screen is a photograph. Of me. In my nearly-naked outfit from Saturday night.

What a little dickhead, I have time to think before the shit hits the fan.

“Wow! Ms. Scott, is that you?” exclaims one of the twerpy guys Cillian always hangs out with.

I have two options. To be embarrassed or to grab the bull by the balls. And I particularly like grabbing balls.

“Of course it’s me. That woman is hot.”

Quiet laughter rings the lecture hall, and a few guys grunt in agreement. In the front row Cillian glares at me, but I hold his gaze.

Like I’m going to let some little fucker with shit for brains mess up my day.

“You certainly do have a pair of beautiful…eyes,” jokes Cillian’s other buddy, clearly ogling my larger-than-life breasts.

“It’s okay. You can say it. Beautiful tits.”

Now, there are cheers from around the room, and not just from the men.

Cillian looks at me angrily. I give him a superior grin. He’s no match for me. But I’ve made my point, and now it’s time to get on with our lives.

“Mr. Walsh, would you mind shutting off the projector so we can turn our attention to the Sandinistas in Nicaragua?”

For a moment, he just glares at me and says nothing. Hoping that’s the end of it, I turn back to my computer.

“Are teachers allowed to walk around like sluts?”

Suddenly, the room goes completely silent. Not even his two buddies make a sound of agreement.

“Women aren’t sluts just because they wear short dresses,” I reply. My gaze locks with his, not letting go.

“But if they take home a guy they just met, then they are.”

“Not even then.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I think so. You should be a role model, but now everyone just looks down on you because you’re acting ridiculous.”

Confident of victory, he looks around him, begging for applause, which he doesn’t get. Not even from his buddies, who look away, embarrassed.

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face neutral. “You will leave this room immediately, Mr. Walsh.”

He crosses his arms over his chest. “I will not.”

“Yes, you will. I’m removing you from this course. Which means you won’t have the points to graduate this year. And if you don’t remove yourself from the premises, I’ll call security.”

Cillian looks at me, first in angry shock, then in dawning horror. He probably never meant it to go this far, but it was too late to go back now.

So, he decides to take it even further.

“I’ll fuck you up, you stupid bitch!” he shouts as he jumps up. For a moment, I’m afraid he’s going to launch himself at me, but instead, he knocks over his chair and punches various pieces of furniture on the way to the door, which he pushes open so hard that it crashes against the wall, shattering the glass.

I swallow hard, trying to remain calm, but I’m shaking inside. These are the situations that every woman is afraid of. The ones that happen all the time for the smallest of reasons.

“Close the door, please,” I say to the young man sitting near the exit before looking at one of Cillian’s buddies. “You—can you please turn off the projector?”

The young man fiddles around a little nervously with the machine before the light goes out.

Breathing in deeply through my nose, I begin to pass around a stack of papers. “Now, let’s get down to our actual topic.”

Despite everything, the lesson goes well, but I’m also glad when it’s over. As soon as my students clear out, my knees begin shaking uncontrollably.

I would very much like to bury myself in a lonely little room right now. I would describe myself as confident and strong, but physically I can’t compete with a man, and in situations like this, I realize it.

But that’s probably how every woman feels from time to time.

Just as I’m about to go to lunch, the secretary for our head of department intercepts me.

He wants to talk to me.

She never mentions his name, but she never has to. We all know who she means.

Henry Clairmont is not a man to be taken lightly. Blessed with a brilliant mind, he has a quick temper that makes my impatience laughable. The stories people tell each other in the faculty lounge, behind closed doors, about his behavior toward students back in the old days are pretty intense.

I knock on his door and wait for the imperious “Come in” before I enter.

I shouldn’t be surprised that Cillian Walsh is sitting there, along with an older gentleman. His father, I’m sure.

Honestly, isn’t it weird to show up with your parents when you’re in college? I think to myself.

Mr. Clairmont gives a stiff nod. “Ah, Ms. Scott, there you are. Have a seat. This is Mr. Walsh. You know his son, Cillian.”

I sit down, already boiling with rage. This little fucker has put me in this situation, even though he’s the one acting like an asshole. I want to rip his head off.

But instead, I smile blandly as I sit down. “Of course.”

The older gentleman leans forward and looks at me. “Ms. Scott, my son told me that you kicked him out of your class. He is graduating this semester and needs the credits. Therefore, you are going to reinstate him.”

I look at Cillian, who glares back at me arrogantly, certain of his superior position. I shake my head. What a bastard.

“Did he tell you why I kicked him out?” I ask.

Mr. Walsh waves a dismissive hand. “Whatever it was, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“He called me a stupid bitch.”

Mr. Walsh blinks and furrows his brow, but then his expression clears. “That’s unfortunate, to be sure, but it’s still no reason to ruin my son’s graduation.” He looks at my boss. “If you simply reverse this decision, we won’t complain, but otherwise…”

He leaves the rest unsaid, but the threat is implied.

But this man has underestimated Mr. Clairmont’s ego. “Are you threatening me?” he asks, glowering.

Mr. Walsh doesn’t blink. “I won’t have to if she takes my son back.”

Mr. Clairmont puffs himself up. “I will not allow my employees to be insulted. If your son insulted Ms. Scott, he’s lucky to avoid expulsion.”

Cillian looks at him in shock. This conversation is clearly not going the way he thought it would.

“Excuse me?” says Mr. Walsh indignantly. “If you even consider that, you’ll hear from my lawyer.”

“I apologize,” Cillian interjects. He’s looking at me. Not sincerely, mind you, more like he’s been force-fed vinegar. “I apologize, Ms. Scott, for insulting you.”

“Thank you,” I reply tersely. What else can I say?

“Then I can go back to your course?”

I shake my head. “No.”

His expression becomes enraged. “But I apologized.”

“You should have thought about that beforehand.”

His lip curls into a snarl. “You goddamn…”

“Cillian!” shouts his father sharply. Obviously, his father’s word is law because the young man immediately shuts his mouth.

Mr. Clairmont shakes his head. “Young man, this is not the behavior we want from our students. We have a code of conduct that we all abide by. If you can’t seem to follow our rules, we’ll have to call the campus police.”

“That’s certainly not necessary, Mr. Clairmont,” Mr. Walsh hastens to say, glaring daggers at his son. Then he looks at me. “Ms. Scott, what does Cillian have to do to be allowed to attend your class again?”

I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing he can do.”

“Only because I embarrassed you,” interjects Cillian.

I shake my head, my patience wearing thin. “You didn’t embarrass me just because you showed a photo of me in my free time.”

“You didn’t like the fact that everyone now knows you’re a slut!” he shoots back hotly.

“Cillian!” Mr. Walsh looks like he’s about to explode, just as much as I am. Then he sighs before asking Mr. Clairmont, “Would a sizable donation solve this problem?”

I shake my head in bewilderment. In my wildest dreams, I would never have thought of asking such a question. But rich people obviously think differently.

Mr. Clairmont sighs, tilting his head. “Depends on the amount.”

Is he serious?! “Absolutely not!” I try to say.

“Ms. Scott, I’ll take care of this,” Mr. Clairmont says, cutting me off.

Cillian looks at me, triumph glowing in his smug face. He has won. Because of daddy.

Daddy pulls out a checkbook, scrawls on it for a moment, then slides a check across the table.

Mr. Clairmont picks it up and his eyebrows go into his head when he sees the figure. He nods. “Agreed. Cillian can rejoin the course.”

Again, I try to protest, but this time he silences me with a look.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Clairmont. Ms. Scott.” Mr. Walsh stands up and says goodbye briefly and curtly. Cillian follows, still grinning smugly.

It is so unfair. How can he just buy his way out of his bad behavior like that?

As they close the door behind them, I turn to Mr. Clairmont. He raises his hands in surrender.

“I know you’re angry, Jenna. You have every right to be. I’m not thrilled that they can buy their way out of it either, but that’s the way it is.” He picks up the check. “This amount will do a lot of good for our department. So, you’ll have to bite the bullet.”

“You could have put him in a different course, at least,” I counter.

“Not this late in the semester.”

“But throwing me under the bus? How do I look in front of the other students?” I demand.

He sighs. “I don’t think the way he treated you was right, I made that clear, but we can’t live on the love of knowledge alone. That’s just the way it is. You’ll have to come to terms with it.”

“You tell every female student and every female colleague that a man can behave however he wants, that he can swear at her without there being any consequences.”

He rubs his brow, clearly finished with the argument. “Don’t dramatize everything. Everyone knows that money makes the world go round.”

“But that shouldn’t be the case. Especially in political science, we also teach idealism to a certain extent if you think of the theorists of the past.”

“But we live in the present, Jenna. I understand your anger, but I’ve decided. Now you have to live with it.”

I am boiling with rage but also helpless to do anything to change the situation.

“You’ve done a disservice to all the women at this university,” I snap before leaving the room. If I have to listen to one more appeasement, I will start to cry.

Outside, I take a few deep breaths, but it doesn’t help. I can feel the tears welling up. I text Lana that I’m not feeling well, then go back to my office.

Ted has obviously gone out for lunch, too, for which I am grateful. I quickly pack up my things and head to my car. Instead of going home, I drive the short distance to the botanical gardens. I need to be outside, in nature. Nature always helps.

I park and walk a little way until I come to a quiet corner, where I lie down on the grass. I stare up at the blue sky, wondering how such an unfair system can exist, remembering that it’s been this way for centuries. At some point, I lose all hope for humanity. What a load of crap.

After a while, I sit up, pull my bag over, take out the homework I need to correct, and get to work.