Forbidden Literature

7| Vanilla

"How the hell are you going to accomplish that?"

"We'll find a way," I highly doubted it but she continued before I could protest. "Please just come. It's floor nine room 917!"

I groaned pinching the bridge of my nose. "And if I refuse?"

"Just get your ass over here Allison Miller!" she barked then hung up.

I stared at the blank phone for a long time before dragging myself from the bed. It's not like I'll be getting any sleep any time soon. But going to face the guy I ran away from sounded like the equivalent of getting shampoo in your eyes. Even worse than that though is refusing Sara, so I set aside my journal and went to work. I didn't want to look too presentable but I at least put on a bra and wiped off any remaining smudges of makeup.

After sliding on some slippers I made my way to the elevator pressing the 'up' arrow. I really felt sick thinking about seeing Aaron again for some reason. I really shouldn't have done that on the dance floor. I could blame the alcohol all I wanted but I knew that I made those decisions myself. I am responsible, not the liquor. And clearly I wasn't that drunk if I feel fine now. Maybe more like an intense buzz that played with my mind? I didn't want to think that it unleashed my inner emotions as well. Especially for my professor.

I sighed when the elevator door made a ding noise and slid open. Once inside I pressed the nine button only to realize the number eight was already lit up.

Puzzled I turned around to see a figure in the corner pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed, looking like the epitome of discomfort. I suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu.

It was Dr. Andrews.

I stepped back letting the door shut sealing us once again alone in the elevator. Seriously there are three other elevators why is he in this one every time?

A part of me was hoping he wouldn't notice me slinking in the corner while another greater part was hoping he would. The feeling I had from earlier when watching him from the dancefloor came rushing back almost all at once. Perhaps I was still buzzed after all. What the hell did I drink anyway?

While I mulled over that the professor remained silent leaning against the wall. I don't know why but I felt like I had to tiptoe around him like I would if Dad was sleeping in his office. It was as if any move would set him off, although I'm not quite sure what his 'off' would be. Still, I remained silent leaning against the wall trying not to disturb him.

A little fatigued from all that dancing I gave a quiet yawn and stretch when I leaned too far back against the elevator and my feet slid out from under me. Damn these slippers and their lack of grip. My little tumble and catch didn't go unnoticed by my elevator companion and suddenly his bloodshot eyes snapped up to meet mine.

Well there goes my cover.

I thought he was going to say something, maybe comment on my clumsiness, when instead his deep brown eyes ever so slowly started to scan my body like they did earlier. They traveled up and down making sure not to miss anything before stopping at my very exposed legs. I forgot I was still wearing my short-shorts. Something I usually wear only to bed because of how much skin it shows.

My mind was beating itself up over wearing them to Aaron's when I heard a low groan.

"Damnit Miller, are you trying to kill me tonight?"

My body stiffened. Surely I didn't hear him right.

"I, uh . . . I'm not sure what you mean," I bit my lower lip.

"Oh but you do," his voice grew lower, extra husky making me swallow hard. "You know, surely you know since you're an upper-level student, that when you sway your hips like you did earlier tonight it's enough to make any man forget his morals. Or when you bite your lip as you look at me from a distance that you are playing with fire. And when you parade around in something like that looking so delicious," he began turning to face me with something in his eyes, something like . . . hunger, "it makes it very, very difficult for me not to just take you right here and now."