Page 15

Chapter fifteen

Finn

It’s been three days.

Three days since I got under Foxx’s skin, since I left him gripping that desk like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Three days of staring at a picture instead of the real thing, and still, nothing.

I’ve been checking the app, but nada. No messages.

No reactions. No acknowledgment. I won’t pretend I wasn’t expecting something.

Maybe a “this isn’t right” text. Maybe he would finally break and block me.

Maybe there’d be some sign that I have been on his mind the way he’s been on mine.

But instead, I get a solid wall, locked down tight, like he’s doubled down on his own resistance.

I can’t deny it was a surprise to see him in class, to realize that the same man I had pinned beneath me, the same man who made me shudder with nothing but his mouth and his hands, was Professor Nicholas Jones.

For a split second, I thought maybe he lied about his name.

Maybe he was just another guy who wanted to fuck me and then disappear under an alias.

But after class, I did some deep diving into his social media, just to be sure.

And there he was. His profile isn’t flashy.

He’s not the kind of guy who over shares, that much is obvious.

No thirst traps, no captions meant for likes.

Just some old photos, a few tagged pictures from what look like department dinners.

But one post makes me pause. It’s an old photo, at least five years ago.

A younger Foxx standing beside another man.

The guy is attractive, tall, built, with sharp features and a smile that’s a little too perfect.

He has his arm around Foxx’s waist, holding him close, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and Foxx looks different.

It’s not just that he’s younger. There’s something about the way he’s standing, the way his shoulders are relaxed, the way he smiles, because he is smiling, soft and easy, and it’s so unrestrained.

I scroll through the comments, but there aren’t many.

No more posts of them other than that one. Nothing to explain who the guy is, what happened. But I don’t need much to put the pieces together. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t just someone Foxx slept with; he meant something.

I close out of the app, dropping my phone onto my chest, staring at the ceiling.

I tell myself it doesn’t matter. That it’s just a picture.

But for some reason, it sticks with me.

And I really don’t like that I don’t know this version of him.

***

I stand in line at Mug Life with Daphne, who’s gently rocking Rosie in her arms. The place smells like freshly ground beans and vanilla syrup, my favorite combination.

We inch forward as the line moves. Stuffing my wallet back into my pocket, I try not to obsess about the ache in my lower back from a bad night’s sleep. Daphne catches my eye and arches an eyebrow toward her daughter.

“Think we’ll actually get our coffee before Rosie starts her meltdown?” she jokes under her breath.

“We can try bribing her with your boob if it all starts to go wrong. Either that, or I’ll start singing my best rendition of ‘Defying Gravity.’ That always gets her to stop crying.”

“Please don’t break into show tunes in the middle of Mug Life,” Daphne says through a laugh. “I’m too tired to pretend I don’t know you right now.”

I smirk. “You’re just jealous of my vocal range.”

“If you say so.”

We scoot up as the line moves again, nearly to the counter now. Rosie begins to fuss a little more and Daphne jigs a little harder. I find myself also swaying and shushing, which is completely bizarre. I’ve been baby brain washed already.

Daphne huffs a quiet laugh, catching my movement. “Look at you,” she teases. “Natural instincts kicking in?”

“I think it’s more self-preservation,” I mutter, adjusting my stance, but still unconsciously rocking in time with her. “If she starts wailing, everyone in here is going to glare at us, and I’ll be forced to perform a one-man musical to distract them.”

“I thought you said that would be for Rosie’s benefit.”

“Potato tomato.”

Daphne gives my arm a playful smack just as we get to the front of the line, where we see her friend, Indie, looking a little frazzled. “Hey, Daph, Finn. Hey, Rosie girl,” she coos.

Daphne angles Rosie so she can see her better, then says, “We’re in need of caffeine, and Rosie is seconds away from squealing. Can I have my usual?”

“Double chocolate frappe, no coffee, extra whip, coming up.” Indie’s eyes flick to me as she scribbles Daphne’s order on a cup. “And your usual too?”

“Yep, vanilla latte,” I say. “Extra shot if you feel like being nice.”

Indie smirks, already reaching for another cup. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I love that you pretend you don’t have claws.”

She gives me a knowing look. “Prickles, or so Seb says. I disagree. Which is why you should appreciate this while it lasts.”

Daphne chuckles and shifts Rosie in her arms. Indie straightens, already punching in our orders, and I pay quickly. “You coming to scrapbook club next week?” she asks Daph.

“I think so. Might have to bring little lady too.”

“Quinn would love that. You know she adores her.” She turns to me. “You should come too, Finn.”

Daphne laughs, loudly, and then when I turn to her, she snaps her mouth closed. “Ha, oh sorry, I just can’t imagine you enjoying that. You hated stuff like that growing up.”

I cross my arms over my chest, looking down at my sister. “People can change.” Then I tell Indie, “But, I'm happy to babysit so Daph can go.”

She smiles again, another rarity, and nods to me. “I’ll get these going. Shouldn’t be long.”

“Lifesaver.” Daphne offers her a grateful smile before stepping aside so we can wait. “Would you really want to come to scrapbook club?”

“I have time on my hands, Daph. Time I need to fill, so maybe? I don't know.” I don’t mention that I’d rather have my hands full of a certain math professor of mine instead.

Rosie squirms again, and I take her from my sister as a distraction. “Think she’s gonna make it until the drinks are ready?”

Daphne snorts. “Absolutely not. Start warming those vocal chords, Uncle Finny.”

And just as she says it, the bell over the door jingles, and someone steps up behind us in the small shop.

“Oh! Good morning, Professor Jones,” Daphne says.

The name freezes my entire body, like someone’s yanked the emergency brake in my brain.

No. No, no, no, not here. Not now.

I force myself to turn, and sure enough, Foxx stands right behind us, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, looking just as put together and ridiculously attractive as ever.

He’s trimmed his beard a little and maybe his hair?

God, he looks hot. His sharp gaze flicks first to Daphne, then to me, then to Rosie.

Then ping-pongs around all three of us. His expression shifts, his usually composed demeanor cracking just enough for me to see the surprise, the quick math he’s doing in his head.

His mouth parts slightly before he presses his lips together like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

“I— Good morning,” Foxx says, voice slightly off. He glances between the three of us again.

Daphne, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere, tickles Rosie’s chin in my arms. “Just fueling up before class. This one was up all night,” she says, yawning dramatically, even though she doesn’t have caffeine because of feeding Rosie, but I don’t even comment.

I’m too lost, trying to read Foxx’s mind.

He doesn’t respond to her right away. His gaze is still locked on Rosie, and I think I know exactly what he’s thinking, and my stomach plummets.

I open my mouth, ready to cut him off before he makes the assumption I can already see forming in real time, but the words won’t form. Foxx looks at me, a crease wrinkling his eyebrows. “I… I didn’t realize you…” He gestures weakly at Rosie and Daphne, his face dropping a few shades in color.

My throat dries. Shit .

“It’s not—” I start, but he’s already nodding stiffly.

“No,” he says, voice clipped. “Right. That…makes sense.” His gaze flicks back to Rosie for the briefest second, then away, like it stings.

There’s something else there, too. Something almost wounded.

“Foxx, wait—” I try again, stepping forward, but he’s already moving.

“I should go.” His hand scrapes over the back of his neck, his whole body wound tight as he backs away. “Sorry, I—didn’t, I’m gonna, yeah.” Pointing over his shoulder awkwardly, he turns and bolts out the door, gone before I can so much as blink.

I stand there, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“What the actual hell was that? And who is Foxx?” Daphne asks, turning to me with a blank look. Yeah, what the hell was that? “Did I just hallucinate, or did my math professor flee the scene like we were about to hand him a paternity test?”

I groan, rubbing a hand down my face. “It’s…complicated.”

She gives me a skeptical look. “Complicated how?”

Rosie lets out a small whimper, like she, too, wants to know why I just let that conversation implode. I’m not even sure myself.

I sigh, running my hand through my hair. “I’ll explain later. You have to get to class.”

Daphne lowers her voice nearer to me. “Finn, I know that look. Tell me you haven’t slept with my professor?”

I wince and can hardly meet her eyes when she groans.

“Finn Silas James!” she hisses.

“Don’t full name me. I’m an adult.”

“You’d better fix whatever just transpired between you two. He’s going to be teaching me advanced calc next year and I don’t want any awkwardness.”

But my thoughts are already racing, heat prickling under my skin. I don’t have time to worry about my sister’s issues when Foxx thinks Rosie is mine, and I can’t do anything about it, because I’m about to become Uncle Finn for the next five hours, at least.