Break Your Heart Page 6

  I took the corner table’s order, relayed it to the cook, then began to roll silverware in napkins. It was brainless work, not enough to distract me from the heavy guilt in my heart.

  I’d made so many mistakes last night. I was going to drive home drunk. I had kissed my professor. And then, when he’d tried to push me away, I’d run off like a kid.

  Way to handle it like a grown-up, Megan, I chastised myself. I could hardly believe how things had gone down. Yeah, he’d kissed me back . . . but probably out of shock or something. Not because there was anything there. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have shoved me away like that. I wasn’t sure how I’d live this down.

  The food order came up. I served it. Fetched ketchup, poured more coffee. I was basically on autopilot. My mind was plagued with what to do now.

  Only one idea came to mind.

  I was going to have to quit cryptography. There was no way on God’s green earth I could face Nick—Dr. Muramoto—again. Not after I’d thrown myself on him. Not after he’d had to remind me what a bad idea that had been. The look in his eyes, the tightness of his face, had been difficult to see.

  Shit. This was going to ruin my plans. Anxiety wrapped around my gut and squeezed. I was supposed to graduate in the spring. I’d already put my application in. What could I do now? All my major classes were closed at this point.

  I ducked behind the counter, stopped and drew in a steadying breath. There was always a solution. My parents had told me that time and again. Life might not work out the way I wanted it to, but that didn’t mean I was stuck.

  No, I couldn’t replace the class this semester. But I could take one in the summer and still start grad school in the fall. I just had to pray that there was a suitable one to fulfill my major requirement. Yeah, it would mean no graduation this spring, but what choice did I have?

  Then I remembered that he was my thesis advisor. Double shit.

  That couldn’t be helped. He was already my second in that position. I couldn’t see the dean assigning me a third. But I could limit our interactions to email only. He’d given me the feedback, and I was working on it now. If he was a gentleman, maybe he’d just leave it at that and not mention any of that . . . thing between us. Or my dropping his class.

  The faster I finished the paper, the faster I’d be done dealing with him. I could move past this awful stage.

  Even though I’d still see him around campus. Ugh. But maybe with time, the pain would lessen. It had to.

  Yeah, I had a lot to do when I got off work.

  The door dinged, and in came Patrick, alone. He sat at my table, so I pushed aside my stresses, walked over and gave him a big smile as I handed him the breakfast menu. “Hey, how’s it going?”

  He groaned and gave me a weak smile. “Hangover.”

  “I feel ya.” I chuckled. “Good night?”

  “Could have been better.” There was a meaningful look in his eyes that should have made my body react. But I didn’t feel anything. It was either because I felt all busted or because of that kiss.

  “What can I get ya?” I asked him smoothly. “Coffee?”

  He flipped his mug over. “Yes, please.”

  I came back and poured coffee in the mug.

  “I know what else I want,” he said, then paused. “Your number.” He pushed the napkin over toward me as he eyed me up and down.

  I bit my lip and tried to not roll my eyes at the lack of finesse in his approach. Then I grabbed my pen from my apron and scrawled my name and number down. As I walked away, I realized the enthusiasm over Patrick wasn’t there anymore. But I also knew I couldn’t sit here and think about something that was never going to happen.

  The best way to move on was to move on. And that was exactly what I was determined to do.

  Chapter 7

  I exited my ordinary differential equations classroom on Tuesday morning, clutching my quiz in my hand and grinning like an idiot. Aced it—as well I should. I’d studied hard last night. I stuck the paper in my bag and went into the student lounge area, coffee in my other hand.

  I dropped in a seat near the corner, out of the path of people walking, and eyed clusters of students wandering through the math building. My next class, algebraic number theory, wasn’t for a couple of hours. So I sipped my coffee and rolled my tight shoulders. The tension in my body hadn’t gone away when I’d sent in my class drop request yesterday. If anything, it had gotten bigger.

  I wasn’t guaranteed there’d be a suitable class this summer. That was a huge gamble. Plus, I hadn’t heard a peep from Nick yet. Yeah, I’d totally given up on trying to think of him as Dr. Muramoto. The kiss had knocked down that wall for me.

  I reviewed the test to check out the two problems I’d missed. At first it wasn’t apparent what I’d done wrong, but when I’d found my error, I wrote notes in the margin to help me remember for next time.

  “Hey, Megan!” The voice jarred me from my review. Dallas stood there, beaming widely as he peered down at me. His hair was tousled and his cheeks tinged pink, like he’d just come inside. He unwound his scarf. “Missed you in class. You feeling okay? Wanna see my notes on what we discussed?”

  I squirmed. I hadn’t had a chance to tell Kelly or anyone else in there that I was dropping. I figured I’d shoot her a text in a bit. She’d sent me one yesterday asking if I was coming to class, but I hadn’t responded. “Um, I’m good, thanks. I’m going to drop the class, actually.”

  His brow knitted. “Really? Why?” He took the seat across from me. His eyes flashed with concern. “Are you doing badly in there or something? You seemed on top of everything so far.” The flush on his face grew bolder and he swallowed. “Sorry. I’m being really nosy and overwhelming you with questions.”

  He was a sweet guy. I found myself softening a bit toward him. It was obvious he liked me—and that I made him nervous. I had to admit, it was flattering. “It’s not that. It’s just . . . not working out. I think I’m going to try another class in the summer.”

  “Miss Porter,” I heard from beside me.

  My whole body flushed all over in a flare of heat, and I swallowed hard. I looked up to see Nick’s eyes hard on mine. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Good morning, Dr. Muramoto,” I murmured.

  “Do you mind if we talk for a moment in my office?” He sounded so professional and unemotional. I wished I could turn my feelings off like that. My heart was thrashing around in my chest.

  I guessed he wanted to talk to me about the drop request. Unfortunately, I’d found out yesterday morning from the registrar that at this point in the semester, we had to get them signed by the prof. School policy—something about classroom quotas and wanting profs to be more involved in student academics. I’d figured that given what had gone down between the two of us, Nick would be all too glad to have me gone. So I’d just slid it into his mailbox.

  Nick stepped away, giving me space and time to gather my stuff.

  Dallas stood, and with a wink he whispered to me, “Good luck. And I hope you don’t quit. I’d like to see you stick around.” He walked off, holding his bag dangling from his hand.

  I steadied myself and followed Nick down the hall to the second-to-last door on the right. His door was plain, with only a piece of paper taped on the window announcing his name. He opened it and ushered me inside, then closed it behind him.

  As he moved toward his desk, I looked around. The room was pristine, with books tucked neatly into the large shelves. His desk was tidy, similar to mine—everything had its own pile. It wasn’t impersonal; I could see a photo of an older Asian couple on the edge of the desk, plus a small pile of seashells right in front. Must be his parents in the picture. He looked just like his father. Same eyes, same hairline, same strong jaw. But the softness of his mouth came from his mother.

  I sat in the chair opposite his desk and rested my hands in my lap. My pulse thrummed so hard I could hear it rushing in my ears. It was hard keeping my trembling fingers still. I knew I shouldn�
��t be nervous, but I was. Nervous and afraid. And still crazy embarrassed.

  “Megan, look at me,” he said, a quiet heat in his voice.

  I lifted my gaze, saw a bunch of emotions in his eyes, most prominently concern. “I know what you want to talk about, and I think this is best. I shouldn’t be in your class anymore.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “I want you to rethink this. I know you’re upset—”

  “You have no idea how I’m feeling,” I shot out, then bit my lip. I wasn’t going to open myself up to him and let him see how I felt. Not when I was still stinging from his rejection.

  I was a rational person, but something about him made me irrational. Impulsive. This wasn’t like me. I was fun, yes, but not unstable. Nick was mixing me all up inside, and my attraction to him was making me react in ways unlike me. I prided myself on being in control, having a good time with guys on my terms.

  Nothing about this situation gave me any control.

  “I’m sorry. You’re right,” he conceded. He sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. “I feel bad about this, Megan. I don’t want you messing up your plans over this.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” I managed to say. Why did the sound of my name on his lips make me glow, despite my best efforts? “I’m gonna see what’s available in the summer. That way I can still graduate and go to grad school in the fall.”

  He was quiet for a moment. Tension thickened between us. I shifted in my chair.

  “There’s no reason why you need to get off track because of . . .” He swallowed and looked down at his desk, then up at me. Regret shone in his eyes. “I don’t want that on my conscience. I know how important this is to you. Look, we’re both adults. We can be totally fine and make it through this semester.”

  Seeing the sheer honesty in his eyes made me forget he was nine years older than me. Funny how that didn’t seem to factor in to how I viewed him. Maybe because that just didn’t matter to me. After all, he was right—we were both adults.

  Yet I was running away, the way a kid would, not an adult who was confident with her life. Unease worked its way into my chest. I wasn’t a coward normally. I faced adversity head-on. Except now.

  Could he be right? Could we put aside Friday’s disaster and push through anyway?

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “I know you’re uncomfortable. I’m deeply sorry about that. And if you want to leave the class, I’ll sign the paper.” He nodded toward the end of his desk, and there it was. My drop request. “But if you stay, I promise to be professional and do my best to help you succeed.” He swallowed. “You’re one of the most intelligent and promising students I’ve come across in a while. Don’t let this knock you off your goals.”

  The sincerity in his eyes ate away at me. “I’m not sure I can get past throwing myself at you,” I admitted, knowing my mortification was thick in my voice. I looked down at my lap, trying to regain my cool. “That was so not like me. I feel terrible. I put you in a bad position, and I’m very sorry about that. I can’t tell you enough how sorry.”

  “Megan.” My name was a whispered caress that made me look up. The warmth in his eyes startled me, and I couldn’t look away. “That wasn’t your fault. You weren’t the one in the wrong here.”

  “But I misread—”

  “No, you didn’t.” The admission seemed to tear out of him. He sucked in a deep breath and continued, “I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to keep kissing you, actually. But I had to stop because I can’t let myself be attracted to you. Not when we both have so much at stake.”

  All the air whooshed out of my lungs. I stared at him for a moment in shock. His words echoed in my head.

  He was attracted to me too.

  He wanted to kiss me.

  I was no longer embarrassed. It hadn’t been all in my imagination.

  “Stopping that kiss was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” he admitted. There was a molten heat in his eyes that reinforced his words. “But it was the right thing.”

  My lips parted, and I found my gaze drawn to his mouth. Remembering how good he tasted. I blinked and shook it off. If I was going to stay in his class, I had to keep these feelings to myself.

  I straightened my back. Nodded. As strange as it sounded, knowing I wasn’t alone in this attraction somehow made it easier. I didn’t have to feel awkward. I hadn’t just thrown myself at him—okay, yeah, I kinda had, but it hadn’t been unwelcome.

  I could be the adult I professed myself to be. I could shelve this. As my mom and dad told me, when I got out there in the “real world,” I’d be forced to deal with situations that were difficult. Surely this qualified as one of those times.

  “Okay. If you’re sure you’re fine with this, I won’t quit,” I said.

  His body seemed to relax with my words, and he gave me a grateful smile. It made me realize that as much guilt as I’d been carrying around, he probably had too. Feeling like it was his fault that I wanted to change my plans. That understanding softened my heart some. I appreciated his not taking the easy, convenient path—he could have signed the slip and not had to deal with me anymore.

  But he hadn’t.

  “So what now?” I asked him.

  “Now you find the lecture notes from another student and get caught up. You have an assignment due tomorrow.” Dr. Muramoto was back, but his smile and wink put me at ease.

  “I appreciate your giving me another chance,” I told him. I tossed my bag over my shoulder and grabbed my forgotten cup of coffee, probably now long cold.

  “I’m glad you’re not going,” he said in a husky tone. “And if you need any help getting caught up, just let me know. We’ll figure something out.” He paused, seemed to want to say something else but shook his head instead. “Anyway. I’d better go too. I have a class in a few minutes.”

  I nodded and left his office. The walk back to the lounge was light. Students passed me, but I barely noticed. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d told me. That I was smart and promising.

  And that he’d wanted to keep kissing me.

  Suddenly I was glad he’d had better willpower than I’d had, given my new understanding of the situation. Was Casey’s advice right—should I just give it the semester and see what happened after that? We’d both be in different spots at that point. He wouldn’t be my prof. The line would be a lot less fuzzy.

  It would be so hard sitting in his class, remembering how he tasted, how turned on he’d made me. But I would do it. I had to do it; after all, there was no guarantee I’d find another suitable class in the summer.

  Surely I could keep this attraction on the back burner until then. No one else would have to know. I’d never told Kelly that Nick had been at the dance club, nor had I told her about my crush. And I knew Casey would take it to the grave if I asked her to.

  This would be our secret, his and mine. And if he was adult enough to put aside his attraction and do the right thing, I could be too. I would be.

  I dumped my coffee in the garbage and stopped at a vending machine, deciding what I should get to fuel my way through more studying and my next class. Soda? Juice?

  My phone buzzed. I took it out of my jeans pocket. It was a text.

  Watcha doin?

  I didn’t recognize the number. I stared at it for a minute, wondering how to ask who it was, when it buzzed again.

  This is Patrick. Im at studnt center. LOL. Where R U? Cum ovr? Winkwink

  He was texting me, asking me to hang out. Something I’d wanted for a while. But it didn’t give me the thrill in my heart the way it should. It had to be because his typing was horrendous. I tried to not groan at the blatant, awkward come-on.

  Not overly suave was he.

  I bought a Diet Coke and took a seat back in the lounge area. Then I typed back, Waiting for my next class to start soon. Okay, kind of a lie, but I wasn’t quite ready to see him yet. Not with thoughts of Nick still filling my head.
/>   Wat classes R U takin?

  Three math classes and psychology of stress. ;-P You? I replied.

  Im takin a math class 2. U shld tuter me. Free this wk?

  God, his typing was awful. Like, really awful. What were we, twelve? Then I felt bad for judging him. He didn’t seem like a dumb guy in person, but here I was, making assumptions. Just because he wasn’t as intelligent as Nick—

  Nope. Stop that right there, I ordered myself. That was a dangerous road to start going down. I wasn’t going to compare Nick to other guys. Frankly, because what was the point? He and I weren’t going to date—at least, not for the foreseeable future. All it would do was frustrate me. And it wasn’t fair to others either.

  I refused to sit here and put my life on hold the whole semester. Especially since I had no idea what was going to happen when class was over. If he’d try to approach me or not. I was going to make myself keep on keeping on. Having fun, going out. Studying hard and spending time with friends and family. This . . . crush on Nick shouldn’t change that.

  Sure, I’d be happy to help you study sometime. Gotta go—talk to you later! I typed back. Vague-enough answer. Should buy me some time until we could talk in person and I could get a better feel for him then.

  I popped open my Diet Coke, took a swig and cracked open my notebook. Study time.

  Chapter 8

  Kelly groaned and dropped her head on her open book. “Remind me why I’m taking this class again,” she said in a miserable tone.

  I gave a soft laugh and leaned toward her, careful to keep my voice low so as not to disturb anyone else in the library. “Hang in there. Midterm is just three weeks away.” I peered down at my book to our current chapter on stream ciphers. “Okay, let’s quiz each other on what we’ve discussed so far before we keep going.”

  Nick had warned us that the cryptography midterm was worth a big portion of our grade, so Kelly and I had started meeting Tuesdays and Thursdays to study. This wasn’t a class we wanted to get behind on.

  She looked up at me and gave a crooked grin. “You’re so responsible.”