Bring Down the Stars (Beautiful Hearts Duet #1)(75)

“Stop writing it,” Professor O said, “and give it to her.”

I glanced up sharply. “Her?”

“Or him. The person you’re in love with.” He pursed his lips and cocked his head. “You think a man can look as miserable as you right now for any other reason besides love?”

“I can’t give it to her.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t belong to me.”

“Ah.” Professor O leaned back, his hands resting on his chest now, fingers interlaced. “Unrequited love. The most painful kind.”

Once upon a time, I’d tell him it wasn’t any such thing. But today, now, on the brink of shipping off to a future I couldn’t see, I was honest. With my idol poet. With myself. Out loud.

“Yeah, I love her,” I said. “I don’t know how it happened, or why, but I do. Something in me connects to something in her. I’ve felt it since the day we met.”

Professor Ondiwuje smiled like a satisfied cat. “That’s beautiful.”

“Hardly,” I said dryly. “She loves my best friend. Because of me.”

The professor raised his eyebrows. “How so?”

The old me would’ve evaded the question, but I’d already admitted out loud I loved Autumn. Everything after that was easy, so I told him everything.

Professor O leaned back in his chair when I was finished. “I see. You gave your gifts to your best friend. Why?”

“Because I love him,” I said. “And I want him to be happy.”

“What of your happiness? Does it have any role in this drama? Or are you still sitting in the audience, ready to sneak out the back when it’s over?”

“It’s easier for him to be happy than me,” I said. “I didn’t want to subject Autumn to my shit. My anger. My stupid baggage that makes it so that I…”

“Live every life but the one you want.”

I scrubbed my face with my hands. “I don’t know.”

“I do. A writer who chooses an economics major. A runner who ignores his gift. A poet’s heart now encased in a warrior’s armor.”

Professor O hitched forward to lean over his desk, arms folded on the mahogany. “Wes, I’m going to ask you a personal question, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You ready?”

I snorted a small laugh. “Ready.”

“What happened that made you feel you don’t deserve anything good for yourself?”

A car screeching away, my mother’s curses turning to wailing cries. And me, running down the street. My legs pumping hard and fast, even though I knew I’d never catch him. Even though he was long gone.

“Good feels out of reach,” I murmured. “I’ve had good before and I lost it.”

“So now you only reach for that which doesn’t hurt to lose.”

This introspection was growing painful, like a knife prying into my guts and heart and mind.

The heart hides itself behind the mind.

“You have one life, Wes,” Professor O said into my silence. “What you put in it is entirely up to you. I suggest you put in what you want. Especially now.”

“It’s too late,” I said.

“Is it? You’re sitting right in front of me, flesh and bone, pumping blood and breathing life. That doesn’t look like too late to me.”

We stood together, and he offered his hand.

“Be safe. My prayers will be with you.”

“Thanks.”

“Finish the poem. For your own sake. Put your heart on the page and your signature at the bottom.”

He gripped my hand tighter, his eyes holding mine intently.

“Own this love, Wes. It’s not just hers. It’s yours too.”





Autumn



Icy rain had fallen the night before and the Uber driver was cautious on the roads. Too cautious for my liking. I held Connor’s hand tight and it was all I could do to keep from pressing it between my legs as I kissed his mouth. Ravenous for all of the words he’d written to me over the last ten weeks, wanting to lick, taste, and consume them into the marrow of my bones.

“Where’s Ruby?” Connor said hoarsely, once we were inside my apartment.

“Out,” I said, leaning back on the slammed-shut door and pulling him against me. “Indefinitely.”

“God, baby, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Need you so bad,” I said, tugging at his shirt, then tearing at it.

Connor’s mouth crushed mine. I surrendered to his urgency, letting him tear off my dress. Shocking myself by pushing him to his knees and pulling his head between my legs, needing his mouth there. Letting out a Ruby-esque moan as he brought me to a quick, skillful orgasm.

Connor rose shakily to his feet. He picked me up and carried me down the hall. “Yours?” he said at Ruby’s bedroom.

“Next one.”

He lay me down on my bed and we went at each other, crazed. No words but yes, and fuck and so good. My hands seized and grabbed at him, now all hard, defined muscle and brutal, blind need.

Finally, his body locked up tight and then imploded, and he buried his face in my neck. He panted, heaving gasps that slowly morphed into laughter as he rolled away, forearm across his face.