Chapter 65
**Sara**
I was halfway through demolishing a pint of ice cream when my phone buzzed. I nearly dropped the spoon in my haste to grab it, my heart doing a weird flip-flop in my chest.
One new message from Tom.
"Holy crap," I muttered, fumbling with my butter fingers to unlock the screen. "He actually replied."
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever awaited me. A quick "Sorry, busy" message? A formal "Please don't contact me again" text? Or a string of random emojis because he'd sat on his phone?
What I got instead was... a novel.
I stared at my phone, my eyes growing wider with each word I read:
"Yep, I quit. I couldn't keep pretending I didn't want to kiss you senseless every time I saw you."
Holy. Shit.
I reread the message. And again. And one more time for good measure. Nope, it still said the same thing. I hadn't suddenly developed dyslexia or entered an alternate universe where text messages rearranged into declarations of... whatever the hell this was.
Before I could overthink it, I tossed the ice cream container aside, rushed to the sink, and frantically washed my hands. Sticky fingers and expensive smartphones don't mix, after all.
With trembling fingers, I dialed Tom's number. Each ring felt like an eternity.
"Hello?" His deep voice made me shiver.
"Tom?" I squeaked, then cleared my throat. "I mean, hi. It's Sara."
"I know," he chuckled. "Caller ID exists, you know."
"Very funny. Look, what's the deal with that message? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
"What message?" He sounded genuinely confused.
"Oh, don't play dumb," I said, my voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "The one about wanting to kiss me senseless? Ring any bells?"
"Oh, that message," Tom said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I meant every word of it, Sara. In fact, I'm thinking about all the ways I'd like to kiss you right now."
My breath caught in my throat. Was this really happening? "Are you... are you pranking me?" I asked, trying to sound casual. "Because if you are, it's not funny, mister."
"Do I sound like I'm joking?"
"Well, no, but... I mean, you left the university and everything. It's all so sudden."
"Who told you I left the university?"
"Jessica," I said, confused. "She said she overheard some faculty talking about it this morning."
Tom let out a bark of laughter. "Sara, I hate to break it to you, but your friend Jessica is either a world-class prankster or needs her hearing checked. I haven't left the university, and I'm not planning to leave anytime soon."
I blinked, processing this information. "But... but she said..."
"She lied to you," Tom said gently. "Or maybe she misheard something. Either way, I'm still very much employed at the university."
"Oh," I said, feeling both relieved and embarrassed. "Now I feel like an idiot."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. Though I have to admit, I'm a little flattered by your reaction."
"Flattered? Why?" I asked, my brow furrowing.
"Well," he drawled teasingly, "it seems you were pretty worried when you thought I'd left. Could it be that you missed me already? Couldn't you bear the thought of not seeing me in class?"
My cheeks flushed, and I was glad he couldn't see me. "What? No! I was just... curious, that's all. Purely academic interest."
"Purely academic, huh?" Tom's voice dropped lower. "Is that why you texted me so quickly? Out of academic curiosity?"
"Exactly. It's not every day a professor just up and quits mid-semester. I was concerned about... about the impact on the class curriculum."
"Right," Tom said, drawing out the word. "And I suppose that's why you called me, too? To discuss the finer points of corporate finance?"
"Absolutely. I'm very passionate about... about..."
"About?" Tom prompted.
"About... depreciation methods!" I blurted out, grabbing at the first financial term that popped into my head.
Tom burst out laughing. "Depreciation methods? Really, Sara? That's the best you could come up with?"
I groaned, burying my face in a throw pillow. "Oh, shut up. I panicked, okay?"
"Clearly," he said, still chuckling. "You know, for someone who claims not to miss me, you seem awfully flustered."
"I'm not flustered," I protested weakly. "I'm just... warm. It's hot in here."
"Mhmm," Tom hummed, his voice low and seductive. "And why is that, I wonder? Could it be because you're thinking about me?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, ignoring how his words quickened my pulse. "Nope. Definitely not. I haven't thought about you at all. In fact, I forgot you existed until Jessica mentioned you this morning."
"Is that so?" Tom's voice was pure sin. "Then I suppose you haven't been replaying our night together in your head? Haven't you been thinking about my hands on your body, my lips on your skin?"
I bit my lip, memories flooding back unbidden. "N-nope," I stammered. "Not even once."
"Liar," Tom said softly. "I bet you're blushing right now, aren't you? Your cheeks all pink, just like they were that night when I—"
"Okay, okay!" I cut him off, my face burning. "Fine, maybe I've thought about it once or twice. Or... you know, a few times. But that doesn't mean anything!"
"Of course not. It doesn't mean anything that I can't stop thinking about you either."
My breath caught in my throat. "You... you can't?"
"Not for a second," he admitted. "Why do you think I sent that text? I've been going crazy. Seeing you in class, remembering how you felt in my arms... it's driving me insane."
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "Oh," I said eloquently.
"Oh? That's all you have to say?" Tom teased. "After I bare my soul to you?"
"What do you want me to say? That I've been thinking about you too? That I can't focus in class because I keep remembering how your hands felt on my skin? That I—"
I cut myself off, realizing what I'd just admitted. There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.
"Sara?" Tom whispered. "Please, continue. That you what?"
"That I... um... that I really enjoy your lectures on corporate finance?"
"Nice try," Tom chuckled. "But I don't think that's what you were going to say."
"It totally was," I insisted, my voice rising an octave. "I'm just really passionate about... about..."
"Depreciation methods?" Tom supplied helpfully.
"Yes! Exactly!" I latched onto the lifeline. "God, I just can't get enough of those sweet depreciation methods. Gets me all hot and bothered, you know?"
"Oh, Sara. You're absolutely terrible at lying, you know that?"
I groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "I know, I know. It's a curse."
"So why don't you just tell me the truth?" His voice softened. "What were you really going to say?"
"I... I was going to say that I can't stop thinking about you either," I admitted in a rush. "That every time I see you in class, I remember how it felt when you kissed me, and I... I want to do it again."
I heard him gasp. "Sara..."
"And now I've made things weird," I babbled, panic rising. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. Can we just pretend this never happened? I'll go back to being your student, and you can go back to being my handsome but totally off-limits professor, and—"
"Sara," Tom interrupted. "Stop."
I snapped my mouth shut, my cheeks burning.
"Do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that?" he asked softly.
"Um... since about thirty seconds ago when I said it?"
Tom laughed. "No, you adorable idiot. Since the moment I saw you walk into my classroom."
"Oh," I said eloquently. "That's... that's a while."
"It is," he agreed. "And it's been torture, seeing you every day and not being able to touch you, to kiss you, to taste you..."
I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "So... what do we do now?"
"I suppose we have two options."
"Okay," I said, sitting up straighter. "Hit me with them."
"Option one: We pretend this conversation never happened. We go back to being professor and student, and we spend the rest of the semester silently pining for each other like characters in a badly written romance novel."
I snorted. "Sounds thrilling. What's option two?"
"Why don't you tell me what option two might be?"