Dance for Me

Chapter Eight

My outlook is good come Monday morning. After spending the remainder of the weekend catching up on homework and wallowing in self-pity, I am resolved to start fresh. Nothing of the past week will affect my time moving forward, and anytime my thoughts attempt to stray toward the past, I shove it into a little black box in the back of my mind.

That plan goes to shit the moment I enter the classroom and see Ransom sitting at his desk. He's dressed casually in tan slacks, a light blue button-down shirt with a navy sweater-vest overtop. His head is bent over, one hand delved deep into his tousled black hair, the other writing something in red pen.

Annie is absent today, and I want to kill her for leaving me to my fate, but I'm also grateful, because it allows me to escape. With hurried strides, I bypass my usual seat in the front row and claim one at the back of the room.

I try my best to remain invisible throughout the next hour. I slump in my seat, keep my head down, and volunteer for nothing. When Ransom hands down our final assignment for the semester, I groan inwardly. We have to find a way to inspire art. I don't know what that means exactly, but he assured us that as the class progresses, it will become clearer. Of course, if we have any questions, he is always available after class.

I'd rather Google it.

The bad thing about being in the back of the room is that it prevents an easy escape. I do my best to blend in with my classmates, and as the door draws nearer, I think I have succeeded, until I hear my name.

"Miss Hart, can I see you for a moment?"

Those nine words chill me to the bone. My head droops on my shoulders. Why me? Taking a deep breath, I turn and make my way back into the room, stopping several feet from Ransom's desk.

He is busily tucking papers into his leather briefcase when I approach and it takes a moment for him to acknowledge me. "I noticed you hiding in the back today. Any particular reason for that?"

"I prefer the back of the room."

He nods, seeming to understand. "Does this have anything to do with Saturday night?"

My arms clench tighter around my books. "I'm afraid I had a few too many drinks with my friends Saturday night. My memory is a little foggy." A lie, but when cornered like prey, sometimes it's the only chance of escape.

Snapping the case closed, Ransom lays it flat on the desk, and then presses his palms into the soft material. "I understand if you feel uncomfortable around me, but I want you to know that I have zero interest in complicating matters any further than they already are. My job is on the line, so if it's okay with you, I'd like to put this weekend behind us and move forward."

"As if nothing happened?" My lip curls at the idea. It's what I wanted, but hearing those words come from his mouth somehow makes them more real. His willingness to walk away from me makes my stomach lurch.

Those midnight orbs lift, and I swear I see the same pain and confliction in them that I feel inside of me. Could it be that he doesn't want this any more than I do? That he, too, longs for our time together. "Nothing happened, and that's the way it needs to stay."

I hear the growl in his voice and even though I know it's wrong, my body responds. I feel the flames of desire licking between my legs, making my nipples grow tight. Does he have any idea what he does to me?

I'm not sure how to take his words. Is he just saying that because it's the right thing, the only way to cover his ass, or is it because he really believes that what we have shared together amounts to nothing?