Professor's Kiss_A Second Chance, Bully Romance. Read online

  I tried anyway. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to bring myself back to the music room where I was singing alone. I opened my mouth and my voice still came out muted.

  It didn’t work, of course.

  Asking me to pretend that Danny wasn’t here, watching me, listening to me, was like asking me to pretend that the sun didn’t exist when it was shining against my face, warming my skin and my soul.

  I sighed, keeping my eyes closed. “Got any other bright ideas?”

  There was a pause, a pause where I swear I could feel his gaze tracing my skin as if they were fingers.

  “Maybe, if we…sing together. Like we used to.” I swear I heard sadness in his voice.

  Memories gripped my mind, making my stomach tighten. I didn’t want to sing with him,

  “I don’t think that’ll work.”

  “Let’s just…try it.”

  He began to sing the opening verse to “Wonderful Tonight”.

  Suddenly I was back in that sterile hospital room, Danny perched on the edge of my bed, his shoulder brushing against mine. Our voices rising in harmony, his deep and full, mine clear and free.

  Everything dissolved except us.

  And our voices.

  And this feeling like our souls were connected.

  “It’s working,” Danny whispered in the pause between verses.

  That’s when I realised I had been singing, reality and my memories melding into one. I opened my eyes in shock and found that Danny was already staring at me, singing that line about how much he loved me.

  The truth crashed into me all at once. This wasn’t real. We weren’t kids anymore. And this Danny didn’t love me.

  Sadness welled up in me, tears stinging the backs of my eyes. My voice came out in a choke. I could not cry in front of him.

  I dropped the guitar into its stand and ran out of the soundproof booth, into the corridor. I sagged against the wall and pressed my face into my hands.

  Why did he have to affect me so much? Still.

  Time had healed none of these wounds. It’d only appeared that way.

  A door opened. Danny from the recording room.

  Adding to my tumbling emotions was a hot flash of embarrassment that he’d seen me fall apart.

  I felt him halt near my shoulder, his presence confusing me further.

  “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

  I nodded.

  Then shook my head. I was tired of hiding everything from him. I didn’t care anymore if he saw how much he hurt me.

  I raised my face from my hands, letting him see the evidence of my pain. “Why did it all fall apart between us, Danny?”

  I sensed his shock at my question.

  “We…” he began. He shuffled his weight from foot to foot.

  It is possible that he might be honest with me for once?

  I wiped the corners of my eyes and looked at him expectantly. I wanted to know. I had to know so I could move on.

  “We should get back to work,” he said. He turned on his heel and walked back into the recording studio.

  I felt my heart crack under this crushing feeling. I should have known better than to think I could get a straight answer from him.

  42

  ____________

  Danny

  “Why did it all fall apart between us, Danny?”

  Her question echoed in my head, reminding me of all my fucking failures as a human being. As a son.

  As a friend.

  As a man.

  As I always did, I pushed these thoughts aside. At least, I tried. This time, guilt’s ghost lingered, the heaviness of my failures like a chain around my shoulders. It seemed that the longer I spent time with Ailis, the less I could ignore them.

  Well, they would have to keep being ignored. No use in bringing it all up again.

  I was playing back the recording from earlier when Ailis entered the dim recording room several minutes later, her eyes glassy, sadness tugging down the corners of her lips, but otherwise composed.

  I wanted to grab her face in my hands and kiss the sorrow out of her.

  But I couldn’t.

  Correction: I shouldn’t.

  Not if I wanted to keep my distance. Lord knew, Ailis didn’t deserve my bullshit.

  Newsflash, Danny. Forcing her to work on your album with you is not keeping your distance.

  “I’ve ordered us food,” I said, batting aside my conscience. “You still like Lamb Madras, right? Indian-hot, not the pansy white-Irish ‘hot’.”

  She nodded, her eyes going wide. As if she couldn’t believe I remembered her favourite takeout.

  Yes, I fucking remembered. I remembered everything.

  Ailis’s stomach growled, even over the chords I was strumming.

  I stopped playing. “You hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “You didn’t eat your dinner earlier.”

  “Hospital food tastes like cardboard. I think dying might be worth it just to stop having to eat it.”

  I shot her a look. I hated when she joked about dying. It made me feel like I was trying to breathe around a knife in my heart.

  I set my guitar aside, pulled out my phone and opened up a delivery app. “Okay, your highness, what would you like to eat instead?”

  “Lamb Madras. Indian-hot, not the pansy white-Irish ‘hot’!”

  I raised an eyebrow at her.

  She shrugged. “What? You’ve got to say that or they won’t believe you.”

  “You want to have dinner together?” Ailis asked, snapping me out of my memory.

  “Don’t get excited. It’s not a fucking date.”

  No feckin’ way would I order takeout for a date with Ailis. A girl like her deserved a three-course meal at a nice restaurant, wine and all that fancy shite.

  I shoved my phone in my pocket. “It’s dinner time. I’m hungry.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not.” Her stomach betrayed her lie by letting out a loud growl right then.

  I rolled my eyes, then pointed at her. “Stay.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “I’m not a dog.”

  “Fine. But if you’re not here when I get back, I’m eating your Madras.”

  I left Ailis and headed to the college front gate to meet the delivery guy. When I got back, I led Ailis to one of the practice rooms up the corridor, as no food was allowed in the recording studio.

  We perched on the edge of the small stage, the containers of curry, rice and naan around us. I’d also ordered two mango lassies, one each.

  The takeout smelled damn good. It should. Konkan on Clanbrassil Street was, in my opinion, the best Indian this side of Dublin. Their Goan Fish curry was out of this world. It was difficult to find good international food in Ireland, unless you knew where to order. Seeing as I hadn’t cooked for myself the entire time I’d been in Dublin, I’d gotten to know the good local takeout joints.

  Ailis let out a moan at the first bite and my cock twitched.

  Fuck me. Was I really getting turned on by Lamb Madras?

  For a few minutes we ate in silence, my attention on the food. Mostly. I kept looking up out of the corner of my eye to watch her spoon her curry and rice into her mouth with her plastic fork, her tongue peeking out every so often to lick morsels from her lips.

  “Why did you give me that guitar?” she asked, breaking the silence.

  I paused. Then tried to hide it. Not before I spotted Ailis catching that tell.

  I chewed, then swallowed my bite of fish.

  “What guitar?” I tried to play cool.

  She raised her eyebrow. “Really? You’re going to deny it?”

  I shrugged as if to say, think what you want. I’m not admitting shit.

  She pursed her lips and chewed. That was her thoughtful look. It made me want to pin her down in her chair and demand to know every single thought.

  “A song for your thoughts,” I blurted out without thinking.

  She blinked.

  “A song
for your thoughts,” she said to me as she leaned into my side, head on my chest.

  Too many reminders of what we’d been. We both tore our eyes away, a silent promise not to bring it up.

  “I didn’t touch that guitar for six whole months after you gave it to me,” she said, breaking the silence.

  My eyes bugged out of my head. “You had a 1936-42 Martin D-42 guitar and you didn’t play it for six whole months? Did you really hate me that much you ignored my supposed gift?”

  “So you did give it to me.”

  “Supposed gift,” I pointed at out. I still hadn’t admitted anything.

  She pouted. “At first I was so terrified that I’d break it. Then I just didn’t feel good enough to even touch it. I didn’t think I was worth it…” her voice trailed off.

  I froze. Because I realised what had eroded her self-esteem.

  I did.

  I did that to her with the way I reacted when it all went to shit. Because I couldn’t stop myself from blaming her. Hating her. Taunting her.

  I couldn’t be happy, so neither could she. But I couldn’t leave her alone because I didn’t want anyone else to have her.

  Fuck, I was such an asshole. Am. Am an asshole.

  Ailis shook her head as if she were shaking off her thoughts and forced a smile. “Anyway, I got over that, didn’t I?”

  Did she?

  She cleared her throat. “Where did you go after you left school?”

  I guess that awkward topic was over, then. Fine with me.

  I tore off a piece of garlic naan bread, using it to sop up the remainder of my curry, before tossing my empty plastic container aside. “I went to London first. Moved in with Rickie.”

  “I met him at my audition. He seems like a good man.”

  He is. More of a father to me than mine ever was.

  I shrugged, but I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my lip. “He’s a horny teenager trapped in an aging body.” I thought about the purple snakeskin boots he liked to wear. “His dress sense borders on offensive, but,” my voice softened, “he’d be there for me in a heartbeat. He’s a good egg, despite his claims otherwise.”

  “How did you and Rickie meet?” Ailis leaned in towards me, her curry forgotten to the side.

  I should say something nasty to make her pull away from me. But for once I couldn’t bring myself to.

  This, just sitting here with her, talking, was…nice. More than nice.

  “I went touring with my father and Rickie the summer before I turned eighteen. My father didn’t trust me to stay at home by myself in his mansion. Thought I was going to burn it down or something.” I let out a humourless laugh.

  Ailis blinked, my admission visibly surprising her.

  It was the closest I’d ever come to admitting what my father had been to me; a different man than the passionate musical genius he portrayed to the world.

  I couldn’t stand to see the emotions that stained her features. I hopped off the stage, gathered up the containers and used napkins, and took them over to the bin in the room just so I didn’t have to keep looking at her. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, let alone hers.

  “I think he was the only one who hated me as much as you did,” I called back to her with a bitter laugh.

  “I never hated you, Danny,” she admitted in a soft voice. “Not even when you hated me.”

  When I turned around she was still sitting on the stage, eyes on me, her skirt riding up above her knees, her slim stockinged legs kicking out like she was thirteen again. If I dropped my eyes, I bet I could see up her skirt.

  I glanced down to the junction of her thighs, to that elusive sweet spot I could barely make out in the shadow of her tight skirt. She’d worn that skirt for me.

  She wanted me to look. So I did.

  Her legs stopped kicking. She made no move to cover herself up. She knew where I was looking.

  I sucked the sight down like it was air that I needed to breathe. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, washing away all rational thought, just like when I got up onstage. I didn’t think, I just acted.

  I stalked towards her, my hands like fists at my sides. I wanted to push her back on that stage and lift her ankles around my shoulders.

  To rip those stockings off her.

  To make her hurt so good.

  I looked up, falling into her startled gaze, just as I reached her. Her warm vanilla scent floated up around me, a reminder of the innocence I was determined to corrupt. I was too far gone to care.

  My hands slid between her knees and pushed her legs apart. She let me. I stepped into the space I’d forced her to make for me, my hips settling against hers, causing my blood to turn molten. I had to repress a groan.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, breathless. She sounded almost terrified.

  She didn’t push me back, though. She didn’t make a single move to get away.

  For a second I didn’t move either. She pinned me down just as much as I pinned her.

  I was going against every single one of my fucking rules but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted to fuck the stage fright right out of her, damn whatever came next. I was too selfish. I would have her even if it meant she could lose her scholarship.

  What was I doing? she’d asked.

  “What I should have done ages ago,” I said, partly to her. Mostly to myself.

  My gaze dropped to her lips. They parted even though she’d stopped breathing.

  She wanted this. She wanted me to ruin her. She craved my fingers dragging across her skin like chains. Once I wrapped them around her, I’d not let go. She wanted me to drown her. To take her down with me into the dark, violent depths.

  “This is a bad idea.” But her voice sang of submission. She’d given up. Given in.

  I shot her a smirk. “Probably.” Definitely.

  I leaned in, a slow, misleading intro into what would be an epic rock song, a demand nonetheless. I was done waiting. I wanted her, now.

  She tilted her face to mine, inviting me in with a soft sigh.

  This.

  Here.

  Finally.

  The door slammed open. Ailis pushed me away with a shove to the chest. I accepted it with a scowl, spinning on my heel, ready to incinerate the eejit who dared to interrupt.

  A college security guard stood at the doorway.

  “Oh, er, sorry,” he said. “I saw the light on. I didn’t think anyone was here…”

  “Obviously we are,” I snapped.

  The guard nodded and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t see anything. He had nothing to report back to Mrs Prim.

  I turned back to Ailis, but she’d hopped off the stage out of my reach. Reason had obviously had a chance to make its case against me.

  “I should go home,” she said, refusing to meet my eye.

  I remained motionless as she walked across the room, mesmorised by the sway of her hips.

  Something struck me. I hadn’t wanted a girl like this since…well, since her, when we were teenagers.

  My life was only about music, should only be about music.

  No relationships.

  No distractions.

  Definitely no falling in love.

  Ailis made me want to say fuck it to all my rules. Against all my better judgement.

  The truth was glaringly obvious to me now. I wanted her as much as I wanted to make music. Had wanted her since we were kids. I needed her to bury myself inside her as much as I needed to be drowned by fame.

  And she wanted me.

  Back then, things were more complicated. Emotions too tangled. Feelings too tender and immature. But we were adults now.

  I could have her.

  Would have her.

  And she’d let me.

  Even if it ruined her.

  43

  ____________

  Ailis

  It was the last day of midterm break. An
na returned from her parents’ country house in Roscommon just as I was about to leave the house to meet Danny. I was forced to stand there in the entryway chatting to her. Her holiday was great, she said. Too much food and drink. When she asked me how my break was, I blushed and mumbled something about it being okay.

  She stared with curiosity at my bag over my shoulder. “Were you about to leave?”

  I nodded. Just play it cool. She won’t figure out that you’re about to meet your ex-best friend, ex-bully, current professor who you’ve had a titanic-sized crush on for, like, forever and almost kissed last night.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Where are you going so early?”

  “College. Finish up some stuff.” I aimed for casual, but my voice came out tight. If she knew I was meeting Danny she would never let it go.

  My phone beeped. My stomach flipped when I saw it was a message from Danny.

  Danny: Where r u?

  It was just past nine in the morning. I frowned. Okay, I was late but I wasn’t that late. We’d agreed to meet at nine at the recording studios. Correction: he’d wanted to be there from sunup, but I demanded a sleep in and told him I’d meet him there at nine.

  Me: Sorry, housemate has me cornered. Be there soon.

  “Who is that?” Anna asked.

  “No one.”

  Only the person I think about the most. Dream about. Fantasize about all the time, even in class.

  Especially in class.

  I forced a smile. An I’m-totally-innocent smile. I hoped I was pulling it off.

  Beep.

  Danny: Hurry up.

  I shoved my phone back into my bag.

  Anna pointed at my face, tracing a circle in midair. “You are blushing.”

  Fuck.

  Never had I hated my propensity to light up like a tomato more than now.

  “I…” Couldn’t finish that sentence with the truth and wasn’t quick enough to come up with a believable lie. I blamed not having had my morning coffee yet, dammit.

  Anna leaned in, her eyes roaming over my face. “You’re wearing makeup.”