Hearts On Campus: An Instalove Possessive Age Gap Romance, Flora Ferrari [best authors to read .txt] 📗

Breakfast is looking more like lunch.

Missed a couple of calls too. Nothing that can’t wait.

But that starts to bug me once I start to really wake up.

Nobody calls me, like nobody. Ever.

Especially twice on a Sunday morning.

Weird.

I try to ignore it and lay still, willing myself to get up and be full of energy.

The pleasant ache between my legs and in my limbs making me curl a smile as I recount the details from last night with Wes.

Where is he?

Starting the day with mystery isn’t my idea of fun, and I have to decide which bugs me worse not knowing where Wes is or not knowing who called me?

I groan and snatching my phone up I swipe it to see who called.

One number I don’t know and one from Professor Bernstein.

I feel a jolt in my stomach like I’ve been caught. Found out.

Guilty.

Sitting up and then actually deciding to just get out of bed, I call out for Wes, sure I can almost hear him from somewhere.

He’s out on the balcony, pacing as he talks into his phone.

He’s wearing a robe that’s hanging open, and I can’t help but admire the view.

If I’m guilty of anything right now, it’s of being madly in love with Wes Heart.

Addicted to the sight of his nakedness.

Wishing it was a prelude to something good I wince when I see how mad he looks, hear the tone of his voice even though it’s muffled by the double-thick panes of the patio doors.

I turn on my heel, deciding to leave him to it. Whoever he’s talking to, it’s none of my business until he wants to tell me about it.

Although I’m not totally stupid.

I have missed calls and he’s in a heated phone call the morning after a run in with that security guard?

The day after Professor Bernstein joined a few of his own dots yesterday too.

The same Professor Bernstein who’s been instrumental in setting up my post-graduate research grant.

I groan out loud, feeling my stomach turn into a knot once I focus on the very bad feeling I have about all of these coincidences.

Wes said he’d go where I go, support me a hundred percent.

I wonder if that includes supporting me with a roof over my head and food once I have no job or research grant?

Don’t jump to conclusions, Katelyn. Use your logic here. You can’t speculate on anything without data.

Oh shut up! You’re screwed and so is Wes. When was the last time you read about teachers running off with students that had a happy ending?

I don’t want to hear it. Don’t even want to think about it.

Like Wes said, we’ve done nothing wrong. We’re consenting adults.

I hear the patio doors close loudly and rush to meet him.

His face softens once he sees me, not having to force a smile.

“Morning. Didn’t wake you did I?” he asks sincerely.

“Wake me? I should’ve been up hours ago,” I try to protest, but his face is a question.

“Up for what?” he asks, looking concerned like I might have missed something important.

“I missed some calls,” I volunteer, trying to sound like it’s not a big deal, but as usual, once Wes is right in front of me everything else just fades away.

“Me too,” he says and rolls his eyes. “Seems like our little friend from yesterday has a big mouth, and an itchy phone finger,” he adds.

I feel that knot in my belly tighten.

“What do you mean?” I ask, needing to find a chair to sit on, my legs wobbly from last night as well as knowing what’s probably coming.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he tells me, taking a seat next to me and putting his arm around me.

“Just the Dean of the college and your Professor, blowing smoke up my ass,” he sighs.

“What’s gonna happen, Wes?” I ask him, suddenly worrying I won’t be strong enough to stand up to these people on my own.

Wes won’t always be right next to me. At some point I’m gonna have the Professor and who knows who else breathing down my neck, asking all sorts of questions.

“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “I thought we could have some leftovers. Maybe head up to my place in the hills, see how you feel about staying there. It’s not that far, from campus I mean.”

He’s not kidding either, but I can’t help but feel annoyed.

“Dammit Wes, this is serious. How can you be so offhand about the whole thing?” I ask him, almost shouting.

“Offhand? About what, us?” he asks me, growing serious in a second.

“Katelyn, I meant it when I said I’d follow you anywhere. Do whatever it takes to see you happy and doing what you love because I love you. Remember when I said that?” he asks, just a hint of frustrated sarcasm in his voice.

“Sorry,” he adds quickly. “But you know what I said and you know how I feel. Don’t let a few naysayers spoil this for us, Katelyn.”

I know he means well, he really does and I believe Wes. I really do.

“It’s Professor Bernstein who’s in charge of my postgraduate research, Wes. A word from him or the Dean… my whole career could be over before it even starts. Yours too,” I add for effect.

He looks hurt, turning away before he says something else.

I don’t want to make him angry or hurt him, but I don’t think Wes really understands the situation I’m in now.

“I-I don’t have anything, Wes. I don’t have money or a place to live. I don’t have a family or even any friends,” I stammer, my voice cracking with emotion.

“My whole life up until yesterday was that college, campus life, and my research grant. Another three years after that? A job somewhere, hopefully. Maybe even being a teacher myself,” I blub, willing myself not to cry and failing miserably.

Wes opens his arms and I sink into them, needing them around me more than ever now.

“You still have all those things, Katelyn. You have the college