“Teachers aren’t really supposed to do this kind of thing with students,” she says, eyes closed, cheeks stained crimson on alabaster white.
“I think I’m going to ace that final. Maybe we can skip the chastity clause?”
“I think that would undermine the reward system,” she pants, but presses her body closer. “Don’t you want to focus?”
I answer by pushing her hips against mine, our bodies slowly grinding as our hands explore. There are a lot of things I want to focus on.
“Sterling.” The call is soft, barely audible over the blood pounding in my ears.
“Yeah, Lucky?” I respond, my teeth nibbling her ear. Adair tenses. I pull away. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I didn’t say anything,” she whispers. “I think there’s someone at your door.”
“Sterling!” This time there’s no mistaking it. Someone’s calling from outside the door which is, thankfully, locked.
“Francie!” I hiss quietly. We’ve been studying for longer than I thought. “Get dressed, quick.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re the one who wanted me to take off the pants!” Adair picks them up and dashes for the bathroom door. “Shit! It’s locked!”
“Sterling, are you there?” Francie calls on the other side of the door.
Adair is on the bed, desperately trying to pull on her leather pants, her legs stuck straight up, like she even needs gravity to help with the process.
I tiptoe to the door, retrieve her top, and throw it at her. That’s when I hear Cyrus. Cyrus, who is supposed to be on his way to the Bahamas or the Virgin Islands or somewhere I’ll never be able to afford to visit.
“Francie? I’m Cyrus.” he says. “Sterling told me you were coming.”
“I didn’t think I would get to meet you.” I can hear her hug him, the smoosh is audible.
Yes, keep up the small talk, I pray.
“I need to hit the road soon, but I forgot my phone charger.”
Keys jangle. Come on, Cyrus. Figure it out.
The key goes in the lock. The sock is universal, shithead.
The door opens inward, and I am greeted by my foster mother and my soon-to-be ex-roommate. I’m going to kill him, or maybe roast him alive. My own Thanksgiving turkey. I slide over to block their view of the bed and try to seem like I was hurrying to the door. Cyrus brushes past me, a shit-eating grin sparking on his face as he catches sight of Adair standing up from the bed, her top on inside out.
“Well,” Cyrus says flatly. “I guess that explains the sock.” He tosses it to her.
“Francie, I’m so sorry. I lost track of time,” I say. Adair appears at my side, somehow already more composed than me. “This is Adair. Adair MacLaine. My, um, friend.”
Adair’s eyes dart in my direction at the sudden demotion, then smiles warmly at Francie. “Pleased to meet you.”
Come on, Francie. Be cool.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too.” Francie gives me a small, inscrutable frown before returning to Adair. “I wish I could say Sterling has mentioned you, but Sterling hasn’t told me much of anything since he began school.”
“He’s a bit of a mystery sometimes,” Adair says knowingly.
“Well, she’s got your number.” Francie laughs.
I can always tell how Francie feels about a person. If she dislikes someone, her face gets pinched and her tone snappy. But she sounds like she’s reconnecting with an old friend as she says, “I’ve had years to get used to it, hon.” She grabs Adair and hugs her like a mama bear claiming a lost cub.
Adair looks a little ruffled by the affection, and I remember she doesn’t like hugs.
“Will you be joining us for Thanksgiving?” Francie asks her.
“Oh, um, I’m supposed to have dinner with my family.” She spares a glance at me. “I’d invite you to our house, but, honestly, I think this year will be a little rough.”
“That’s okay,” Cyrus steps in, saving the day. “The Eaton always delivers a meal to its guests.”
“The what-now?” Francie asks. “I figured we’d hit the grocery store and cook in the community kitchen. The dorm brochure said there was one on the ground floor.”
“There is?” Cyrus shrugs. It’s not like he’s ever bothered to check the Valmont dorm amenities. Why would he, when he has a five-star hotel at his disposal?
“Surely Sterling has cooked for you.” Francie clucks at me when she sees their vacant expressions. She pins her eyes on Adair. “Not even you?”
“No, ma’am.” Adair bites back a smile.
“I raised him better than that. No wonder you look so skinny,” she says, skimming my form. “You can’t live off dorm food.”
“Are you from the South?” Cyrus asks. “Because I feel like you will fit in here.”
“I’m from Queens,” Francie says as if that settles the matter.
Cyrus checks his watch. “I have to get going. You have the keys?”
I nod, carefully avoiding Adair’s eyes. I’d mentioned my arrangement with Cyrus casually, but I don’t want to linger on it. Adair MacLaine has never had to borrow a friend’s place to house her family. Because her house is the size of a castle and features multiple guesthouses on property?
“I should go, too.” Adair pops onto her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. “It was really nice to meet you.”
“Will I see you again?” Francie asks her.
“Um, that’s up to Sterling.”
Two sets of demanding eyes land on me. Nothing like being put on the spot.
“If you can get away from your family,” I say. The thought of spending the whole week without Adair sucks, even though I’m genuinely looking forward to showing Francie around. But I’m not certain Adair will enjoy being dragged to every free exhibit in Nashville, or eating whatever we can concoct in the hotel suite’s kitchenette. Not when she’s used to country clubs and multi-course dining.
“God, I hope I
