My chat screen lit up with a message from Adam.

Nice job.

My “no messaging” in class rule had begun rapidly deteriorating. Law school had a way of making things slide. Caitlin hadn’t drunk caffeine until she came to law school, and now she was rarely seen without a can of Red Bull. Adam read less and less, and had stopped writing out case briefs altogether. Everyone was just trying to get by.

Thanks, I typed back.

Want to grab lunch later? he asked.

I’d been worried things would be awkward between us after I’d turned him down, but Adam was still cool. He, Caitlin, and I studied together and still hung out occasionally. I was just a lot more careful about not spending time alone with him or doing anything that would make him think I’d changed my mind.

He was a great guy, and some girl would be really lucky to date him. It just wasn’t me.

Can’t. I have a pro bono meeting to finalize things for the middle school Thanksgiving.

With Professor Canter?

Just seeing his name did funny things to my stomach.

Yes.

Good luck with that.

*   *   *

I headed to Gray’s office, anticipation filling me, preparing to face him for the first time since our encounter on Halloween.

I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time getting dressed this morning. I’d thought about wearing my hair in a ponytail considering his previous reactions, but that had almost seemed too obvious. I’d settled on leaving it down, long and straight, and spent more time on my makeup than usual.

Totally normal professor-student interaction.

D.C. was in the throes of fall, and I wore my favorite pair of dark brown cords, brown leather riding boots, and a camel-colored turtleneck sweater. On impulse, I’d added a faux fur vest Jackie had talked me into buying a few weeks ago. According to her, it was preppy chic. I worried it screamed, trying too hard, which could eventually be translated to, I want to bone my professor.

Clearly, I was a little paranoid. And nervous. Definitely, nervous.

It was the only break I had in my day, so we’d agreed to work for an hour while we ate, going over the final details for our upcoming 1L service project—a Thanksgiving meal for the eighth graders.

In hindsight, it was a lot to plan last minute, but it had become important to me. I loved the opportunity to get involved and spend time with the people we were trying to help. And I’d always had a soft spot for kids. And holidays.

Law school had a tendency to consume my thoughts and activities, so it was nice to have a break, to find an outlet that made me feel like I was making a difference and doing good. Right now the service project was keeping me sane.

I’d stopped at the downstairs cafe after my contracts class and bought a brownie, salad, and bottled water. On impulse, I’d snagged a brownie for Gray as well. I felt kind of stupid bringing him baked goods, and at the same time couldn’t quite resist. Kate had always said I’d mothered her—maybe it was an older sister thing—but for whatever reason, I liked taking care of people.

And despite what he said, Graydon Canter needed someone to take care of him.

I stood in front of his office, raising my fist to knock on the closed door. I was more nervous than I cared to admit, not sure if things were even okay between us. We’d only spoken through our school emails, so I had no clue if he was angry with the way I’d left things between us when I’d walked away from him at the carnival, or if he was upset about the jabs I’d thrown.

Maybe the brownie was a peace offering. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing anymore.

The door swung open. I froze.

Professor Larson stood on the other side, a smile on her face that years of feminine intuition immediately recognized and did not like. A sinking feeling filled me.

I didn’t know much about her, but thanks to the guys who crushed on her, I knew she didn’t wear a wedding band, and according to gossip, was single.

By the look in her eyes, she was trying to change that.

She smiled at me. “Ms. Reynolds.”

I tried to smile back, my heart pounding, a million emotions hitting me at once. Because Gray and I had kissed, because of everything, I was acutely aware of how inappropriate our relationship really was. We’d been pretty good at keeping it away from the law school, but in that moment, I feared there was something in my face and eyes, something like I saw on her, that screamed how I really felt about Gray.

And because I felt the way I did, because I liked him more than I should, the sight of Professor Larson—smart, pencil-skirt-and-high-heel-wearing Professor Larson—standing in Gray’s office, wearing a smile that said she liked him, caused a pang in my chest.

I vaguely registered Gray’s presence standing behind her at his desk, but I couldn’t make my gaze shift to him, worried that if I did, everything would spill out.

“You did a great job in class today,” she said. “You’re really starting to get the material.”

Oh god. She was just being friendly and it was a totally nice, normal thing for a professor to say to a student. But it only highlighted the differences between us.

They were professors. They didn’t fumble in front of seventy-four of their peers. They knew who they were and what they were doing. Well, more than I did, at least. For the first time since I’d known Gray, I felt like a stupid kid playing at being an adult.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, ducking my head, unable to stand looking at her for another minute.

She was blonde, pretty, sophisticated. She had to be a couple years older than Gray, but I doubted he would care. Guys my age thought she was hot, why wouldn’t he? I wondered if he’d told her about his past, if she knew or cared. I wondered a lot of things I had no business wondering.

Fuck.

And then the pang in my chest got so much worse.

She turned back to smile at him. “Maybe we can do lunch another day, Gray.”

She’d come to have lunch with him. She called him Gray. Fuck.

I thought I said bye to her, wasn’t really sure over the roaring in my ears. I struggled to keep my composure, pushed the sick, sinking feeling out of my stomach. Tried to, at least. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was single. I was his student. We weren’t dating; we weren’t anything.

He hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet everything about this felt so fucking wrong. Despite the age difference, and his messy past, and the fact that I was his student, it felt like he was supposed to be with me.

I sat in one of the empty chairs across from his desk, busying myself with taking out my lunch, my fingers trembling. They brushed against the stupid extra brownie and a lump clogged my throat. What was wrong with me?

I didn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t, but I heard him get up from his desk and close the door before going back to sit across from me.

I took a breath, reached deep, pasted my campaign smile on my face, and focused on a point over his shoulder, next to his head.

“Blair.”

God, that voice. It washed over me, bathed me in heat, curled around, slipping inside, filling me with want and need.

It wasn’t his normal voice, not the one I heard him use around school. This one was husky, raw, and sent a chill down my spine. I’d heard it before—when he kissed me, when he held me—somehow that made it even worse.

“Blair, look at me.”

“I am.”

Lie.

“You’re not.”

Fuck.

I added campaign eyes to the campaign smile and met his gaze.

His stare pierced me, cutting through the pretense I clung to.

Gray

I’d spent days going over this moment in my mind, trying to mentally prepare for seeing her again. Clearly it hadn’t worked, because all it took was the sight of her pale face, her cheeks two splotches of red, and my heart ached.