Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(21)

Who is she, Ben? Imaginary Honey had asked him, her voice all soft and twangy, making him glad he’d draped his coat over his lap. Why is she sitting so close to you? I know all you want to do is drag me away from Johnny Jerk Off in the back row and f*ck me in the stairwell.

But Honey wasn’t sitting on his lap, nor was she talking to him. He’d once again proven himself a purveyor of douchebagery in the library, talking to her like a wayward student who didn’t know her own mind, when he knew from her work that the opposite was true. Had she moved on already? Found someone who’d appreciate her equal parts of maturity and youthfulness? God, he’d enjoyed talking to her yesterday and hated that someone else was enjoying that privilege now. She was wearing that sexy forties pinup outfit for another guy, and since he’d decided to show up to the reading anyway, despite his better judgment, he was sitting with Viv, who apparently had no qualms about stroking his arm like a cat in front of their colleagues.

Ben stood from his seat, a little surprised when Viv linked their arms together and tugged him toward a group of English department faculty members. She’d expressed her interest in going out with him on one or two occasions and he’d considered asking her out, but he’d never expected her to make a move like this. Honestly, he should have been more than happy to go with it, perfectly content to let Honey see how different she was from his usual conquests. He shouldn’t even be thinking about Honey. Unfortunately, she’d turned in another brilliant essay. So when he combined the heartfelt words she’d given him and her soft voice reaching him across the shelf in the library, then threw in the memory of silky thighs leading to touchable, lily-white panties, he more than thought about her. In fact, he was wondering if he’d maybe gone swerving past the boundaries of attraction and veered straight into the fixation lane.

Viv and his colleagues immediately launched into a discussion about the poetry reading, but Ben found himself glancing toward Honey. She wasn’t looking at him this time. Jesus, he hated that. Hated not being able to command her attention the way he did in class, when she had no choice but to look at him. He’d gotten spoiled by those full hours of having her look nowhere else. Instead, those big golden eyes were trained on Johnny Jerk Off, as if his backward Texas Longhorns hat held the meaning of life. It was possible he’d completely cured her of the attraction she felt for him. Again, that should be good news. Great news. So why did it feel like acid was bubbling in his gut every time she laughed at another man’s joke? Why did he feel like both of them were doing something wrong by spending time with other people and not each other? Because it felt wrong. It just did.

Peter wedged himself in between Ben and Viv, earning himself an annoyed female stare. Ben barely stifled the urge to slap the usually irritating Peter on his back in welcome. The urge died when he saw the concern on Peter’s face. He should have known a conversation about last night’s Yankees game wasn’t in the cards. Not after Peter had seen the beginnings of an obviously personal argument between Ben and Honey.

“Hey, Ben.” Peter tossed a look over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Did you see who’s here?”

Ben tossed back the rest of his lemonade, wishing it were a cold beer. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“The blonde,” Peter murmured. “In the pink dress.” When Ben didn’t respond, mainly because he was focusing on not getting in Peter’s face and asking why he was paying such close attention to what Honey was wearing, his colleague continued with a sigh. “Look, she’s obviously got some kind of crush on you.”

Ben’s stomach muscles flexed involuntarily to counteract the sudden hot ache. Honestly, all that over the idea of her having a crush on him? His mental status was beginning to appear questionable. “Say what you want to say, Peter.”

“Look, I think you need to give some more thought to what I said before.” Peter shook his head. “She stays after class to get you alone. She shows up here. All it would take is that sting of rejection to file a complaint and your job would be in jeopardy. Head it off at the pass. Be up front and write a formal letter to Dean Mahoney, letting him know a student has shown interest in you. That way, if blondie ever claims you harassed her, you’ve already been honest. It will count in your favor.”

Ben had to admit there was some truth to what Peter was saying. If he wanted to make sure his job stayed secure, this would be a way to ensure that. The problem being, anything he put in that letter would mostly be horseshit. No one had held a gun to his head when he’d lifted up Honey’s skirt to get a look at her panties. Her thighs. Her *. No one had done that but him. She might have deceived him at the outset, but the blame for what happened after didn’t lay squarely on her shoulders.

“Thanks. I’ll think about it,” Ben mumbled, mostly to end the conversation with Peter. He rejoined the conversation with the rest of his colleagues for a few minutes, resisting his impulse to glance over at Honey. Not with Peter standing there, seemingly watching his every move. But when Peter excused himself to use the restroom, Ben found himself unable to hold off any longer. He angled his body away from Viv and turned, just in time to see her leave the hall with Johnny Jerk Off.

He stood very still for a moment, trying and failing to ignore the rush of denial. Where were they going? Back to some smelly dorm room to hang a sock on the doorknob while they . . . No. Not her. Please not her. Why did that guy actually make an effort to show up here? Didn’t guys like that blow shit off for nickelwing night at the bar down the street? It was possible the guy was genuinely nice, despite being a garbage speller. Maybe I’m the jerk-off. Yes, clearly that was the case, because he was standing there staring at any empty doorway while the girl who’d written a paper from Lolita’s POV as the literary heroine traversed the politics in an old folk’s home was leaving with another guy. He hadn’t even said hi to her. His arm was once again being tucked into Viv’s side, and he wanted to yank it away.