Page 26 of Teaching Roman

Chapter Thirteen

If silence was golden,Cassie gloating was torture. I sat cross-legged on her bed as she tried on another summery dress in preparation for our mandatory girls night. This one was white, but its virginal simplicity stopped there. In true Cassie fashion, the skirt stopped centimeters below her butt cheeks and its straps crisscrossed in a revealing pattern down the length of her back. It looked fantastic against her skin, which after only a couple days of sun already had tanned to a sexy bronze. She’d dragged me back to the beach all day, even going so far as to confiscate my phone. Since I’d totally hooked up with a very off-limits guy—in front of her—I couldn’t refuse her demands that I spend today with her. It did mean that day three of my one week was a loss. I did my best to ignore the uptick in anxiety the thought caused.

“I can’t decide which I hate more,” I said, choosing to focus on her dress quest, “your legs or how easily you tan.”

She shrugged, her eyes flickering to me in the mirror as she applied mascara. “Benefits of having a Greek mama.”

“That and the baklava,” I pointed out. My stomach rumbled at the thought and I checked my phone for the time. “Speaking of, any chance we’re eating today?”

“Looking this delish takes time, asshat.”

“Have I ever told you how endearing your nicknames are?” I asked.

“You haven’t, but there’s more where that came from if you play your cards right.” She shot me a smile over her shoulder.

I twisted a silk scarf around my fingers. She really did pack for all possible situations. I tossed it on the ever-growing heap of clothes on the bed, unable to concentrate. She had yet to start grilling me about Roman, but I knew it was coming. “I thought we were just going to grab something down the street.”

“Oh, you aren’t getting off that easily.”

“Whoa!” I stopped her. “I promised food and unlimited dirty jokes at my expense, but”—

“But nothing. I have something you want.”

“And that is?” It would be too much to hope that I was getting my phone back. Not this soon.

“I might have invited a certain hottie prof.”

“You didn’t!” Where was a nice hole to fall into when you needed one? I couldn’t believe she would do that. My fling with Roman was supposed to be just that: a fling.

“All’s fair, Jess.”

I moaned, burying my face in my hands. There was no way Cassie would be on her best behavior in front of him. In fact, it was entirely likely that she would be on her worst. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You were probably a war criminal in your last life,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Since she wasn’t always known for thinking things through, my question was genuine. “This isn’t love or war. It’s just a summer affair…in December. It’s casual, and I’m not an expert, but hanging out with friends isn’t very casual. What if he thinks it means more?”

“So it’s just a no strings attached thing? You’re playing teacher’s pet?”

“It’s not like that.” I felt the heat rising on my cheeks. This wasn’t some horny, schoolgirl crush and Roman wasn’t some predatory college professor. I didn’t even like joking about it.

Cassie spun around to face me, lipstick poised precariously in her fingers. “How is it then? You can tell me now and I’ll behave around Markson, or…”

I didn’t have to ask her what my other option was. Cassie unfiltered was hilarious when you weren’t the target of her musings. When you were—well, it could get ugly. Jillian had dumped a pitcher of beer on her once.

“Fine,” I caved. “We’ve agreed to see each other for one week.”

“One week?” she said incredulously. “What good is that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s just a teacher at our college,” I reminded her, “and I’m getting over a break-up.” Sometimes I forgot that Cassie was a serial monogamist. Having a boyfriend was like having a purse to her—essential. If one broke, she went out and started shopping for a new one immediately. That went for bags and men.

Cassie laughed at me like I was nuts. “I’m getting over a break-up. You are back in the game.”

“I dated Brett for almost a year.”

“You weren’t in love with him.” Cassie waved the lipstick haphazardly as she channeled her inner, advice-dispensing diva. “You tolerated him. I’m not sure you even liked him.”

“I liked him,” I protested. Just because she couldn’t see what I had in Brett didn’t mean I hadn’t cared about him.