Chapter 11

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***

Chapter 11

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Intimate, oak tables nestled in greenery. Fragrances of bread and coffee in the air. My student seated across, with forbidden lips and eyes you can drown in.

No words have been exchanged since Anna and Zhoe left. They had a 'birthday' they 'forgot' to be at. I wouldn't be surprised at all if they were actually hiding in the bushes, taking pictures to show at our future wedding.

The idea of having brunch with a student I've kissed, wearing yoga pants and a sports bra, makes me want to jam a butter knife into my head.

What's worse is that he's sitting there, smiling like it's no big deal. The situation makes me scoff and roll my eyes.

He teasingly copies me, exaggerating my movements. Does he think he's funny?

I sigh with annoyance, fidgeting with my ponytail.

He sighs louder, twirling his big, dumb hand around an imaginery ponytail.

When he keeps going, unaware of the waiter holding our food with a questionable look, it almost makes me smile. But I stay strong.

The waiter sets down my mini pancakes with bananas and syrup. I push my fork into one, taking a bite of the golden cloud dusted with powdered sugar.

A farting sound erupts. I jerk my eyes up to see it's the sound of him draining a bottle of ketchup on hash brown. As if that's not enough, he's now mixing everything on the plate: egg yolk, bacon, potatoes, more ketchup...there goes a bit of pancake too.

When he catches me gaping, his eyes glint with mischief. He takes another bite, keeps his eyes on me, and releases the most inappropriate, obnoxious moan ever heard in public.

People at the nearby tables turn to us, thinking it's me. And that's when I lose it.

"You're so ridiculous!" I laugh, covering my face.

"Got you laughing, though." He smiles, satisfied with himself.

I shake my head. "God... what's your deal, anyway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you doing this?" I ask softly, studying him. "Do you have some sort of a professor fetish or something?"

"Oh yeah. I want to be bent over and spanked with a ruler."

I snort, rolling my eyes. "Nothing wrong with that. Fantasies are quite healthy. Just don't think you can project them on me."

"You seem to know a lot about them. Do you help patients with fantasies?"

I narrow my eyes at his question. Usually people ask for the sake of gossip or to have a dirty conversation. But Jake's eyes seem genuine.

"Why do you ask?" I drawl.

He furrows his eyebrows with amusement. "How often do you think I get the chance to talk to a psychologist? It's interesting."

"Really?"

He looks around like he's missing something. "Yeah? Why are you so confused?"

The realization that no one has ever been interested in my profession sinks in, tugging my corners with self-pity. I push the thoughts away.

"Well, I can't talk about clients. It's confidential." I say gently.

"Alright, then give me your professional opinion on the topic," he persists.

We look at each other for a moment. Both stubborn and reluctant to budge.

"Give me yours first." I tilt my head, biting my lip self-consciously.

He shrugs and leans back in his seat. He glances away in thought. I take the moment to study how attractive he is.

"I think some people need fantasies." He looks back, nodding a bit. "I don't understand or know a lot about them, but I think they're normal."

"Hm..." I take a bite of my pancake, stalling. He deadpans at me, knowing.

"Fine, fine." I smile and lean forward, resting my hands under my chin. "The way I see it... fantasies fulfill emotional voids. Whether it's to be the center of attention, lose control, gain power, feel desired, and so on."

"What about the odd ones? The ones that are extreme?" He asks with piercing attentiveness.

"I'm scared to ask what you mean."

"I won't go too far, but... okay, say for example masochism. What emotional void does feeling pain fulfill?"

I squirm with excitement, having read so many articles about the topic.

"It's so interesting, actually. Just know that studies on these topics are still very new. Sexual deviance was considered a disorder not so long ago."

I chew on a banana slice before continuing. "But, masochism can put the person into a trance-like state. For people who suffer with a racing mind and can't stay present, extreme physical stimulation is a great source of release."

"Like choking, spanking, hair pulling?" Jake asks, his expression unreadable.

Risky visuals nudge their way in my head but I karate kick them in the face.

"Mhm. Like the high that athletes get when they push their bodies to the limit."

Jake runs his hand over his jaw and hums quietly. The action and sound are so masculine, it makes me forget for a moment who I'm talking to.

He seems to notice me staring, because the corners of his lips pull up as he gazes at me.

"Why'd you choose to go into Psychology?" he asks.

"Reasons." I respond quietly, sobering up.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He contemplates his next words, eyes focusing on me.

"Let's just say... it doesn't seem like you've had an easy life."

I bite my lip anxiously and shrug. "No one has."

"Are you minimizing?" He raises his eyebrows, smiling a little.

I smile back. "Someone's been reading the course material."

He chuckles softly. "I have a professor who's got my full attention."

"She sounds incredible."

"She is," he murmurs, looking at me.

My heart beats faster. I'm locked in his gaze and can't speak.

"She's also very sassy." He changes the mood, making me chuckle. "Drives me insane with her jokes and attitude."

"I believe it's called having wit. You should try it sometime."

"How can I? I'm Persian-Armenian." He deadpans sarcastically. "I'm a dead fish who speaks like a sloth and eats food that tastes like vomit."

I throw my head back and laugh. "God, I'm so funny."

"Cocky little bastard." His grumbling is softened by a smile and a playful glare.

"Don't act like you don't like it."

"I don't like it." He says with a flat face, making me laugh again. "It's abusive. I'd find a therapist, but I don't trust them. I know one, and she's mean."

"Aw, poor baby."

He scoffs under his breath and resumes finishing his food.

"By the way," I say, "I'm taking care of the bill. Consider it a thank you for everything you've done."

"Nope."

"Hm?"

He scowls at me under his lashes. "You're not paying."

I return the expression. "Excuse me?"

"First, I did those things because I wanted to. You don't owe me anything. And second." He smirks crookedly. "You're not paying because I said so."

"That's cute." I raise an unimpressed eyebrow at his macho performance and smile.

His expression turns serious when I stand up and go inside the restaurant. I find our waitress, pay for our bill, and strut back to my seat.

He doesn't say a word and I relish the victory as I take my time to drink water, sigh, then finally look at him.

"You were saying?" I feign innocence at his serious face.

He drops his fork on his plate. The sound of metal hitting the porcelain cuts the tense silence, causing me to flinch.

Keeping his eyes on me, Jake reaches his arm and grips the leg of my chair. In one swift motion, my chair is jerked toward him on the rough pavement.

I gasp as he dips his head over my shoulder, lips on the shell of my ear.

"You know what's cute? You acting bratty and thinking it'll piss me off, when it just makes me want to tame you."

I'm hot head to toe, breathing heavy. "Keep dreaming..."

"I have been."

Panic and dread intrude like unwelcome guests. Images of me getting caught. Dr. Dennis telling me I'm fired. A cardboard box as I pack up my office. Students and faculty, unwilling to look at me. Alone. Ruined. Crying.

"I can't do this."

I get up and rush for the exit. This was way too close. I'm losing control. How did we slip into flirting?

I rush to the parking lot and tear through my hair, trying to calm my breathing.

"Mia, I'm sorry. I went too far." Jake catches up behind me.

I cross my arms protectively. "No, I let things escalate. It's my fault."

"It's not. We got attracted to each other before we knew about it. Our feelings have nothing to do with your class."

"Doesn't matter Jake. We have to keep it professional. I have to keep it professional." And I'm failing.

His eyes strain with nothing but concern. "Alright, just let me take you home, okay?"

I look away. "There's really no need—"

"I won't say a word. I'll feel like shit if you get in an Uber right now."

I rub my forehead in defeat. "Alright."

~

Soft music fills the silence. Jake stares ahead, lost in his thoughts. My shoulders slump with guilt. Why did I agree to brunch? I'm such a hypocrite.

"I'm sorry." I blurt, looking ahead at the road. "I know I act like this confident person who has it all together, but it's a facade."

"None of us have it together, we all figure it out as we go." He glances at me. "And you don't have to fake anything with me."

God, how is this guy always saying the right things? Why is he so perfect?

"Jake, just what exactly do you want from me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He smirks. "I want an A."

I snort. "Of course."

~

Half an hour passes with laughter and conversations until he parks on my street. We get on the sidewalk as he walks me to my apartment.

Jake grabs my waist to switch our positions so that he's the one on the curbside. I give him a questioning look but he doesn't seem to notice.

"Well, I hope you had fun today." He says when we stop in front of my apartment.

"Unfortunately, I did." I smile, unlocking the door. "I always thought the scar under your eyebrow was from a badass fight. I'd never think it's from being a clumsy toddler."

He rolls his eyes. "Glad it made you laugh so much."

"Happens a lot when I'm with you." I blurt as I turn around.

I am just such a moron.

I know I messed up when surprise paints his face only to be replaced with something darker. Something...more determined.

Eyes on mine, he grabs the back of my neck, pushes me inside, and locks the door. I open my mouth to say something but he cups my face in both hands and kisses me. His hips pin me against the wall, and my knees start to buckle.

Starved lips possess mine, driving them apart, taking every breathless whimper with demand and urgency. I grasp onto his shoulders, fisting his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

Logic attempts to break through the haze.

"Jake...we really...shouldn't be...doing this."

He tilts my chin and leaves a string of hot kisses down my neck. "Want me to stop?"

"Please..."

"Tell me you don't want it." He catches my lips again. My head hits the wall, making me moan. "Cause I've been waiting to kiss you again," he murmurs mid-kiss. "since the night you ran away from me."

"I don't want it." I breathe as his stubble scratches my chin and his tongue teases.

He looks up at me under his lashes, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Is that right?"

I try to nod, but I moan instead. My eyes are hooded and lips parted. And I want him. I want to forget who we are and what's right. I just want him.

But I can't. I can't do it. I can't do it.

"You need to leave." My voice shakes as I push him back.

"Really?" His swollen lips open with surprise.

"Yeah, get out." I open the door, "thanks for...uh, study for your midterm, bye."

I kick him out and lock the door, sliding down on the floor.

I am so fucked.





~~~ A/N ~~~

What did you think about Mia's perspective on sexual fantasies? Interesting? Insightful? Do you have your own theories?

Do you think Mia is making any progress with letting Jake in her heart? How long until she lets him in?

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