Finally, she caved and shrugged, running her hands down her thighs. “Thank you. I’ll be ready around six?”
“Six is good,” I said, barely holding back my victorious smile. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. It’s the third door down. My room is at the end of the hall.”
With that, I turned, closing the door behind me, heading back to my office, smile firmly in place.
By the time six rolled around, I made sure I was downstairs in the living room waiting for her. She’d stayed in her room for the most part, although I heard her leave occasionally and rummage in the bathroom.
She’d changed her clothes to black jeans and a tank-top tucked in, thankfully with a bra.
Jesus, I felt like an old pervert.
“Ready?”
“Yup.”
“Are you okay with walking?” I asked, looking at her chunky, heeled boots.
“Yeah. I can walk everywhere in these.”
“You have a car, right?” she asked as I locked the door behind us.
“I do. It’s just nice out, and I like to walk when I can. Also, parking can be a bitch in the area with all the students. It’s not bad now since it’s summer, but come fall, there won’t be a free spot.”
“Makes sense.”
We walked the four blocks in silence, but it didn’t seem to bother her. She took in the older homes and shading trees. Every once in a while, a glimpse of campus would peek through the buildings. When we arrived, I asked for a booth toward the back where it was quieter.
She ordered a water and raised a brow when I ordered a beer. I raised one in return, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, I finally broke the silence.
“So, where’s your car? I remember you having one last time I was there.”
“I sold it for extra money to travel.”
“Makes sense.”
A small indent formed between her brows. “You think so?”
“Yeah, of course. I traveled after high school and didn’t have shit for money. I’d have sold a car if I had one, too.”
She laughed, her lips still somehow in a smirk. I knew she’d had a good life—good experiences, which didn’t always make a happy person. But part of me wondered if Arabella didn’t smile because her friends expected her to be cool and trendy over not really wanting to. I wasn’t that much older than her, but I still remembered the pressures of my peers, and that trend among people her age only increased over the more recent years. It was all about who you portrayed over who you really were.
Her personality screamed ‘fuck you,’ but it kind of felt like a veneer to keep people at a distance.
“Hell, there are days I still think about selling it, so I can travel more. But then I have my job teaching, so it might not go well.”
“What do you teach?”
“A few classes, but global economics is the big one. I also teach some basic economics classes, too.”
“Cool.”
This time the word didn’t grate on my nerves. She perked up and really meant it. She sat taller and brushed her hair back behind her ears, and for the first time, Arabella looked at me.
“What’s been your favorite place you’ve traveled?”
“Oh, boy.” I leaned back in the booth and mentally ran through fifteen years of travel, my focus faltering under the full weight of her attention. “Probably London or Scotland.”
“All of Scotland or a specific place?”
“I can’t pick a favorite place in Scotland. I won’t do it.” I crossed my arms and turned my nose up like a petulant child, and the earth moved.
Arabella laughed.
Her perfectly shaped pout parted into a perfectly shaped smile. Her head dropped back, and the pale length of her neck moved with the soft, happy sound that fell from her open mouth. It only lasted a moment, but it hit like a physical blow, creating a crack in my own facade, letting the truth trickle in.
I was fucked with this woman in my house.
Because she was a woman. Sitting before me, letting pieces of her true self slip free, she wasn’t just a girl. She was a woman, and that knowledge was dangerous.
“I worked at a shipping dock in a few places while I traveled Scotland,” she explained. “It was probably the cheapest place we went because of their open camping rules. We set up tents over staying in hotels or hostels.”
“I remember the few odd jobs I’d have. I was a bartender for a week in Paris. Didn’t know any French, but made it work.”
“I was a bartender in London for a month. With all the pubs, it seemed like the best option.”
“Do you plan on traveling more?” I asked.
“God, yes. I’d have never come home, but I needed help with money when my friend had to cancel. My parents said they’d cover what I was short if I agreed to college this year.”