And by “not that I’d know” I mean that I feel bad for Kristen （that’s the woman’s name） but not so bad that I’m not a little envious that she’s experienced it. Does that make sense? Like part of what she was saying to him felt embarrassingly over the top, but part of it felt really . . . real. And I don’t know if there is any guy from my past, even one who ended things and I still had feelings for, who I would go to and say, “I need this one more time.” Overhearing that conversation made me realize I’ve never really had good sex.
I can’t believe I’m about to hit Send on this but From: [email protected]
Date: February 15, 2024
Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!
We are totally on the same page. In fact, earlier tonight, my ex approached me and part of what made it uncomfortable was that you and I had finally agreed to go on a date. I felt disloyal even being there. It just sucks that we have to wait until June.
I get what you mean about feeling envious about that. And being raised by my mother and three older sisters, I can’t tell you the number of times my sisters reminded me—whether or not I wanted to discuss it—that it takes women a long time to learn what works for them re: sex. So maybe you just haven’t found a guy who is willing to be patient and figure it out with you.
I want to give you my name and number, but this is a big reversal in our system. Let’s talk about that more when we haven’t been drinking?
C.
Chapter Nineteen
FEBRUARY 16, 2024
Terra
One would think I’d be nervous about the exam I’m about to take, but really, I’m exhausted from not sleeping （alternately studying and rereading C’s email suggesting HE! IS! A! PATIENT! LOVER!） and also dreading seeing Callum this morning.
The more I thought about it yesterday, the more I realized how fucking insane I looked for hiding in a closet. He came out looking like an A+ sex stud, and I came out looking like Gollum curled around her bottle of wine.
There’s no way that this isn’t going to be awkward.
Except . . . it isn’t. I walk into the classroom, compulsively early as always, sit in my seat, and Callum immediately comes over, crouching in front of me. We are the only two people in here, and it feels wildly intimate how close we are.
“Hey. You good?” he asks, and those brown-green eyes search mine, and he gives a tiny, unsure smile. “After the, uh, incident Wednesday night?”
My pulse trips all over itself before sprinting away. He really is so intensely hot; the longer we maintain eye contact, the more worried I become about releasing a spontaneous moan. “Am—am I good? Yes. I’m fine. Are you good?”
He breaks out in a real smile, and it’s devastating. It’s an underwear-shredding smile. The seductive smile of a man who gives good dick. “I’m fine,” he says quietly, eyes flickering past my shoulder as the room begins to fill. “Embarrassed. But I just wanted to check on you.”
“I don’t think you need to be embarrassed,” I whisper, laughing.
“Ehh,” he says, wincing cutely, “it was just private.”
“And I’m sorry that I trespassed on a private moment,” I tell him. “I punished myself by finishing the entire bottle of wine and treating myself to a brutal headache yesterday morning.”
He laughs, low and sexy, like a man who very patiently delivers orgasms every time, and God, I think my brain is melting. C is right. I need a man who is patient, because whatever I’ve been missing must be amazing.
“You ready for today?” Callum asks.
“For today?”
A tiny smile. “The exam?”
“Oh. That. Yes. Very ready for it. Ready to take it, I mean.” I pause, swallowing. Why does this eye contact feel like foreplay? “I’m referring to the exam.”
There’s a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he stands. “Good.”
And when I get up at the end of class and leave, Callum gives me a small smile and a wave. I really hope I haven’t just completely bombed it, because only two minutes after I finished it, I don’t remember a single question on the test.
Chapter Twenty
FEBRUARY 16, 2024
Callum
Iset the stack of exams on Dr. Ashkar’s desk. “Hey, Mike. I’m going to have to recuse myself from grading these.”
He looks up at me, lowering his glasses. “Oh yeah? What’s up?”
Mike Ashkar is the newest faculty member in our department and the one professor I am sure to be friends with long after I finish my doctorate. I have resigned myself to tell him this much, and no more: “I’ve got a thing for one of the students.”