Before You Go Read online

  He forced out a humorless laugh. "Man, you should have seen the admissions lady that met with me. She wouldn't even look me in the eye. All the other seniors got notes taken down while they were talking. That lady just stared off into space until time was up. They weren't even willing to consider me."

  It was some fucked up shit, but it didn't surprise me in the least. Ricky Gomez wasn't popular on campus. Even so, that never should have been held against his kid. Laurel and I were struggling to come up with an answer for why he wasn't on any of the lists the university kept about likely prospective students. It looked like I got our answer.

  "Is Kelley somewhere you would want to go?"

  "Honestly?" He stared at the sculpture next to him, one of his that was going to the showcase. "It would be nice to not have to be far from my mom. She won't admit it, but she gets lonely. She comes home after a long shift at the hospital—she's a nurse—and my dad is usually already gone to the bar. A lot of times it's just the two of us. If I left…" He let out another deep sigh, the reality of his burden weighing him down.

  "Hmm."

  I didn't open my mouth for fear that too big of a promise would slip out. There was no way in hell I would avoid going to bat for the kid, not after hearing his concerns. I'd do what I could at the university, but I didn't want to tell him that for fear that it wouldn't change anything. I was well-liked on campus, but there was only so much that was within my power to do for him. I would sure as hell try, though.

  No longer hearing movement beside me, I discovered Zack distracted by a painting. "What's that?" I asked.

  His whole face went red. "Nothing," he mumbled.

  Eyeing him skeptically, I stepped over and pulled the painting gently from his grasp. It was a painting of a girl, not quite the caliber of some of the art we selected for the show but striking nonetheless. The petite blonde was staring upwards, almost as if she was in the middle of rolling her eyes.

  "You know her?"

  He grabbed the painting back from me and slid it out of the way. "We used to be neighbors." It was obvious from his embarrassment that there was more to the story.

  "Maybe you could invite her to the show," I suggested.

  "Like a date?" He scoffed.

  I shrugged. It wasn't the craziest idea in the world. An art show centered around a love theme was about as romantic as a person could get in Kelley, New York. At least as far as I was concerned.

  He mumbled under his breath a little before he finally said, "Yeah, maybe."

  After that, we fell into a companionable silence as we sifted through the artwork. Eventually, Ms. Bell joined us. Zack had been right, not a single person in the building wanted to spend their free time doing us a favor. I thought of Laurel, working her ass off to save a program she had no personal connection to. She was really something, and for about the thousandth time I felt like an absolute ass for ever letting her go.

  Laurel

  "Let's just say I could think of better ways to earn my grades from Professor Gilmore."

  The other two girls dissolved into quiet laughter over their friend's suggestive tone. Freshmen, I'd already worked out for myself. I recognized a lot of the material Isaac was covering, despite having taken the course four years earlier. I didn't think the trio in front of me would be able to say the same in four years, considering they spent more time swapping fantasies than taking notes.

  Waking up that morning, I found myself compelled to wander over to the business building. I didn't really intend to sit in on Isaac's class until I found myself dropping into a seat in the back row. He didn't appear to notice me, so I sat quietly watching him as he lectured.

  "Damn," the blonde directly in front of me whispered when Isaac turned to jot down an important phrase on the whiteboard at the front of the room.

  I agreed with the sentiment. Isaac looked positively delicious from that angle. I didn't often find men's butts attractive, but his was admittedly well shaped. I bit my lip as I remembered how many times I'd seen him naked. The giggly trio would kill for that kind of view. I knew because they mentioned it no less than six times since I sat down.

  "What if he's gay?" the dark haired one on the end asked out of nowhere.

  Her question drew a snort of laughter from me. I smothered my face with the crook of my arm, but it was still just loud enough for the girls to hear. I sank down into my seat when all three twisted to stare at me.

  "Stop eavesdropping," the blonde one hissed.

  "I could if you'd stop talking so loud," I countered, batting my eyelashes in a way that made the girl roll her eyes.

  Mean girls didn't really get to me. One of the perks of being known as an obsessive control freak was that girls didn't really wanna bother messing around with you. They tended to steer clear of me more than I did of them.

  The guy next to me leaned close and whispered, "Thanks. They were getting on my last fucking nerve."

  My lips curved into a smile as I watched him shove his glasses further up his nose. They were big black frames, the hipster kind. And in spite of his words, I didn't miss the way he kept glancing at the dark haired girl in front of us.

  "Catch her alone," I suggested quietly.

  "Huh?" His eyes widened like me speaking to him startled him. Poor guy.

  "Catch her alone," I repeated, keeping my voice low. "The two blondes are ripped straight from a bad teen movie, but the brunette is making the effort to listen when her friends aren't distracting her. If you want a real shot at talking to her, your best bet is catching her when the other two aren't around."

  He studied me hard, maybe trying to determine whether or not I was genuine. "Thanks." He glanced down at the empty desk in front of me. "Hey, do you need a copy of my notes?"

  "No, thank you."

  "Are you sure? Everyone says the class notes are really important in here."

  "They are," I confirmed. Seeing him still eyeing me with skepticism, I reassured him, "Seriously, I'm good. Thank you, though."

  "It's your funeral," he muttered.

  That time I managed to hold in my laugh. Being mistaken for a freshman never happened to me until I stopped dressing like a businesswoman all the time. It was interesting how a change in wardrobe could completely morph the way other people regarded me. Maybe if I wore jeans when I was working in the tutoring center everyone wouldn't have looked at me like some kind of evil dictator.

  To be fair, I had kind of liked that.

  Recognizing that class was nearly over, I decided to bail before Isaac noticed me. I whispered apologies as I shimmied past several students blocking me from the aisle. I kept quiet so I wouldn't draw more attention, but the classroom fell quiet. I could practically feel the dozens of eyes as they suddenly turned to stare at me. In particular, the girls sitting in front of my vacated seat leveled me with pretty heavy glares.

  "Laurel," Isaac called out to me, stopping me before I could make my big escape. "Nice of you to join us. Learn anything new?"

  "Oh, I learned plenty." I smirked at the haughty trio as they stared at me, their mouths falling open. I winked at them, stoking their sudden panic. "Nothing I care to share, though."

  Their collective exhale drew eyes from several rows around us. Confident that Isaac seemed finished with his regular lesson, I stepped out of the back row and meandered my way down the steps to him. There was no use hiding my grin since he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was blatantly checking me out as I approached.

  He quirked an eyebrow. "Inside joke?" he asked, nodding up towards the girls who found themselves shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

  "Apparently, they have a lot of ideas about how to reward you for being such a great teacher." I let out a light laugh just thinking about some of the depraved things they'd come up with during his lecture

  "Yeah?" His voice dropped low into a sexy tease. "I have a feeling the rewards they have in mind couldn't compare to the one I'd actually like." His eyes trailed over the length of my body again, set
ting a trail of fire blazing through my core.

  There was something incredibly sexy about him making such a suggestive comment while we were saddled with a captive audience. I doubted anyone actually heard his words, but there was no way his class missed the heated way he stared at me.

  Over the weeks, the bad feelings I harbored towards him had noticeably cooled. Everything he touched with my fundraiser seemed to turn to gold. He never complained about even the most mundane tasks. He was considerate and doting. All the things we lacked before when we were sleeping together. Slowly, he managed to carve out a space for himself again in my life. But unlike before, that space wasn't compartmentalized to the bedroom.

  "Uh, Professor?" Isaac's eyes sought out the speaker from the crowd. "Are we dismissed or…?"

  Several of the guy's classmates started to voice their displeasure with him for interrupting the little show Isaac and I were putting on. I knew from experience that it wasn't often professor's personal lives waltzed right into the classroom. Our exchange would probably be gossip fodder for weeks, if not longer.

  Isaac wasn't fazed by the attention. "Oh, you all are still here?" he joked.

  Raucous laughter spread through the lecture hall. It was easy to see why Isaac was a campus favorite. He wasn't just fun, he was a great teacher, too. The only reason I took only one class with him during my undergrad was because I was so attracted to him from the onset. Spending another semester drooling over him seemed like a bad idea. I was glad, too, because sleeping with a former professor was enough scandal for me.

  "Okay, okay. You all are free to go." Amusement twisted his lips as most of his students took their sweet time packing up. Highly suspect, considering how quickly students usually darted out of class.

  "I had no idea when I showed up here that I'd end up being such a crowd pleaser," I joked. Still, some of the students were lingering far longer than necessary.

  Isaac's attention wasn't on them any longer. "If I realized you were here sooner I could have really upped the ante." A genuine smile graced his mouth, a full row of straight, white teeth peeking between his lips. "Did you need me for something?"

  I didn't, not really, but it seemed weird to admit I sought him out for no good reason. A different idea struck me, something that wasn't yet a fully formed plan in my brain. I went with it anyway.

  "What do you think about taking a trip?" I asked, adding, "With me," in case that part wasn't clear.

  "A trip? Sounds intriguing."

  He flashed bedroom eyes at me that I tried to ignore. I swallowed—hard. "Yeah. There's an art show in the city tonight. I was thinking we could crash it, see if maybe we can sweet talk the artist into attending our show? None of the art students will care much about the people coming to write checks. I thought it might be nice if we recruited some real, working artists for them to mingle with."

  "So, a working trip, then?" I was certain I didn't imagine the quick flash of irritation that crossed over his face.

  Don't do it, Laurel.

  Don't even think about it.

  "You need to learn to lead with your head, Laurel. No good comes from being guided by the heart."

  The echo of my father's words in my head was enough to spur me forward. "We could get a hotel room and stay the night."

  "A hotel room?" New York City wasn't quite far enough away to warrant the expense, not really.

  My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I was sure he must be hearing it. It wasn't too late to rescind the offer. Ivy would make the trip with me. Or Derek, even. Neither option seemed as appealing as rekindling my spark with Isaac. Gulping in a deep breath first, I sealed my fate.

  "I was thinking we'd get a room… together."

  Isaac

  While sitting in standstill traffic, I tried to recall a single thing Laurel and I talked about on the drive in. The only detail that seemed to keep coming to mind was that as soon as she got in the car, she laced in her hand in my mine. It was juvenile to be so fixated on that, but it felt unbelievably good to have her smooth skin against mine as we made the drive in my black Jeep.

  "I don't know how people live here," she sighed.

  "Really?" That confession surprised me. "I would think you would thrive in a place like this."

  She shrugged. "Maybe, but I wouldn't be happy. Living in the suburbs has its own flaws, but here in the city everyone just seems to look right through each other. Being anonymous doesn't exactly appeal to me."

  "I can't imagine you'd be anonymous anywhere." I gave her palm a quick squeeze.

  "What about you? Does the big city beckon?"

  It was a good question, one that made me really consider my answer. Kelley was only a short drive away from NYC, but with enough distance that it felt like a relatively small college town. In comparison, I grew up in a pretty rundown town still plagued by the loss of its booming motor industry. That town was even smaller.

  "Nah." I made a point to catch her eye. "I have to say the suburbs don't sound all that bad."

  "I guess you don't plan to stay at Kelley long term then, huh?" Her eyes scanned my face as if my answer might be written right there across my forehead.

  I felt guilty knowing I still hadn't answered CMSU. I quickly dismissed the notion of telling Laurel about the offer. Something was clearly developing between us again, but it still seemed premature to bring up something of that magnitude. Besides, I still didn't know if I even wanted the job. Moving would mean giving up my house, my friends, and a team of colleagues that I genuinely liked. Moving also meant risking the fragile bond developing between Laurel and I. I still wasn't ready to make a decision. Or tell her about it.

  "I do think I would like to teach somewhere bigger. When the timing is right, of course."

  "You're popular with the students. The staff, too, I've gathered. When you're ready, I bet you'll have no trouble finding another job."

  "What about you? I can't imagine you're planning to stay at Kelley forever."

  She blew out a sigh. "I don't know, honestly. Ivy thinks maybe I should go back to school and get my master's degree. It would definitely open my options up if I did that. I've also considered finding a similar job and jumping straight to work—" she paused— "or taking the job Henrik Wade keeps offering me, maybe."

  I tapped the brake harder than I meant to. "He offered you a job?"

  "Yeah," she answered carefully, "In his marketing department."

  Laurel belonged in a job like that. She didn't sound too sold on the idea, but it made me twice as convinced I shouldn't mention my job offer yet. The last thing I wanted was to affect her making a choice like that. Wasn't that some kind of fundamental rule about relationships? Don't risk giving your significant other debilitating regrets.

  "There it is." Laurel dropped my hand to point out the gallery building on our right.

  Flicking my turn signal, I pulled into the nearest parking garage. I could feel her giddy excitement as we got out from the car and walked out to the street to get to to the gallery. The small brick building was squished between a mortgage company and a bar.

  Interesting neighborhood.

  Laurel reached for my hand again as we entered the building, clasping our fingers together as she maneuvered us through the small crowd. Considering the area of the city we were in, I was surprised to see a number of people dressed in expensive formal wear. Not that any of them held a candle to Laurel's own dark purple cocktail dress.

  "The neighborhood is gentrifying. All the big money people suddenly think this is the place to hang out," Laurel whispered. I stared at her until she asked, "What?"

  "Sorry, it's just not often I hear someone bring up gentrification."

  "Ivy really likes making me watch Boyz n the Hood," she explained.

  "The 90s movie?

  Her answering nod was solemn. That explained that, then.

  "Where's our artist?"

  She bit her lip, rising up on her toes to see over the people. "Back corner. Looking more than a
little put off by a handsy housewife, I might add."

  As Laurel dragged me closer, I studied the pair she was talking about. A tall woman in a red jumpsuit was being groped by a shorter woman in a sparkling silver dress. The woman in the silver dress wasn't even being discreet about feeling up the artist. I really didn't want to know how things escalated to that point. I tried to be polite and not stare.

  "Mellie!" Laurel called the artist's name with a false sense of familiarity.

  The other woman reluctantly let go of her. The groper turned, irritated by the distraction even as Mellie mouthed "Thank you."

  "You'll have to excuse me, Mrs. Palmer. I just want to pop over and have a quick, private chat with these dear friends of mine." Mellie stepped around the other woman, eyeing her like she half-expected the woman to protest or make another pass at her.

  "Can you believe that woman is married—and to a man, no less?" Mellie shook her head. "Thanks for the save. I was starting to think I was in a gnaw-my-own-arm-off sort of situation. Mellie Ross," she belatedly thought to introduce herself.

  "I'm Laurel Barrett and this is Isaac Gilmore. We're here from Kelley University."

  "Kelley? Sorry, I'm not sure I've ever heard of it."

  I explained, "It's in Kelley, New York, a couple hours from here. We're a smaller, private university. A lot of people have no idea it exists unless they stumble upon it."

  "And most people don't stumble upon it unless they're young computer hackers or their parents have an obscene amount of money," Laurel joked.

  Mellie threw her head back and laughed so loudly that it drew the attention of most of the people in the room. "Sorry, carry on!" she shouted.

  The woman set her sights solely on Laurel, her body turning so that I was no longer part of the conversation. I held back, content to let Laurel do her thing. Besides, it was incredibly amusing to watch the way Mellie expressed her interest in Laurel. A hand lightly touching her wrist, her head tilting as she hung on Laurel's every last word.

  "Better watch out," a gravelly voice joined me, "she'll steal your girl right out from under you, that one."