The TA.

Focus

My phone buzzes across the table, loud and insistent. Julie continues scribbling something down. I tell myself not to answer it, to stay focused on the questions I'm answering for my Art History class, but it hasn't even been a minute when I reach over the books for my phone.
Nathan: Come hang out with me in the library.
Me: Is that a question or a demand?
And I wait for his reply with the blunt, square end of one thumbnail between my teeth.
Nathan: A question.
Me: I'll be over in ten minutes. 
Me: Where are you sitting?
Nathan: I'm on the first floor, far to the right at a table by the windows.
Julie raises her head as I pack up my books and shove them into my bag.
"Are you going back to the room?"
"To the library," I tell her.
She frowns for a moment.
"That dude that was here the other week," she says. "One of the sophomores upstairs told me that he's a TA." 
"Yeah. So?"
And I wish I didn't sound bitchy.
Julie shrugs.
"Just be careful, that's all I'm saying." 
I nod, "Okay." 
And I do my best not to dwell on her warning as I skip out of the room and stroll across campus to the library. It's a two floor, red brick and white stone building with an outward curving portico over the main doors. I scan the right hand side windows, but don't spot his silhouette. As I'm circling the first floor, my phone buzzes in my hand.
Nathan: It just occurred to me that over here the first floor is the ground floor. 
Nathan: I'm upstairs.
I plod up the stairs and find him where he said he'd be. 
He's hunched over the table, staring into his laptop, his ankles hooked around the front legs of his chair.
I thump down into the chair opposite him and a couple of moments pass before he leans around his laptop, lowers his screen to acknowledge me.
"Hey," he smiles.
"Hey."
"What were you up to?" 
"I was studying with my roommate."
"She didn't mind you leaving?"
"No, not really." 
He frowns but doesn't ask me to clarify that.
"I wondered if you had started writing the short story for class," he says.
I fish out my palm-leaf-printed college notebook and throw it across to him. He opens it to the dog-eared page. His eyes slide back and forth across it. 
Finally, he says, "I like this line." 
He puts a fingertip to the page.
"He is blank and immovable," he reads. "Short, sweet, descriptive." 
"Yeah?"
He sighs.
"Start sounding like you believe me, please." 
"Okay," I whisper.
Beneath the desk, he unhooks his ankles and his feet nudge gently against mine, his toes against my ankles. 
I stare down into my notebooks, fiddle with the pen in my hand, draw clouds in my margins as I think. 
After a while, Nath mutters, "Can't focus?"
I shake my head, "Not really." 
"What's on your mind?"
I bite my lip.
"You." 
He smirks. 
"Come on," he mutters. 
He stands, comes to my side of the table and pulls me out of my chair. He leads me into the wide stacks and then to the small study pod at the back of the floor. He closes the door behind us but leaves the blinds open. 
I look at the sofa and six-chair table filling the space.
My heart thuds as I look up into his face.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
He breathes heavily for a moment, stares down into my eyes, wets his lips.
"I'm going to make you come, if that's okay," he mutters. "And then you might focus enough to get some work done." 
"Don't count on it."
He puts a palm to the door, beside my head.
"I like your attitude, Lannie." 
I nod, lips parted, waiting for his kiss.
It comes a moment later, eager and aggressive, his teeth scraping my bottom lip, his tongue filling my mouth. I moan against his lips, grab at his sweater, press against his body. He pushes me back against the door, his hands on my waist.
"Hold still," he says.
"Make me."
He chuckles gently. 
He skims his left hand up to my shoulder and brushes his thumb back and forth across my collarbone. His other hand dives down to the waistband of my lycra gym shorts and slides inside. His fingertips nudge my panties away from my skin.
I put a hand to his chest.
"Wait, wait."
He holds his hand still inside my shorts.
"What?"
"There are people, like, right out there."
He shrugs, "So?"
I fidget against him. My thigh nudges between his legs. He grinds himself against me.
"Do you want me to stop?"
I think about it, hard.
Inside my shorts, his hand seems overlarge, but it's pleasingly warm even limp against my panties. My clit is already starting to stir and I can already feel myself growing wet. I can't take my eyes from his mouth. My heart thuds against my ribs. 
"No, don't," I whisper.
He turns his hand and pulls at the bow on the front of my thong. He slides his fingertips inside the tight panties and as his fingers fumble over my clit, his lips find my ear.
"Get out of your head," he mutters.
"But-"
He skims his nose down my chin, steals a chaste kiss from my lips.
"No but," he says. "Enjoy this, just, quietly."
I nod, tip my head back against the door and press my hips into his palm. He skims one finger down between my labia, traces the rim of my cunt and smiles against my lips when I shiver. 
I'm wet but not overwhelming so, and his finger retreats, comes back to my clit. He rolls it from side to side beneath his fingertips. But that's not how I like it.
"Circles," I whisper. "Go round it in slow heavy circles."
He nods, holds my hair back with one hand and pushes his face into my neck to kiss his way down it gently. 
He does as I ask and it isn't long before my knees start buckling. I grab at his waist and tug him closer. He puts one leg between mine but his hand on my clit stops me from grinding on his thigh. Still, the pressure of his fingertips is almost too much. 
I flex my toes inside my Converse and grab at his biceps.
My moans bounce around the room. 
He takes my lips under his for a moment. I press against him, moan into his mouth, bite at his lip. 
He mumbles, "You need to be a little quieter."
"You said that already."
"I meant it," he says, lips brushing over my forehead.
He quickens the pace of his fingers, presses down harder when his fingers skim over the hard, tender ridge of my clit. 
My knees shake. 
He puts a hand to my waist and pins me in place against the door.
I feel myself shaking against him, grab harder at his biceps, push my hips up into his palm. I feel the wet heat of precum in my panties and on his fingers.
Gentle pulses start rippling through my cunt, growing closer together and more intense.
My head tips back. I curse quietly. I fidget for more of his touch.
He skims a finger down between my labia and traces the soft shape of my hymen. His finger slides in easily, sinks in to its base, where the bones grind perfectly over the wide, sensitive rim of my cunt.
He draws his finger out an inch or so. But just as he pushes it back in, someone knocks on the door and it vibrates through my back.
Nathan shushes me, grinning.
"What's up?" He shouts.
"We have that room booked right now," someone replies. 
I can't help the giggle that bursts out of me.
"Ugh I was so close," I whisper to him.
"I heard that," they reply.
I meet Nathan's eyes. We laugh, loud.
He takes his hand out of my shorts and sucks his fingers. He sends me an approving smile and waggles his eyebrows.
"I hate you," I mutter.
"No you don't." 
He kisses my forehead and glances outside. He lets out a long breath.
"I don't know them," he mutters. "Okay, we need to be discreet, alright." 
"I was being discreet, until you dragged me in here and-" 
His lips crash onto mine. I fist my hands in his hair and hold him close. His hands skim under my t-shirt.
Another bang on the door.
I straighten up my panties and try my best not to rub my thighs together as we walk past the other students. He keeps his head low, tries to hide his red cheeks. When we reach our desk, he flops over the table with his head in his hands. 
He groans softly.
I pack up my things and wonder what to say. I am about to step away without saying anything when he reaches out and grabs my wrist.
He looks up at me.
"Hey, don't go."
"I'll never focus," I mutter.
He smirks.
"Well, at least let me buy you dinner tomorrow night." 
I suck my lips in and fidget.
"Okay, pick me up at seven?" 
He nods and lets me go.
I feel him watching me as I walk. It's the shorts, they are tight. I feel a few other eyes track me across campus too and smile to myself as I skip into my dorm.