Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Such A Mess
Everything comes to a screeching halt. I know that voice, with its rich velvet depths and its barely-there accent. But never, not ever, have I heard it sound like it does right now.
Slowly, as if in a dream, I disengage from Fiero. My lips are swollen and tender, my skin hot and tight, my whole body drugged by pheromones. I turn my head and see Professor Bestia.
His expression is an anguished mixture of shock, fury, and something else my mind refuses to name. Something that feels like a dagger through my heart.
I leap from Fiero’s lap, confused, horrified, understanding only that my world has gone from dreamy to dreadful in a heartbeat. “You … what … you …”
Fiero says something, sharply, in Italian. I think it’s You know her? Matteo snaps something back, also in Italian. And then they’re having what sounds like a very stormy argument, accompanied by numerous emphatic gestures.
They really do talk with their hands.
Their words are flying fiercely back and forth, but I don’t get the sense that it’s about to turn violent. Despite that small comfort, I’m miserable. My stomach hurts, and I know what the other thing was now, that I saw in Matteo’s eyes.
Hurt. Betrayal.
But I haven’t actually betrayed him. There’s nothing between us except friendship and a professor/student relationship. He’s never expressed any interest in me beyond those boundaries, but it’s very clear that he’s wounded from finding me with his brother, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt Matteo.
I want to curl up in a little ball and die.
It hits me then that the room is silent. The men have wound down their argument and are both looking at me. “So,” Fiero says. “We have a situation.”
“I’m sorry.” My throat is tight with unshed tears. I can’t look at them, either one of them. I knew Fiero was Dr. Bestia’s’s twin, and I should have said something. “I never meant …” I shake my head, hard, as if to dislodge all the awful thoughts running through it. “I should go.”
Maybe I can do a late drop of my Italian class, and if I’m lucky, never lay eyes on my professor or his brother again.
“No,” Fiero says. “That you should not do.”
I blink, frown, and force myself to glance at him briefly. My mind is addled from stress. “Excuse me?”
“We need to talk to you.” He says it calmly, patiently, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I shake my head. The last thing I want to do is to have to listen to them, look at them, and think about how badly I’ve fucked everything up.
“Dani.” Professor Bestia’s voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it, and it breaks something in me. “Please stay.”
I almost say yes, for him. Because I owe him that much. But my humiliation is so strong that it overwhelms and overrides every other thought and emotion.
“I can’t,” I say. I grab my coat and am out the door before they can say another word.
Back in my apartment, I try to soothe myself. Even after the long, very brisk walk home, I’m still stunned to have gone from intense physical pleasure to deep emotional agony in the span of a few seconds.
I’ve embarrassed myself, and I’ve hurt Professor Bestia. I still don’t fully understand his reaction, but my stomach is tied in knots nonetheless.
Instead of the coffee I usually drink by the gallon, I steep a cup of chamomile tea and take it into the bathroom, where I put on soft music and submerge myself in a warm bath.
Maybe I overshoot my attempts at self-comfort, because instead of feeling better, I find tears running down my cheeks. At first, I wipe them away, but eventually I give in to a good cry, even as, in a corner of my mind, I mock myself for reacting so badly.
These things happen, I know. Not quite like today, perhaps, but misunderstandings are an inevitable part of being human. I haven’t done anything wrong, not intentionally.
It’s just that I’ve never wanted any man – any two men – like I do my professor and his brother. Being disappointed by my usual dates is one thing, but disappointing the man – men – who seem to be so different from my norm is quite another.
It’s like my usual dating failures magnified a gazillion times.
And why do I still want them both so much? Yes, I know that’s a thing; my friend Katie, and a few other women I know, are in long-term relationships with more than one guy. But it’s not what I want for myself. The blissfully ordinary life I’ve always envisioned includes one man. One husband.
One.
This is all such a mess.
I’m still in the tub, the water rapidly cooling, when my doorbell rings.
How He Affects Me