Page 63 of Teach Me
I shrugged. A lot was still up in the air. “I’ve applied to the grad program at Crestview U to start spring semester. I should hear back soon. I’ll be working in the cafe until then.”
“You got a place to stay?”
I glanced around at my friends. I’d been waiting for this moment, and both fear and excitement filled me as I spoke. “I’ve got a month-to-month lease on a studio until December. Then I’ll be moving in with someone I’ve been seeing for a while.” I hesitated, suddenly nervous about what their reaction would be, even though I’d discussed sharing this part of my life with Grady, Mark, and Chet, who I’d told over the summer, extensively. They’d all been encouraging. The irony wasn’t lost on me since I’d been the one reluctant to keep secrets. Hell, Grady had been the one to suggest it in the first place. Still, my stomach somersaulted when Jesse shrieked.
“What? Who? Oh my god?—”
“Gary,” Eric piped confidently and smirked as my mouth dropped open. How the fuck was he always right?
“The judge?” Nate’s brows drew together, and my shock morphed into laughter.
“He’s not a judge. He’s?—”
“Better not be my dad. He’s supposed to be on vacation right now.” Ansel frowned.
“It’s not your dad, Ansel.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the chaos and laughter. “And his name isn’t Gary, and he isn’t a judge, but he is a professor here, which is why—” Jesse shrieked again, and Sam clapped a hand over his mouth. “—we had to keep things quiet.”
“I’ll be damned.” Nate was still staring at me in disbelief.
Jesse pried Sam’s fingers from his mouth. “It’s GHG, though? Because holy shit, that’s fucking wild. Good for you.”
“It’s a long story,” I told them.
Not a damn one of them moved an inch, except Nate, who cocked his head with a grin. “We’ve got time.”
EPILOGUE
GRADY
Clusters of low-hanging Edison bulbs bathed the sprawling Dupont Circle bookstore in an inviting glow. The smell of aged paper and fresh ink hung in the air, and the claustrophobic aisles toward the back reminded me of the smaller shops I’d haunted as a teen growing up in the suburbs. I’d been beside myself when Cooper had informed me that Verse & Vision Book Emporium would be the first stop on my book signing tour. In fact, I’d been beside myself that there was a signing tour in the first place. Apparently, preorder numbers skyrocketed after two interviews I’d done in July—one on a late-night talk show, the other on a morning talk show roundtable, where the topics had ranged from politics to career choices and gossip—and the publishing house wanted to capitalize on the momentum.
“I hadnoidea you had such strong opinions about celebrity fashion,” Cam had said on a FaceTime call after the morning talk show interview. And then he’d tilted the camera lower, revealing a pair of skintight briefs I’d never seen before, the silky fabric outlining the firm hills of his quads and, also, the prominent bulge between them. “Opinions on these?”
My mouth had gone dry as I stared, struggling before I finally strung together a reply. “Those are keepers. Now, take them off.” We’d laughed before the inevitable tension between us crescendoed and led to a heated exchange, both of us breathless, staring into each other’s half-lidded gazes as we stroked ourselves to orgasm amid promises of what we’d do to each other when we next met. A phone screen was a poor substitute for reality, though, and always left me longing for him. My desire for Cameron was a hunger that hadn’t diminished. Not even a little bit. I’d missed him immensely and often over the summer. Not just the sensation of his body next to mine or kissing him, but the quirks of his personality, our tangent-prone conversations, and seeing the brilliant arc of his smile in person.
One more week.
I had another stop at a bookstore in Richmond and then a few days to spend and recoup in Silver Ridge before hopping a flight to Chicago. My whirlwind signing tour would end just before the Thanksgiving holiday, and while I’d enjoyed and was grateful for every second of my travels so far, I was more than ready to return to my life in Silver Ridge, especially since Cameron would be moving in with me. Thinking about it gave me both the comfort of the familiar and the exhilaration of embarking upon a new life with him. But right now, I was dying for a tiny taste of what was to come. It had been way too long since I’d kissed him.
One more week.
I adjusted the stack of books on the wooden table where I sat. Above me was an elegantly hand-lettered chalkboard sign that read, “Meet the Author: Dr. Grady Lusk.” A title I hadn’t heard in ages and was still getting used to.
I’d slept restlessly, nervous no one would show up. As nervous as I’d been that I’d fail my oral dissertation defense. I’d told Cameron as much the night before, and he’d laughed beforechiding me gently. “People will show up. Look at how well the book is doing, doofus.” Two weeks into its release and it had just broken the top fifty on theNew York Timesbestseller list and was rising. “But if they don’t, who cares,” he’d continued. “In my eyes, you’re already the best.”
Sasha, the store manager, hustled over with a bottled water that she set next to me, then checked her watch. “Ready for the chaos, Dr. Lusk? Need any more Sharpies?”
I ticked my chin toward the Sharpie in front of me. “Thank you. I think I’m all set with just the one.”
She looked down at the single marker, back at me, and then cackled. “You’ve never been to one of our signings before. Let me go get you some more.”
It turned out I needed an additional four.
The book signing began at five. By five thirty, animated chatter filled the air around me, and there was a line that wound through the store. Sasha hadn’t been joking. She and another staff member kept the line moving efficiently while I fought hand cramps I wasn’t prepared for as I scrawled my signature, barely registering the faces I greeted.
By six fifteen, the pace transitioned to a manageable ebb and flow, some eager folks sticking around to engage in conversation while others merely wanted their book signed before disappearing. I pressed my thumb against the heel of my palm and massaged the webbing between, paused for a sip of water, and then accepted the next book that came my way.
“Could you sign it to Beatrice?” the dark-haired woman chirped with a bright smile.