Don't Look Back

Chapter 13 - Sylvia

November 2018
Bochum, Germany

As soon as Ian offers to turn on the camera, I agree.

Even though I've seen him recently at the conference, there's something different about him being this close to the camera. So close that I can see every detail of his face. His square jaw. His dark gaze. His defined lips.

God, how I missed those lips.

God, how I want to kiss those lips.

God, I've always wanted to kiss those lips from the first day we met.

Because Ian's started the call right after work, he's still dressed in his expensive business suit, radiating confidence. But not like Marcus. There's none of that terrible trickster vibe. No, Ian is approachable. Still, there's a sharp edge to him that wasn't there in college. One I can't quite pinpoint.

"My muse?" he asks. "Would you like to turn on your camera as well?"

A part of me is self-conscious. Though Ian's slender physique might never appear on the cover of a steamy romance novel, he's definitely attractive to me. Tall with wiry musculature, he has an understated strength honed by hours of hiking, swimming, and running. Whereas I still have a bit more padding than I'd like, even though I'm on a healthier diet.

"I'm not...as slender...as I used to be," I say.

"None of that matters as long as you're happy with yourself."

"Okay." After turning on the camera, I look away from the lens. It's almost like I'm too shy to face him right away. "Here I am."

"My muse, look at me."

When I bravely glance at him, it seems like all the sharpness has melted away. His gaze is kind. Gentle. Almost like a warm embrace from afar.

"You're beautiful," he breathes, his eyes fixated on the screen. "You don't need to worry about anything."

My heart swells until it fills the room.

His gaze is too intense, but I don't want to look away. "Thanks."

His lip ticks upward. "How was your day today? Tell me what happened."

I chuckle. "Like every weekday, I got my ass—oops, I mean butt—up at five-thirty and rushed out the door at six. Sorry, I know you don't like swearing."

"I don't mind it when you do it," he says.

"Sorry, habit." I breathe a sigh of relief. "Anyway, it takes me two hours to get to Münster—"

"Where you used to live?"

Ah-hah! So you have been keeping tabs on me.

"What? It's right on your bio," he says defensively.

"Yes, you're right." I wave a dismissive hand. "And I taught five ninety-minute sessions back-to-back with my business clients."

"That sounds exhausting."

"It is, but you know what teaching's like."

"I don't have to teach that many sessions every day."

"Sure, but you have to do research, labs, and publish." I consider other ways in which it's different. "No God-awful department meetings."

He nods.

"Anyway, I took the train home, during which I read most of the required reading for tomorrow's class. You know, for grad school."

"Am I keeping you from your work?" he asks, concerned. "I don't want you to have to stay up late on my account."