Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance Page 8

  “Interesting is a good term to use to describe these. If you ever want to see your professor’s drunk, it’s a good time to come.”

  “Drunk? Really?”

  “Yeah, most of them. We definitely over-imbibe on potluck night. Well, Sam and I usually do, but he won’t be there for it, and he won’t be there to help me plan it or set up for it.”

  “Oh…”

  “He needs to be with Jeremy—perfectly reasonable excuse in my book.”

  “It is, but it still sucks.”

  “That it does,” Meredith said and glanced down at her feet.

  Ainsley scraped her lower lip with her teeth and rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. She looked around the office, noting there were not family pictures here. There were tons in Meredith’s home, but here there were none. Only one picture with her and Sam, and another with her, Sam and another man Ainsley could only assume was Jeremy. It looked like they were in China.

  Letting out a breath, Ainsley shook her head and went for it. “I’ll help you set up, if you want. It won’t take too much time, I’m sure.”

  Meredith’s eyes lit up, and Ainsley’s stomach warmed. Whatever she had done to make Meredith happy, she knew she had to do it again. Meredith’s glasses magnified her eyes as they sat atop her nose, and Ainsley wanted to pull them off slowly before pressing their lips together. She swallowed down the thought and tried to shove it away. Ever since spending the second night in Meredith’s home, thoughts like that had been popping up whenever she thought of or saw Meredith—especially in class when Meredith donned her professor’s mask.

  She was sexier than hell when she was in charge. Ainsley had been right about one thing, Meredith was fiercely independent and always in control, well, most of the time she was in control. Ainsley had just managed to catch her the few times she wasn’t. Ainsley looked up at Meredith when the thought popped in her head that perhaps Meredith was letting her see her weaker side. The thought warmed in her belly.

  “I don’t know,” Meredith answered. “You can’t go out and buy the wine for me.”

  Ainsley laughed. “No, I can’t. Give me until the end of the month.”

  “Your birthday?”

  “All hallows eve.”

  “Fitting.”

  “What’s that mean?” Ainsley teased. She leaned back in her chair and held her gaze with Meredith’s.

  “It just seems fitting. You’re not quite the most normal college students around.”

  Ainsley grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Please do.”

  Ainsley wanted to jump out of her chair, push Meredith’s chair back and kiss her senseless. She imagined Meredith would resist for only a brief second before giving in and succumbing to what they both knew would happen. The door was shut—no one would see.

  God, I could even take her here if I wanted. It would be so hot. Ainsley shuddered as the image swam around her mind, and her cheeks flushed when she looked back up at Meredith, whose blue-green eyes were locked on hers. Heat speared through Ainsley’s body, only fueling her desire to get up and kiss Meredith.

  “Ainsley—” Meredith’s voice broke. “We can’t.”

  “I know,” Ainsley answered, the mood shifting from heated to heavy. “I’m well aware.”

  “Good. I—I think it might be best for you to leave now.”

  Meredith’s chest was rising and falling rapidly. Ainsley’s gaze dropped down to her breasts pushing against her shirt, the material clinging. Her own chest increased in rapid movements as she licked her lips. She closed her eyes and swallowed, taking a deep breath. She had to calm down—this was doing nothing for either of them. She should be embarrassed at being caught thinking about it, about being told off.

  Ainsley looked up, once again locking gazes with Meredith. If Meredith had caught her, perhaps she was thinking the same thing. Ainsley grinned and cocked her head to the side. She could do something similar to what she had done before, make a move without making a move but showing how forward she could be. But she’d already done the leaning over the chair thing. Ainsley kept staring at Meredith, watching every tiny change in her professor’s body.

  She wanted to touch Meredith, and she had a feeling Meredith felt the same way. Instead, Ainsley grabbed her backpack and stood up. She licked her lips and gave Meredith a simmering stare. She wanted Meredith to feel exactly what she was feeling.

  “I’ll see you Friday then.”

  “Thursday—for class,” Meredith answered, her voice rough.

  Ainsley grinned, glad she had made an effect. She lowered her voice. “Thursday for class, and Friday for far more casual reasons.”

  Meredith made a noise in the back of her throat, and Ainsley knew she had her then. She bit her lip and turned on her heel, leaving behind Meredith’s office and about as much sexual tension as she could handle without acting.

  #

  The Crossroads meeting that night was long and drawn out. Instead of just playing games like they normally did and having quick conversation, they had elections. Ainsley walked up to the Women’s Center with a heavy step, debating whether or not to skip the meeting. It wasn’t like she was going to get elected. Her name was on the ballot, but she wasn’t a senior and it was always a senior who was elected.

  The drapes were already drawn as she walked up the wooden steps. She opened the door and went right into the house, taking an immediate right to the living area. Couches and comfortable chairs were strewn about along with a few beanbags and pillows for those who wanted to sit closer to the ground or for those who came in late and were stuck on the floor.

  Adam flitted around the kitchen, which was just off the living room, setting out drinks and snacks. They would be there all night sometimes. Ainsley had often wondered exactly what type of permission they had to be in the center and how long their hours were supposed to be, but since no one ever questioned it, she ignored her worry.

  “Hey there,” she said. “Need help?”

  “God, yes,” Adam said. “Make up the lemonade, will you?”

  “No prob.” Ainsley stripped off her jacket and threw it over one of the chairs in the dining area. She moved to the sink and filled the pitcher with water. She’d often thought it was a bit odd that a building associated with the university would look so much like a house, but then it kind of made sense. It was a house at some point, and the school had bought it out and turned it into the Women’s Center. It was a place for women to come when they’d been attacked or needed counseling, and it was simply a support for assault victims.

  Of course, they did a whole lot more, like hosting Crossroads and fundraisers throughout the year, along with awareness campaigns. But a house seemed to suit the Women’s Center better than anything else. Crossroads had been allowed to use the space because they were a black listed group on campus. Due to their rule of secrecy and anonymity, they refused to sign the paper work to become an actual campus affiliated group. There were no petitions or sign in sheets that the members were going to sign.

  In fact, the only way people heard about Crossroads was through word of mouth and being on the “in” crowd. Ainsley had issue with that because she was convinced they were missing a larger number of LGBT students who could certainly use the support and community, but going public wasn’t something the group was interested in doing.

  She mixed up the lemonade and set it on the counter next to the glasses. Grabbing a plate from the cabinet, she helped Adam to set out the rest of the cookies. They both heard the door open and close a couple of times, knowing people were arriving faster than they could set up. She should have gotten there earlier to help.

  Ainsley brought in two bowls of chips and set them on the coffee table in the center of the room. Adam went to the office and copied the election sheets.

  Sitting down on the comfiest couch in the room, Ainsley popped a few chips into her mouth and smiled at the two others who were already there. Soon enough, the room would be bustling with pe
ople. They made idle conversation until Adam came back and took the show. Ainsley was glad he was there to do it because her mind was as far away as possible. It was stuck on her English professor in heels, slacks and a tight, tight shirt.

  “Ainsley—” Adam said, his voice harsh.

  She looked up suddenly, blushing and hoping no one in the room could read her mind. “What?”

  “Help me hand these out, will you?” He handed her a stack of papers, and when she looked around the room, it was filled with Crossroads members. She’d been lost in her fantasy far longer than she had originally thought.

  “Uh…yeah.” She took them and handed them out while Adam followed her with pens. There were three positions to fill each year, so the sheets were cut in half. Ainsley handed out over thirty ballots between the living room and the dining room, surprised there were so many people there. Usually there were only ten to fifteen, but word must have gotten out in the last few weeks.

  There was silence as Adam explained the rules of the election. “You may only mark an answer once. If you want to do a write in, feel free, but unless it’s pre-planned there’s not much point to it. Make sure you vote for each position. Then fold your paper in half and set it in the wicker basket on the coffee table. Jake will count them when everyone is done because he’s not on the ballot. Any questions?”

  When there was no answer, Adam put his hands out.

  “Then vote!”

  Everyone filled out their ballots quickly, and Jake was counting while the rest of the games began. Once he was done, he would announce the winner and they would have a party for the rest of the night. If the loser really wanted the position, then usually they would slink away early, but Ainsley didn’t want to be president or co-president or anything to do with the leadership of the group. She had a different vision for them than they had.

  Adam plopped down on the couch next to Ainsley with a cup of soda in his hand. He leaned in and kissed her cheek loudly. Ainsley brushed her hand over the slobber he’d left on her skin. “That’s gross.”

  “You love it and you know it.”

  “Right. Hey! When are we meeting up for the parade?”

  Adam cleared his throat and stood up, shouting over the people in the room. “Listen up, y’all. The Pride Parade is this coming weekend! We’ve been planning for it all summer and into this year. We need people to walk with us in it, and we need people to pass out paraphernalia.”

  “We got condoms this year!” Ainsley shouted, eliciting a giggling from half the group there. “Condoms and penis pops.”

  “Nice!” someone said, but Ainsley couldn’t tell who.

  Adam continued, “Anyway. We need to represent! So all who can be there, please be there. We’re meeting at nine in the morning. We’re the twenty-third place in the parade, so we’ll be meeting on Foster and 29th street. The parade lasts a good five miles, so please oh please wear shoes you want to walk in. I don’t want to be carrying any drag queens this year.”

  Another round of giggles prompted Adam to continue.

  “So far we have about ten people coming. It would be great if most people in this room tonight could come and represent our group. Let’s show them who we are!”

  Ainsley snickered and drank at her own lemonade. Nine in the morning was early for any college student on a Saturday. He was asking them to be there almost two hours before the parade started. She, of course, would be there even earlier to help Adam set up and bring in the banners and such. She wished briefly that they wouldn’t end up behind the horses again that year.

  Adam sat back down after he finished talking, and Jake came in with the voting results.

  “Are you ready for this?” When he got affirmative nods, he said, “Adam Lansing is President. Rebecca Alcroft is VP. And… drum roll please… Owen Granger is Treasurer.”

  Everyone clapped and cheered and congratulated the winners of the election. Ainsley didn’t get a chance to tell Adam how proud she was he had won, but she knew it was coming. He had been voted on the previous spring to plan the Pride Parade, and that was generally a good indication he would be winning the election for president. The tradition had carried on since before she had come to the university.

  People were leaving by the time she got a moment to clap him on the shoulder and grin up at him. “Mr. President,” she said.

  “Stop it,” he said back, giggling. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I actually like it. Maybe I’ll make Cody call me that in bed tonight.”

  Ainsley groaned when he wiggled his eyebrows. It was an image she didn’t want in her head. She spent the next hour cleaning up the Women’s Center, doing dishes and putting everything away. Adam and Jake had stayed to help while the rest of their Crossroads crew had left the disaster for the warmth of their beds or the bed of another.

  Ainsley was exhausted by the time she made it back to her house. Crawling into her pajamas and then falling into her bed, Ainsley pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. Thoughts of Meredith flitted through her mind, and she fell asleep to the image of the blush spreading across Meredith’s cheeks as she sat in her chair at her desk.

  Chapter Nine

  Ainsley had the phone pressed to her ear as she cleaned and mopped her kitchen floor. Adam was on the other line, rambling something sexual off he and Cody did and trying to convey the positions to Ainsley and why it was so fantastic. She’d had the phone on speaker while she worked until this part of the conversation had come up. She hadn’t thought her roommates would like to walk into the house to hear something like that.

  She scrubbed the floor, her arms working overtime to get something sticky off the linoleum, something she had certainly not spilled. Groaning, Ainsley plopped the mop back into the bucket, barely listening to Adam as he rambled on. She strained the excess water out and stuck it back down on the ground, scrubbing again.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” he asked.

  Ainsley stood up and wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. She blinked and then scrunched her nose at his rapid change of conversation. “I’m going to the Parade.”

  “I meant Friday. What are you doing Friday?”

  “Well, you should have been more specific,” she answered and went back to scrubbing the floor, the phone pressed tightly between her shoulder and cheek. She debated for a brief moment about putting it back on speaker but decided since Adam was known for turning conversations sexual it wouldn’t be a good idea until she reached her room and could shut the door.

  She just about had that one sticky spot cleaned and was going back to the bucket for more water when he repeated his question. Ainsley rolled her eyes, hoping she wouldn’t have to tell him—he would think it was totally lame.

  “I’m going to a potluck.”

  “A what? Like at a church?”

  “No, not like at a church. Like with the English department.”

  “You’re going to a potluck with the English department? You humanities people are so weird.”

  “Sure, we are the weird ones,” she muttered into the phone and finished off the one bad spot in the kitchen. She cleaned the rest of the floor in a flourish and had the mop set to the side of the fridge to dry. “Why can’t they just clean up after themselves? I mean really, it’s not that hard.”

  “Ainsley?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Forget the cleaning. You’re going to a potluck with the Hot One.”

  Ainsley snorted. He had given Meredith that nickname after she’d confessed her crush to avoid saying her name out loud in public. At least that’s what he claimed. Ainsley had an idea it had more to do with the way he said it and that it brought more attention to the matter at hand than just using a name would. If anything, Adam was an attention whore.

  “Yes, with the Hot One. She’s hosting.”

  “She’s hosting? So you’re going to her house, with an invitation this time… smexxy.”

  “Adam. Really. Do you have to be so…so…”
<
br />   “Adorable?”

  “Right, that’s the word I was thinking of.”

  He laughed into her ear as she wrung out a sponge and rubbed circles into the counter she had cleaned off earlier. Her bare feet stuck to the wet floor, making it slippery. She grimaced and chided herself, cleaning the floor last would have been the smart thing to do.

  “Are you—how do I put this—are you still wanting to fuck her every time you see her?”

  Ainsley’s cheeks burned. She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes briefly, embarrassment running her over several times before she could finally answer him. “Yes.”

  “I have a suggestion.”

  “One that doesn’t involve a hooker or a one-night stand?”

  “Yes. What would make you think I would suggest hooker?”

  “I know you.”

  He snorted, and she moved to the next counter. Ainsley was almost through with the kitchen and seriously debating setting up a cleaning schedule with her two roommates so she wouldn’t be the one stuck cleaning whenever it got so nasty she hardly dared enter the kitchen in the first place. Perhaps the show of good will and cleaning it without being asked would help her case in suggesting a schedule.

  “Masturbate.”

  Ainsley choked. She coughed and sputtered and set the sponge on the counter, taking in a deep breath. Had he really just said that? She let out a breath. “You want me to do what?”

  “Come on, it’s not a bad thing to do it. And it’ll help get rid of the tension, at least some of it, hopefully, and I just think you need it. I mean, let’s be honest here since we’re on the topic. When was the last time—”

  “I’m not answering that.”

  “That long, huh?”

  “Adam,” she whined. “I’m not some virgin. I’m not some prude. But…well…ugh. Maybe it is a good idea.”

  “See?” He was smiling; she knew he would be smiling because she had just completely run out of excuses not to agree with him. There really weren’t any. It was a good idea all around, and if it did help ease the tension, then it would be a definite bonus.