Page 5 of Broken Beauty (Beauty 3)
“Okay, because you’re still not moving.”
“Any second now, I swear.”
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I wouldn’t do this to you, but you know they’ll run out if we don’t get there early.”
That wasn’t strictly true. The university bookstore never ran out of the required textbooks—just the used copies, which were all Erin could afford.
One semester Erin hadn’t had enough to cover the five hundred dollar total. Courtney had offered to charge one of the books to her card, saying her parents would never notice. But even if she paid the money back, it felt too much like charity. So Erin had visited the library every few days to use the in-house copy for her assignments.
Courtney dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Erin returned to the kitchen and looked over the notes for her research paper while she waited. In ten minutes, her friend emerged with damp hair, sweatpants, and a tank top that said DON’T HATE in glittery letters.
Dark sunglasses shielded her eyes, though she was still indoors. She looked like a rock star going out to fight the paparazzi.
Erin stifled a laugh. “That bad, huh?”
Courtney stuck out her tongue. She shuddered as they entered the sun and made their way to Erin’s car. “I didn’t get home until three. And this is why Jägermeister is a bad idea, boys and girls.”
“I think I’ve heard this PSA before,” Erin said, pulling out of the parking lot.
“Yes, well, I can’t seem to learn my lesson. Plus Derek was there, so things got a little crazy.”
Derek was Courtney’s ex…and of course he was there. Some said it wasn’t a party until he arrived, so Erin wondered why she kept going to them. Except she knew exactly why. They were on-again-off-again, and Courtney would prefer them to be on. Again.
“You know you should leave him alone.”
She gave Erin a glare that said her hangover was still going strong. “You’re one to talk. Dating the professor.”
“He’s not my professor.”
“Ohh,” Courtney said in mock-relief. “In that case, everything is hunky-dory. So I guess you told your mom about him.”
Erin slanted her a look, and Courtney laughed. No, she hadn’t told her mom. It would only make her worry.
“I’ll tell her soon. She can meet him when she comes for graduation.” Her mother might be annoyed when she figured out how long they’d been dating, but she’d come around, especially once she met Blake.
“Hey, I’m just giving you a hard time. I think it’s a good thing. Everyone needs to do something a little wild while they’re in college. Or in my case, many things.”
“But you always tell me what a bad idea it was.”
“Sure, after the fact. It’s usually fun while it’s happening. Do as I do, not as I say.”
“Hmm.” Though she wouldn’t have imagined it just a year ago, she was indeed following in Courtney’s fun-loving, impulse-indulging footsteps. Surpassing them really, because even Courtney hadn’t banged a professor.
It didn’t bother her on its own. She’d never been a stickler for propriety, and the way she felt about Blake far outweighed any lingering concerns over bylaws. But keeping it a secret crossed some line she hadn’t realized she’d drawn. The old Erin had put her mother and college career first. This new Erin…she didn’t know her too well. The one who got fucked against a wall at dawn. Who was she? It was fun and exciting, but everything had to balance out in the universe. A childhood of secondhand clothes and sewn-up backpacks taught her that nothing came for free. So what was she trading in for this newfound bliss?
The parking lot was already packed full of expensive, shiny cars and yawning students making their way to the university bookstore’s entrance. Inside, she and Courtney split up amid the metal bookshelves and large crates of textbooks.
They’d clearly arrived with time to spare. The place looked well stocked, and besides, Erin only had the one book to find. Her other credits were for her research. No textbook required for that, just many, many regular books at the library which she’d practically memorized by now.
She felt guilty for rushing Courtney out the door. It had been habit and an early-onset case of nostalgia that had her rushing over here. Four years of undergrad and two in graduate school. She would miss this place.
She trailed her finger along the cool metal shelving, feeling the harsh edge where one stopped and the next began. The school was beautifully appointed, with gorgeous oak desks and hardwood flooring. But the basement of the bookstore, where the textbooks were kept, was little more than a warehouse. Strangely, she felt most comfortable down here, strolling through towers of books.
She found the right aisle and made her way down. Ah, here it was. Quantitative and Analytical Political Science. Her last official class, not counting her research. She scanned the small printed paper. Her heart stuttered.
Dr. Blake Morris.
She read it again. That couldn’t be right. But oh God, oh God, of course it was him. The professor’s name had been left blank when she registered for the course. It wasn’t unusual. The tenured professors had their preferred courses to teach, but the adjunct staff was juggled around each semester. This was the course they’d hired him to teach. Her class. His specialty was U.S. history! She’d just assumed… Hadn’t he mentioned the Romans...? Oh God. She was so screwed.
