Heat Up the Fall: New Adult Boxed Set (6 Book Bundle) Read online

  “You want us to walk you home?”

  “I’m fine. It’s only ten,” I reminded her.

  “I’ll see you in the morning. Get some rest.” It was an order. Sometimes she sounded like she’d already taken her Hippocratic Oath.

  “Yes, Dr. Stone.” I gave her a salute.

  The air outside Garrett’s was chilly. It was only the beginning of September, but it didn’t take long for the Washington nights to turn cool. I fumbled with my iPhone as I headed home, lingering over the newest entry in my contact list, before I hit the sleep button and shoved it in my pocket.

  Did I really want to wind up like Jess and Cassie running home early on Friday nights with their boyfriends? Sure, they had access to on-demand sex, but I had on-demand movies waiting for me. A night at home would be fun. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d just been alone. Wouldn’t it be a drag to have to share that with a boyfriend?

  I ignored the little voice in my head that whispered “no.”

  Chapter Seven

  Markson skated into class five minutes late, narrowly avoiding the ten minute rule every student at Olympic Falls lived by. We were only five more minutes away from walking out of the classroom. His vest was wrinkled and he ran his hands through his tangled black hair, trying to smooth it into place. He had the distinct look of someone who had just woken up.

  "Sorry," he called, waving a stack of papers. "Copier jammed."

  "Alarm didn’t work?" I asked.

  "I wish," he said as he handed sheets of paper to each row. "More like no rest for the wicked."

  There was a devilish gleam in his eyes as he said it. Apparently, Markson had a life outside of his office, and that life kept him out late. Maybe we had more in common than I previously thought. I watched as he continued through the classroom. In his disheveled attire, he looked like a frat guy who had just rolled out of bed.

  "Should I be jealous?" Liam whispered.

  "I don’t do jealous friends," I said in an effort to remind him of where he stood with me. It was also a real warning. I couldn’t stand when my friends got pushy and jealous, and that went even more for guys. The last boy I’d bothered to date was possessive, which irritated me to no end. Although it did end—and quickly at that.

  Liam leaned against his chair and whistled as he read his assignment paper. "This should be fun."

  That didn’t sound good. Scanning the paper, my stomach turned over. It was a project to be completed with our partner outside of class.

  But that wasn’t the fun part.

  "Now," Markson said, pushing himself onto the front desk, "before you all freak out. I realize that this sounds a lot like a date. It is not a date!"

  I reread the paper. It sounded like a date to me.

  "I’m not complaining," Liam said, his mouth splitting into a grin.

  "Thank you for the validation, Mr. McAvoy."

  Liam gave him a very masculine-code-of-conduct nod. Boys.

  "The purpose of this assignment is to teach you to consider the various needs of your partner…"

  "I like this assignment," Liam whispered to me.

  "You would."

  Meanwhile, Markson continued his explanation, although he shot us a warning glance to stop talking. "We all act within certain societal constructs, so the roles we engage in are based on our experiences. If you will, a person who grew up with a lot of money, for instance, might act differently on a date than someone who grew up poor."

  "I thought you said this wasn’t a date," someone said from the back row.

  "It was an example." Markson held up his hands as if to say don’t shoot the messenger.

  "I’m in favor of calling it a date," Liam said.

  From across the classroom someone hummed a few bars of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker.”

  "As much as I’d love to see you all get married, have babies, and name them for your venerable professor, I’m fairly certain most of you aren’t interested in dating each other, save for Mr. McAvoy."

  There were a few catcalls and Liam gave a half-bow from his seat.

  "All this project asks you to do is spend an afternoon or evening with your partner, trying to engage in the behavior you anticipate they would normally assume if you spent recreational time together. Ideally, you will base this on the information you’ve garnered from getting to know them in class, but you can also fall back on more stereotypical models. Girls, hold open the doors and pay the tabs. Boys, ask her to pick you up."

  "That’s not really how it works. Guys don’t hold open doors, and I don’t expect people to pick me up," I complained. Markson was way too young to have such a ‘50s attitude toward dating.

  "Chivalry is dead," a girl said in agreement.

  "‘Cause feminism killed it," her partner said.

  "Because we never needed it in the first place," I shot back.

  "We still have chivalry in Scotland," Liam said to me. "Let me show you sometime."

  "Once again, examples! You can choose whatever takes you out of your comfort zone and forces you to consider how to meet the expectations of your partner while communicating your own. It’s called walking a mile in someone else’s shoes."

  I glanced around the classroom. Two guys shifted uncomfortably in their seats, looking at each other. What I wouldn’t give to see what they would come up with. For a brief second, I imagined the two of them getting pedicures at Tough as Nails down the street. Not that I was going to do it myself. Markson couldn’t force me to go out with Liam. If it wasn’t completely crazy, I might have asked if Liam had put him up to it.

  "And for those of you who are thinking, he can’t make me do this," Markson said as if he were reading my thoughts. "You are right. However, please note this is your mid-term assignment. I’m giving you ample time to complete this, and it’s worth 40% of your final grade."

  I groaned, checking my sheet to see that I had to complete the assignment by mid-term, which was only two weeks away. I cursed the unusually short semesters that ran all of three and a half months at Olympic State.

  "You each need to write up a five to seven page paper on the experience, which will be turned in separately from your partner."

  This time everyone in the class groaned along with me. Why did every professor at the college think they taught the only class we were taking? There was nothing like getting hit with an unexpected paper two weeks before mid-term exams, especially when it required such uncomfortable research.

  "Please write your paper independently from your partner. I want your insight into the experiment, not what your partner wants you to say." I wasn’t dreaming that he looked right at me as he added the last part of the assignment.

  So all I had to do was go on a not-a-date with Liam, who thought it was a date, and then pretend to be him, and write a paper about the experience.

  "And to show you that I am not heartless, you are free to go for the day once you’ve worked out the details of your project with your partner," Markson said to a smattering of applause. He beamed at us, but I wanted to wipe the smug grin from his face. I should have dropped this class when I had the chance for a tuition refund. Jess hadn’t mentioned any of these torturous assignments when she took this class. Had she been going out on not-a-dates last semester without me realizing it? Of course, with the number of study groups she attended each week, it wasn’t unthinkable.

  "So—" Liam turned to me "—what works for your schedule?"

  "Whatever. Maybe next week. We have two weeks to get it in," I said with a shrug of my shoulders. I was simultaneously eager to get it over with while wanting to put it off forever. Liam had that effect on me.

  "If it’s okay, I have a lot of big tests coming up the week this is due. I’d rather get it over with."

  Get it over with? How his tune had changed in a matter of minutes.

  "Fine," I agreed. It would be like a Band-Aid, much easier to rip off immediately rather than take too much time thinking about it. Waiting nearly two more weeks would only
result in a slow, painful reminder of my impending doom.

  "Tonight?"

  I hesitated. "I have plans with my friend Jess."

  "Sorry, I’m being rash." He reached over and grabbed my notebook, scribbling a number across a sheet. "I’m guessing you deleted my number."

  I hadn’t but I wasn’t about to admit it to him. Besides, there was something so delightfully old-school about the move that I reconsidered. "I’ll be done by eight. How about I call you?"

  Liam raised an eyebrow.

  "I’m adopting a traditional male role for this one," I told him.

  "Will I feel like I’m on an episode of Mad Men?" he asked me.

  "Yes, I plan to speak down to you, and I expect you to bring me cocktails at the door," I said in a flat voice. "I’m taking the initiative here. That’s what guys are supposed to do, right?"

  "I’m not complaining," Liam said. "But, and I hate to break it to you, in my experience, you usually take the initiative."

  I flushed scarlet as his words, unable to ignore the thought of his skin on my skin. Even the memory sizzled.

  "Then maybe I should be the one who waits around for you? That’s definitely not like me." It was a challenge.

  Liam shook his head. "How about we use the things we learned from that first assignment? Forget the Mad Men remake."

  I tried to remember all the items Liam had listed about me, or the things I had learned about him. "Okay."

  "You don’t sound sure."

  "I’m not, but since you’re always so sure, I guess I’m trying that on for size."

  "I like the way you think." Liam dropped his pen into his bag and stood. "See you tonight, Jillian."

  I tried to tell myself that the brief thrill that shivered through me was all part of the experience. I was clearly channeling Liam’s enthusiasm for this project, because racing hearts and date nights so weren’t my scene.

  Chapter Eight

  I was ten minutes late to meet Jess at Garrett’s for pizza night, which was nothing new. Save for the weird incident in Markson’s class a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been on time since I’d gotten out from under Tara’s roof. It was probably some form of subconscious rebellion at the near-military precision with which she ran the family schedule. But being late meant that Jess was probably buried under a mountain of books, and when I found her in the side booth, she was poring over anatomy notes.

  “Sorry,” I said breathlessly.

  Jess waved off my apology but didn’t bother to look up. This was why I needed to be on time when I met up with her. Cassie had texted to say she couldn’t make it, which meant it was my lone responsibility to get Jess to think about something besides blood types and autoimmune diseases for the next hour. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  “Did you order?” I asked her, and she shook her head.

  Waving at Frank who was wiping down the bar, I held up two fingers. “The usual!”

  I folded my arms on the table and rested my chin on them, so I could stare her down. “Can you tell me what a penis is?”

  Jess barely cracked a smile. This was an old game, and she’d built up a little bit of an immunity to my shenanigans in the last year. I racked my head for any number of the ridiculous questions Jess had shared from her anatomy class. Since most students thought anatomy was simple memorization, pre-med types like Jess were always getting stuck in there with slackers who wanted to avoid Biology.

  “Do girls have testicles?” I asked her. That was my favorite one. I still didn’t know if a boy or a girl had asked the question. I didn’t have the heart to ask.

  “You better have a big old set if you keep interrupting me,” Jess said, but she was definitely grinning.

  “How do girls pee when they’re on their periods?”

  Jess slammed the book shut and laughed. “You win. I’ll stop.”

  “That was only three questions,” I said, puffing my chest out. “I think that’s a record.”

  “I need a break from studying. I’m actually dreaming that I’m reading my textbooks. With my luck, I’m going to answer one of my midterms with something from one of them.”

  “In your dreams, do girls have balls?” I asked her. Frank slapped two beers down on our table.

  “I’m not going to ask you girls what you’re talking about,” he said, throwing a bar towel over his shoulder and shaking his head as he left.

  “No, but the other day, I woke up convinced that I’d dissected a deer.”

  I gagged on my beer and scowled at her. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “It was a dream,” she reminded me. “I didn’t actually do it, but the dream was so real that I thought I did. My professor was there and my labmate. When I woke up, I was almost sick over it.”

  “You do know what you’ll have to do when you’re a doctor, right?” Dead bodies were pretty par for the course in her field.

  “Of course, I know that. But the lab is different than seeing deer guts when I close my eyes.” Despite our conversation, Jess grabbed for a slice of pizza as soon as Frank slid the tray onto the table.

  “Hot!” he warned.

  “Jess has an unnatural ability to withstand heat,” I assured him.

  “I don’t have time to wait for things to cool down.” That was the understatement of the century. Jess could pack away more food in five minutes than most teenage boys I’d met in my lifetime.

  “It’s like you were biologically programmed to be a doctor,” I said as I watched her down half of a steaming slice. I couldn’t even pick a piece up without burning my fingers.

  “Thanks!”

  “So you won’t believe what Markson is making me do.” I told her about the project he assigned to us today.

  “I did that one,” Jess said. “Of course, I was partnered with a girl, and I hadn’t slept with her.”

  “Exactly! And it’s painfully obvious that we’ve done it,” I said to her. “Liam has spilled enough in front of Markson that he has to know.”

  “Roman won’t care.” Jess reached for another piece.

  “Roman?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Professor Markson.” She almost managed to hide her blush, but not quite.

  “Now I see why you liked the class.”

  “That’s not it,” she said, but her words were defensive.

  “What did you do on your date…um, your project?” I asked her. After her shenanigans with Liam, she didn’t deserve a free pass over Markson, but I gave her one anyway.

  “I can’t remember exactly, although she planned most of it because, you know, I’m a control freak.”

  I nodded, and Jess kicked me under the table.

  “Hey! I was just being supportive,” I said, leaning down to rub the affected area. “Shit, Jess, are you wearing steel-toed boots?”

  “I think we went to a football game, actually. Sara and I had a lot in common, so it was kinda hard for us.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about. I need enough material to warrant 40% of my grade.” I screwed my face up. I didn’t relish the idea of analyzing Liam for two hours. It felt too much like a real date. Although I would be trying to figure out how to meet his interpersonal needs instead of wondering if he liked me. I wasn’t sure what the difference was exactly.

  “It’ll be fun. You can always make stuff up,” Jess suggested.

  “Is that what you do? Do humans now have opposable toes?” I made a grab for her textbook like I was going to check.

  “Get it done early in case you need to meet up later and come up with more stuff for the paper.”

  “I think we’re meeting tonight,” I said in a soft voice. I wasn’t sure I wanted Jess to hear where I was going after this.

  “Oh really. You two kids be safe.” She winked at me as she wiped pizza sauce off her fingers.

  “Not a date! There will be no funny business,” I said.

  “You forget that I’ve seen Liam. If you can keep your hands off him, then you’re a better person tha
n I am.” Jess stood and gathered her books while I finished my last few bites. Our dinners always ended like this—with me shoveling food in my mouth because she had to be somewhere. Just once, I wanted to be the one with somewhere to rush off to. Maybe if I picked out a major that would happen.

  “Isn’t this whole project a chance to get out of my comfort zone? I would be much more comfortable taking him to bed than going out in public with him.”

  “I’m sure that’s what every guy wants to hear,” Jess said.

  We both paused and then met each other’s eyes. I was the one who said it, “Actually, it probably is. Yet another reason I’m not going to bed with him.”

  “It’s cool.” Jess checked her phone screen. “It’s too early anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked her, and then it dawned on me in horrifying clarity. “Do you have bets on when I’ll go to bed with him again?”

  “No!” Jess answered too quickly, and I grabbed for her phone. “Okay! Maybe!”

  “You disgust me,” I said, trying hard to sound serious.

  “If you can hold out another week, I’ll split the pot with you.”

  “What do I win?” I asked her.

  “A latte at Coffee & Cream.”

  “Wow. Big money.” Still winning was winning. “Deal. If I go back to bed with him, I’ll hold out.”

  “Excellent,” Jess chirped. “A week! Don’t forget!”

  “Got it,” I promised absent-mindedly, too caught up in texting Liam that I was ready. All the while thinking that this was one bet both of them were going to lose.

  Chapter Nine

  Liam had a plan of action by the time I reached him, which was excellent since I didn’t have any ideas. I was to pick him up at his host family’s house, and he would take it over from there. It wasn’t exactly a ground-breaking reversal of gender roles but it felt like a nice give and take. His host family’s house sat on the edge of campus in an old neighborhood that was an eclectic blend of bungalows, stone Tudors and small mansions. Nearly all the houses were occupied by professors, except one lonely street that boasted Greek housing.