Of Literature & Kisses (Forbidden Romance)

Chapter 24 - After You

I had the coffee cake in a container, waiting outside his classroom when the lunch hour began. I planned to leave it on his desk with a thank you note if he wasn't there, but I almost wanted him to be, for the strangest reason I couldn't quite place. Avoiding him was proving worse than facing the way he affected me.

I glanced through the window and got what I wanted. He was in his classroom, sitting behind his desk and writing something into a notebook. He stopped the moment I entered, the pen standing motionlessly in a hand too big for comfort, strong veins dispersing underneath tanned skin.

"Good afternoon, Cece."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gallagher. Oh, you don't have to get up. I just wanted to drop something off," I stopped in front of his desk and handed him the container.

A smile warmed his eyes when he noticed what I had given him. "Hold on a minute." He stood, his form dressed today in complete black attire, and headed toward the door. He returned momentarily with a steaming cup of coffee.

"That's for you. Stay and share with me," he said. He retrieved a silver mug from his own desk, the coffee cake, and some plastic utensils and plates from a drawer to set them atop a student desk. Then he took another desk and positioned it to face the last. He motioned for me to sit, waiting until I did so that he could take his own seat facing me.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he questioned, watching me with slightly studious eyes as he sampled from the pastry.

I took a sip of my coffee, willing myself to relax.

"I thought I would thank you in some way for all your help during the application process," I looked behind him for a second at the mint colored walls. "It would've been a lot harder without you there."

His face remained impassive. "I didn't need anything in return. I think we can both agree we help each other?"

I nodded. "Yes, we can agree."

A smile suddenly lit his features. "But I would never refuse a coffee cake, under any circumstances. And not one as honestly perfect as this one. It's one of my favorites."

"I know," I said softly. I decided I wouldn't omit the truth of how I knew such a thing. That would have been as much of a lie. I cast my eyes down involuntarily. "Your mom asked me if I could help her at the bakery this once since her assistant had a family emergency. That's how I know. I hope you don't mind."

"Hey, Cece," the tone of his voice, softer than velvet, took me by surprise. "Look at me."

I did as he asked, the sight of him becoming the only thing in my line of vision.

"I don't mind."

I smiled. "That's good. I like the bakery. Your mom is wonderful and very talented. I've learned a lot from her."

"She is both those things and more. I'm glad you both get along. Don't stop going on account of me. I promise you, I don't mind. I do have a question for you, however."

"What's that?"

He took a drink of his coffee, leaning back in the chair. His eyes immediately went to mine, attentive. Was he trying to gauge my reaction?

"There's a literary convention tomorrow at Harvard. I'm to be one of the speakers. I know it's on a weekend, and this might be highly inappropriate of me, but I would like you to come, if you can of course. You'll have the opportunity to meet with recruiters for the university and get a feel of the campus, see if you actually like it after being exposed to it. And of course, you'd get to have me talk your ear off for another hour of your life." He grinned gorgeously.

The gears in my mind started to turn.

"With you?" I asked.

"Yes. With me."

I drank more coffee, hoping the sound of my drinking might muffle the hurriedness of my heart. "I'd like that."

"Good. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine."

"Is there something I should bring?"

"No," he looked at me. "Nothing but yourself."

It didn't matter that he said I shouldn't take anything. The night before I had set about baking scones for our breakfast, leaving the rest for my brothers. I also brewed a pot of coffee I would pour into travel paper cups I always kept in case I ever needed them. Today was one of those days.

I had arisen much earlier than I needed to, giving myself ample time to get ready. That, and I could hardly get a wink of sleep throughout the night, too nervous to fully settle into a state of rest.

I had slept in a braid, so I had only to comb through my hair with my fingers to be pleased with the wavy outcome. I applied some light makeup, then set about finding something suitable to wear. The air was bitingly chilly outside, so I chose black thermal leggings and paired it with a gray sweater dress and boots. I slipped on a pair of earrings and a plaid cream scarf, sprayed a delicate mist of gardenia, and took a hold of my satchel. In the kitchen I added creamer and sugar to the coffees, carefully placing their lids. It was exactly nine o'clock when he parked along the side of the road.

I had been resolved to walk myself to the car, but his knock, so soft only the woken would hear, told me otherwise.

I opened the front door and all six feet of him claimed my vision. He wore a gray wool blazer that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, unbuttoned over a black turtleneck, and dark pants. He smelled of amber and pine, warm and masculine. His hair, exposed to the morning light, had more copper than brown as it curled around his neck.

"Good morning," he smiled, breaking me out of my trance.

"Good morning. I've got breakfast." I turned away from him, walking to the kitchen. "You can come in. They're both asleep and won't be awake anytime soon."

I took both coffees from the counter, turning around to find him there standing. He was bold and beautiful in my small living room, a polished contrast against the faded fabric of my furniture.

"It's fresh," I stretched out a cup to him. "Let me know if you'd like more cream or sugar."

"Thank you." He took it, but he didn't taste. He just looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to make my next move. I took the scones I had warmed and placed them into a paper bag, then took my own cup.

"I made scones last night. They're cranberry. Did you like the coffee as is?"

He nodded, so uncharacteristically quiet of him that I thought I could go crazy. What was going through his mind? Regret? Maybe it had sunk in that he was taking an awkwardly infatuated student with him to a highly respected university.

He just kept looking at me, a hard-set clench to his jaw.

"I-Is everything okay? If you've changed your mind..."

He ran his hand through his hair, and I had the pleasure of watching it fall neatly back into place.

His expression softened. "No, Cece. Not at all. We should get going."

Once we were by the door, I juggled both coffee and paper-bag in one hand and started to reach for my coat on the hanger. He took it before I was able. "Let me," he said quietly, opening the coat and standing behind me. He helped me into it, one arm first, then the other. A spark of sensation started at my neck and spread down my spine when he reached into the collar, fingers brushing against my skin, and gently took the waves of my hair out from underneath.

I turned around, latching onto his eyes. My throat went dry, but I managed the shakiest of thank you's and a whisper of a smile.

He opened the door for us. "After you."

We met with New England's crisp winter air, but I couldn't think of the bite of December while standing next to the man with autumn in his hair.