Page 17

Playing with Ice and Fire

W hen they made it back to Ashgrove, Liam stuffed his cartons of ice cream in the freezer. He wasn’t in any true hurry to depart; it was already dark out, so what was the point? Instead of rushing to drive back to a dorm that wasn’t home to two beautiful women, he enjoyed the time he spent with Avril and Anna, including those promised leftovers. Anna didn’t ask too many questions about how things had gone at Carver’s, which Liam was thankful for. The less he needed to bend the truth, the better his conscience felt. Even if he now believed that Anna was more or less aware of how intimate his relationship with Avril was.

It was an odd wrinkle in everything, and Liam wasn’t sure what, if anything, he ought to do about it.

“By the way, don’t forget about that,” Avril said, pointing her spoon at the board near the kitchen table.

“I haven’t,” he said, which was the understatement of the year. “I’m going to be spending a fair number of my points before I go.”

“Oh? Consider my interest piqued. Where does our decider want to go? He’s finally figured it out?”

“You’ll see,” he said, which caused her to puff a cheek out. He didn’t speed up how quickly he finished his plate, even if he aligned more with Avril’s impatience than he let on. He was curious how she’d respond to the ploy he was about to enact, even if he couldn’t let her in on precisely what he was after.

After finishing his dinner, then intentionally delaying things by helping Anna clear the plates and get everything cleaned up in the kitchen, he found Avril waiting for him near the mounted whiteboard, twirling the lone marker between her fingers. Eyebrow arching, as if she expected he’d ultimately underwhelm her with whatever ploy he was working, she tossed it to him. After catching it, popping off the top, and using his body to shield Avril’s sight, which earned him a snort, he started with the points he owed to Victoria’s ideal destination.

Fiji’s thirty-five became forty-seven—twelve points for the small collection of pictures he’d received over the week. But then his eyes focused on the other destinations, which now seriously lagged behind Victoria’s preferred location. He had points to burn, a lot of them. And for his plan to bear fruit, he needed to make a splash tonight; there were only two more weekends of this.

So, Bora, Bora jumped from twenty-five to forty, and then Maldives rocketed up from twenty to forty. Hot on the heels of the place Victoria wanted to visit, both. But more importantly, and the main key to all this, it reduced his remaining points to spend from a hundred and thirty down to eighty-three.

Let’s hope this pays off in the way I’m hoping, Liam thought, wishing he had a little more confidence in how things would work out.

After he finally put down the marker, Avril shooed him out of the way, then examined his decisions. As a consolation prize to any possible fallout that might come from all this, he accepted a confused head tilt from the beautiful redhead. Eyebrows knitting together, she looked at his changes for a while.

“So, what’s going on here?” she eventually asked, side-eyeing him.

“I’ve decided I’ll spend all my points before it’s over,” he said. “And I figured you’d appreciate it if I kept things tight ‘til the end.”

“Yeah, I do, but why just twelve for Fiji, not ten or fifteen?” Avril said. “It’d have left you with a nice eighty or eighty-five.”

“My ways are mysterious and unknowable,” Liam said, dodging giving any real reason why. It was the best he could come up with.

Fortunately, his pronouncement caused Avril to snort and look away from the whiteboard. In this one instance, it worked out for him to be underestimated. Because if she knew the real reason behind that specific number, he was confident he would have gotten far, far more than a bemused expression.

He spent a little more time with Avril and Anna but eventually needed to get back on the road. Once again, he hated that his dorm—his whole school—was so far from their apartment. Alas, it was a problem he’d need to contend with for at least a little longer. So, after bidding both women goodbye, he collected his ice cream, which he then stuck in his trunk, not wanting his gifts transitioning into puddles along the drive, and made for Perrymont.

About an hour and a half later, not long before he escaped the highway, he pulled over and grabbed some much-needed gas for his car. Puffing crystallized air, he shivered in the cold while filling his tank. Checking his phone, he found only a single message—the one that Avril sent out to the whole group, an image of the whiteboard attached—at the end of each Sunday. Only a single message. Nothing yet from Victoria.

He fidgeted in the cold and his uncertainty until the pump clicked, ending the flow of gasoline into his car. Throughout the rest of the drive home, he never felt his phone buzz. Once back in his dorm, he chatted with Grant for a little while and offered him free rein to try the ice cream he deposited into their freezer.

Still nothing. At around nine-thirty, he finally got a text, though it was from Tess. Like was increasingly common every night, they spent a while texting back and forth. Tess taught an early Monday class, so she didn’t usually stay up too late on Sundays, so he bid her goodnight about an hour later.

And… still nothing. Liam checked his phone like a prepubescent who was waiting for any sign of life from their secret crush, and he only realized what he was doing at nearly eleven.

Ugh, he thought in self-derision.

Leaving his phone on his nightstand, he forced himself to leave some of his stress behind—the rest he conquered with a long, hot shower. Cooling down emotionally and physically afterward, he got ready for bed, then came back to a little bit of back-and-forth texting with Anna and Avril.

Tess, Anna, Avril—he ought to be counting his blessings to spend his evenings regularly chatting with them all. Even still, he couldn’t help but reintroduce some of the anxiousness he’d lost in the shower while lying in bed. How ridiculous was that? Maybe Victoria didn’t check her phone that late on Sundays. Perhaps she also had an early class on Mondays. They didn’t text frequently enough for him to know her schedule.

At eleven-twenty, his phone shook. Anticipating a reply from Anna about the sleep app she’d recently started trying out, he nearly fumbled the phone out of his hands when he saw a V at the start of the name above the message, not an A.

I see you’ve made some unorthodox additions to the board, the text read.

And there Liam was, adrenaline spiking over such a dry response. Maybe it was good that Avril wasn’t keyed into his scheme. If she could see him now, growing frantic the moment he finally got Victoria’s response, she’d have broken into hysterics.

Chill out, he told himself, forcing a blanket of calm onto his nervous excitement. This likely spared him from rapidly firing out some uninspired response. Rereading her message, keeping his cool, he decided what course he’d take.

Avril sent out that update a while ago. It’s kind of late now, isn’t it?

I only made it back home a little while ago. I was on a date.

Intentional or not, ridiculous for him to feel this way or not, her response was a dagger to his heart. He was certain he made some sort of pained expression too. But after his initial reaction, as well as responding to Anna’s newest text, he tried again to let go of his tension.

How did it go? he eventually asked.

When not on a date, Victoria turned out to be a pretty punctual texter, so he didn’t need to wait long for her reply.

It went alright. I don’t think there’ll be a second one, though.

Liam blinked, and now the pendulum swung in the opposite direction. Rather than anxiety, he felt relief. Rather than grief, he almost felt overjoyed. Ridiculous. He was simply ridiculous.

How come? He was almost shocked when her response included a proper answer to his question. Other than during a rare event last Christmas Eve, he was used to seeing Victoria as a very reserved, closed-off person. She was the human version of an airtight vault, so she didn’t swing open the hatch very often. In her following message, he’d really just expected a pretty vague claim that things simply didn’t work out. Instead, she gifted him a rather open explanation.

He ended up just being a little uninteresting, unfortunately, she explained. He’s one of the newer, younger professors at Bellmore, and it’d been evident for months that he’d probably eventually work up the courage to ask me out. But it didn’t seem his courage went any further than that. The night was pleasant enough, and the food at the place we went to was excellent, but we mainly discussed work, which I’m alright with as an opener—I like career-minded men. However, once that topic fizzled, nothing worked to reignite the conversation. I’m still uncertain about what hobbies and interests he has, or if there’s anything outside of work that he’s passionate about. He seemed indecisive and a little timid. He was friendly enough and pleasant, but there wasn’t any chemistry to grab hold of.

It had to be the longest text she’d ever sent to him, and that made it as precious as gold. Not to mention the fact that, selfishly, Liam was kind of thrilled to hear that there hadn’t been any chemistry between Victoria and this other guy. Again, ridiculous. Now, also selfish.

I’m sorry to hear that , he typed out. Would I be off the mark if I assumed you’ve had more than a few dates that turned out like that?

Because you are so intimidating, Liam thought, though he didn’t bother adding that to the message. It was pretty easily inferred.

You wouldn’t be. It’s the most common variety of my “bad” dates, which, because of Avril’s prodding, you would know has been going on for a while.

He did. In the final round of their poker tournament, Avril had, in very Avril fashion, introduced a new rule. One where a player could avoid going broke by answering a question. And shockingly, when asked how long it’d been since she’d had sex, Victoria had answered.

Six years. Six whole years. For a woman of her nearly unparalleled allure, it was clearly by choice. Though, as he found out through the rest of their conversation, there had been chances for it. Just… no one had measured up, apparently.

Liam continued reading Victoria’s extended response.

The other, which is thankfully less frequent, because it is far, far worse, involves the exact opposite occurring. A man who’s only eager to compliment my outfit because he’s hoping I’ll start stripping out of it while we’re waiting for our appetizers. I usually prefer to pay for my dinner. I don’t when I accidentally stumble into a date with one of those types.

So, either too timid and bland or way too forward and gross?

Unfortunately, came Victoria’s reply. She added a second part, which further highlighted just how unusually open she was being with him. Nuance seems to get lost somewhere between balking at looking me in the eyes and drooling at the chance to ogle my breasts. It’s either a frozen zero or a searing hot ten. A simmering six or seven would do them all much better, but finding that seems to be like happening upon a unicorn in Times Square.

Liam chewed on her words, realizing that Victoria was clearly frustrated with how her evening had gone—with how many evenings had gone. If this had been a Saturday night, not a Sunday one, he wondered if these words would have been for Tess, not him. But Tess was asleep, and he was awake. So, he was given the chance to learn more about Victoria over a few minutes than he had since that one conversation they’d shared on Christmas Eve.

“Now, what do I say to all that, though?” Liam asked himself, crowding his mouth to the left. Now, he also wished that Tess was still up so he could get some advice on how to proceed.

Sorry to hear that this guy missed the mark, he arrived at, feeling slightly like he should have a little more to say. Small consolation being that he wasn’t one of the worst sorts, I suppose.

A small enough one, yes, Victoria replied. And then she tacked on a curious addition. If Avril were the one listening to my complaining, she’d claim it was no surprise I struck out, that I’ve always had terrible taste in men.

Because of her brother? That was ages ago, though.

Yes, Victoria wrote. I’m just “paying my dues” for having ever been so blind as to become ensnared by Casey’s less-than-adequate charms. At this point, it could be that she’s right, and I’ve stumbled into an ancient Greek story, forever doomed to wade through the boring and the brazen.

It’s been that bad for a long time? he asked.

Relatively speaking, yes, though not as long as Avril might claim. These bad dates have only somewhat recently strung themselves together. A year ago, specifically, after I finally lifted a self-restriction on my dating life. I got my PhD at twenty-eight and decided I wanted to be taken seriously—no romance until I was established and happy with my career. It was a silly thing to do, probably an overreaction to how close I was to ruining my life by marrying Casey Knight. As such, I’ve only somewhat recently reentered the dating pool, yet I’m already finding myself wanting to head back to my chair.

Given that he was already very much a betting man, Liam gathered that the odds were good that Victoria wasn’t in bed, fighting yawns. Instead, he envisioned her in her kitchen, regularly refilling her glass with a variety of wine that was not of the non-alcoholic variety. He didn’t think she was drunk, but if she was, he was impressed, as her texting hadn’t slipped even a little.

That can’t be right, he eventually wrote. Even Helen of Troy herself would be jealous of you, so you’re bound to sift your way to a diamond eventually.

Liam, Victoria wrote, and he could almost feel a rare appearance of sarcasm emanating from his screen. Aphrodite forced Helen of Troy to fall for a man who is rather often depicted as fair beyond belief but also hedonistic and cowardly. A pause of only a few seconds delayed further lamenting. Her next text arrived, and it almost sounded self-pitying. If anything, I see some parallels between us there, given how I nearly married my own Paris. If that’s the case, I’m in the sad and miserable post-Iliad part of my life.

There hasn’t been a war over you yet, Liam noted. So, can’t be.

A silver lining, that, Victoria responded. There was another brief pause before her following response. Thank you for listening to me as I grouse about something so meaningless as a single boring date.

It clearly wasn’t just one bad date, and Liam silently commiserated for a woman who really was capable of the upheaval of a Greek heroine of famed beauty and allure. Her reality and his expectations couldn’t have been more distant. How exactly could someone of Victoria Moreno’s caliber not be picking the plumpest grapes from the vine? It felt as absurd as… well, as absurd as Tess Williams marrying the unpleasant man she’d ended up with. So, he supposed he had a real-life example of her woes. Quality didn’t always guarantee quality, it seemed.

I’m sorry it was a boring date, he texted. It’s kind of crazy that the other guy would fumble things so badly. He really couldn’t tell that you weren’t very interested in talking about his work the whole time?

Unfortunately, no. I tried to inquire about his interests, if he’d done anything interesting over winter break, or if he had made any plans for the upcoming spring break, but they were brief stints of wind in the doldrums.

That’s a shame, Liam said, though a noticeable part of him knew he wasn’t quite so torn up about it as he was acting. He at least had the decency to feel a little ashamed about his internal response.

Yes, but we’ve gone very far from why I messaged you. I apologize for that.

No apologies needed, he said. The next time you report in, I hope the news will be on the greener side of the river.

Unlikely, she immediately said. Now, back to my original message, I see that you spent a lot of points on Bora, Bora and Maldives.

And also the twelve that I owed to Fiji, he chimed in.

And the twelve points for Fiji, Victoria agreed. Why have you spent so many points on those other two locations, though? Have you decided you want to visit them more than Fiji?

I wouldn’t say that, Liam said, feeling an uptick in his heart rate. Nervousness? He felt a little silly about experiencing that, especially with a hundred miles between him and the severe but beautiful professor. Like he’d been caught doing something wrong, only for his mother to avoid calling him out on it, waiting for him to admit it himself.

But I’ve got so many points, and they’re going to expire in two weeks, one way or another. So, I’ve decided to spend all of them by that time. Bora, Bora and Maldives were just the closest behind Fiji, so spending the extra points there felt right.

You couldn’t have piled them all into Fiji?

It wouldn’t be all that dramatic if I did. This way, things seem kind of close. It’s a race between three different places.

But you will ultimately elect to keep Fiji in the lead?

Realizing that his palms were becoming mildly sweaty, Liam wiped them on his comforter before replying. This was where his plan would either soar to the moon… or hurtle into the ocean, never to be seen again.

That’s kind of up to you, isn’t it? You’re in control of whether we go to Fiji, whether it’s close or not.

It was probably no more than a minute before her next response. Yet, it stretched into an almost unbearable eternity. Lying in bed, waiting for her response, he nearly felt queasy. But this wasn’t all that brazen, right? It was a simmer. And she’d said a simmer would work out far better.

I suppose I am, and I do want to go to Fiji.

Without realizing that he’d been holding his breath for the back half of that minute, Liam exhaled a relieved breath. He also finally responded to Anna’s most recent message, which had come in a few minutes ago. For his response to Victoria, even if his instincts yearned for him to tread carefully, he decided to move that dial just a centimeter or two toward a higher temperature.

So do I. I’ve got eighty-three points left. They’re yours to claim, so long as you really want them.

With how you’ve been rating the pictures you’ve already received, that would mean twenty-five to thirty more.

Forcing his tense fingertips to type out his message, he sent, If they’re like the ones you’ve sent before, then yeah.

He wasn’t going to back down. Not this time. Not with the prize dangling in front of him. Twenty-five to thirty more pictures of Victoria Moreno in killer bikinis on the beaches of years past? All so she could guarantee which location they’d be at when he saw her in killer bikinis on a beach in two months? Nervous about his boldness backfiring or not, he had to see if those wings of his were wax or not. He just had to.

It was a very Greek-oriented night, he also realized.

Your criteria happen to be rather strict, Victoria replied.

It has to be, or I’d be fawning over every picture you sent, giving them all five points. Your worst vastly outdoes most people’s best. Helen of Troy, remember?

Between now and Victoria’s following message, he was confident she was capable enough to identify the tipping point that existed as of today. He had eighty-three points remaining. Fiji had a seven-point lead over the two destinations tied for second. If she wanted to guarantee that they went to Fiji, she only needed to obtain thirty-nine of his remaining points. At that moment, even if he piled the remaining forty-four points into one of the two second-place spots, they couldn’t catch up to Fiji. So, to lock up her preferred location, she only needed to send him half the number of pictures she’d mentioned.

Assuming Tess or Anna didn’t spend their final few points to screw her over, which would probably shell-shock them both, it was a guaranteed route to victory. Victoria was rather fortunate that Avril wasn’t one of the participants in her voting game. It freed her from worrying about an additional angle to her dilemma.

You haven’t shared anything about our deal with Avril, have you? Victoria asked.

No, nothing, he replied, fully understanding why she might worry about such a thing. There were hints of Avril Knight all over his plan, deep in its veins. It was just that, rather than being her hand at work, it was more her spirit. She doesn’t know anything about it. I got a funny look from her when I only put twelve points to Fiji, but I didn’t let anything slip. Nor will I. I promise.

All right, good, Victoria replied. I felt that I needed to double-check.

I understand, was all that he replied with.

Another brief silence followed, so Liam busied himself responding to Anna’s newest text. Afterward, she wished him a good night, and Avril had seemingly fallen asleep even before Victoria’s first text. That left him and the gorgeous, dark-haired professor, miles apart or not, alone. And at least one of them was wide awake and hopeful.

So I might better understand what you prefer from these pictures, the more displayed skin, the better, correct?

The cavalier nature of her question punched Liam in the gut, eliminating what little chance of dozing off there might have been before it. His face burned as he read her message, yet he didn’t turn back the dial. He kept the stove’s heat where it was—where she’d now set it.

It’s pretty unlikely ever to lower the score, he responded, heart zooming as he quickly replied.

Are you primarily interested in pictures of me in swimwear? Would an evening dress potentially do?

I won’t put any stipulations on outfits, no, Liam said, though he recalled that this had started through the veneer of comparing old bikinis to potential new ones—ones he would get to see if they visited Fiji. I’m sure I’ll be stunned, regardless.

Stunned into giving me three points, Victoria retorted dryly.

I know there’ll be a few in there that I can’t resist giving five to, he texted back. You just haven’t sent them over yet.

What a loaded word: “yet.” In the context of their current discussion, especially so. So full of his hopes, as quickly popped as a balloon floating into a maze formed of needles. In her next response, Victoria allowed it to stay aloft in the air.

We shall see. Perhaps you’ve just raised your bar too high, on account of living beside such a beautiful woman, then pretending to date another beautiful woman. And also, lest I forget, apparently earning the attraction of another gorgeous woman.

If only you knew, Liam thought, wondering if just the revelation that he’d kissed all three of those women in the past twenty-four hours might cause Victoria’s jaw to drop. If anything could truly flabbergast her, upset her immaculate poise, maybe that could do it.

If you were someone else, I might believe that, he sent back, but I don’t believe for a second that you’re worried about anything like that.

Am I not allowed my illogical worries?

Not that one.

You’re harsher than I’d judged initially, Victoria responded. Bolder, too.

Like a light appearing at the end of the tunnel, Liam saw the reply he needed to send. If there was any chance in the universe that he might get to do more than just admire Victoria in all her immaculate, incredible beauty in Fiji, it was predicated on him not backing down here. Of the two types of men that Victoria had complained about, he’d never be the “hey, let’s hurry up and fuck” type. He had much more in common with the faceless, nameless man that had bored her tonight.

He'd had much more in common with the faceless, nameless man that had bored her tonight. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew Victoria Moreno wasn’t currently bored. Not by him, not by their conversation. And so, brimming with confidence that what he typed out was the right thing to say, he sent his reply.

It’s all in my goal of trying to be a little more nuanced, that’s all.

Victoria’s dress, the one she wore tonight, the one she sent his way less than a minute later, hit all the marks they’d just discussed. It was an evening dress, and it was plentiful in the skin that it displayed.

He’d also been right. She was in her kitchen, right where she’d been when they’d first made this deal. Even with midnight on the horizon, her lights kept the room well-lit, so Liam didn’t need to worry about missing out on a single detail of what had to be one of the most beautiful women on the planet.

Taken from a slightly high angle, the selfie he received showed that Victoria had elected to wear a deep blue dress tonight, with only two hard-working spaghetti straps holding it up. It was a corset dress, clenching tightly around her hourglass of a figure. Though he couldn’t see past her navel in this specific picture, taken while Victoria was still sitting down, he imagined it hugged her wide hips and gorgeous ass tightly.

But even without that half of her visible, there was so much to work with. Her eyes, like always, belonged to the most beautiful of blizzards. Pure, indomitable, enough to captivate without accessories or even a single spoken word. There was no off switch to the way her eyes pierced him. The hints of makeup on her olive skin, a pair of dangling diamond earrings, the lustrous curve and bounce of her dark hair, which she’d seemingly let down since being let down by her date.

Really, though, how the hell had this guy sat in the first camp—the boring group—when Victoria was dressed like this?

There was enough cleavage on display to set Liam’s heart racing, his blood boiling. The dress dropped low enough for the most immaculate set of breasts that Liam had ever seen to fully hint—more than that, even—at just how much there’d be to admire if those straps slid off those smooth, soft shoulders. A pair of breasts capable of stiffening the cock of someone in his bed over a hundred miles away in mere moments. A pair of breasts worth being smothered to death by. If that were how you died, you’d nod, smile, and welcome the sweet bliss that preceded the eternal end.

I’d appreciate a nuanced rating, then, Victoria sent. She waited, in fact, only sending that message twenty or seconds after the arrival of the image. As if she knew he’d be stunned long enough for him to fail to notice that she hadn’t seen an accompanying message.

Twenty seconds before sending her request, then another twenty more before Liam felt coolheaded enough not to howl like a wolf at the moon. Settling himself… somewhat, he tapped out his response.

Is this your favorite dress?

It’s among the evening dresses I think highly of, but I wouldn’t call it my favorite.

Okay, he said, I still give it a four.

Only a four? You’re not helping set my worries about your too-high standards at ease.

Well, he replied, heart in total frenzy within his chest, you’ve only given me a look at half of you. If I can see how the rest of the dress looks against your body, then maybe I could reevaluate my decision.

A few minutes passed without a reply, yet Liam didn’t feel half as frantic now as he had during the last briefer delay. With some certainty, he felt like he knew what was happening in Victoria’s kitchen. She was putting her glass in the dishwasher, the wine bottle back into its cupboard, and then exiting the room entirely. He didn’t know for sure, but he felt like a woman of Victoria’s style had to have a standing mirror.

He was proven right. He quite liked being right, aware of and expecting good things, not fretting over what might go wrong. He could tell why Avril liked to instigate things. If you started something, you usually had a better grasp on how things might go than everyone else.

The following picture of Victora Moreno showed her in a side profile, her image reflected in the tall standing mirror in her bedroom. It was his first peek into that room, and it’d be a while longer before he saw it in the flesh, but he wasn’t focused on any of that. Right now, he was focused on the gorgeous curves that she possessed, the way in which her dress tightened around her hips, accentuating that there really was nowhere safe to look at on her body. With her height, there was so much of her legs to dream about. Hidden beneath deep blue fabric, but ready for display once April arrived. Why did March have to come after February? Why couldn’t it be April?

Instead of lamenting the unfairness that was his wait for spring break, Liam chose to focus on the here and now. Here, now, he was in awe of Victoria’s beauty, of the conversation they were having. Where it had started, where it had led. And it still had some places to go.

Wow, you look ready to star in a spy thriller, Liam replied. Alright, I guess I have to give it one more point.

Just one? Victoria responded immediately.

Yeah, that makes it a total of five.

It’s a second picture, though.

Of the same dress, Liam fired back.

That seems strict.

Does it, Professor Moreno? Liam asked, not really stopping to think if this was the right tact. If a student were to let you see half of their paper, get it graded, then offer up the second half but also want it to enable them to get over a hundred percent, would you allow that?

If I had a student who looked like this in this dress, I might allow it, Victoria responded.

Liam chuckled at the surprisingly pithy retort. Uncharacteristic though it might be, possibly enabled by a little too much alcohol though it might be, he hoped for more like it.

I can go up to two points for this second image, but no higher. Just wouldn’t feel right. You look incredible. Six points for one dress. That’s fair, isn’t it?

It’s acceptable, Victoria texted. However, I’m still considering these as two separate pictures, so you’ve still yet to give one of my pictures a rating of five.

That’s fair. But it’s just a matter of time, I’m sure.

We’ll see, Victoria said.

There wasn’t much more excitement for the remainder of the night, though it didn’t end for another half an hour. Their messages grew slightly less charged, slightly more like the conversations she was used to having on her dates. It was of her volition, so Liam respected that and turned the stove’s heat down to almost nothing. Any disappointment he might have felt, he curtailed that too. The last thing he intended to do after such a fantastic day was end his day by pouting.

After having boldly flirted with someone under half her age, he didn’t know where Victoria now sat. While that new professor had been described as young, he doubted that a woman like Victoria commonly sent pictures to people the age of her students. Or ever, really. For her to change things up as she had, swapping from photos of the past to one of the present, well, that had to mean something substantial.

Whether she was still in her dress or had slipped out of it, Liam had no way of knowing that either. But Victoria eventually called an end to their late-night texting. She wished him goodnight, and he responded with the same—even though he knew it’d be well over an hour before the butterflies in his stomach calmed down enough for him to fall asleep. When he did, he was caught between awe of how the night had gone and worry about how Victoria might feel about things once she woke up the next morning, possibly nursing a slight headache.

If she was, it was impossible to tell in the picture he woke up to. Standing on a beautiful beach, wearing a tropical bikini whose bottoms were hidden by a multi-colored skirt that fell a long way down only one long, alluring leg, Victoria ensured she dominated his morning thoughts.