Work Text:
Marianne leaned on the window sill, chin in her palm and eyes staring through the glass as rain pelted against the barrier between outside and in. Her worksheets were still sitting on the desk half-finished, homework forgotten for the sake of silent mourning for an afternoon of playing outside ruined by the rain. She had been wanting to get back to the new playground her father had bought for the girls that was standing in the backyard in all of its fresh wood-smelling glory! Sunny could have come over and she could have played pirates while Dawn played the kidnapped princess. It wasn’t Marianne’s idea, she wanted Sunny to be the damsel in distress—whatever a damsel was—and Dawn be the other pirate but her sister stubbornly wanted to be the princess.
No chance of that happening now.
Sighing, she frowned as the glass fogged over, pouting her lower lip as she used her sleeve to buff away the mist. On the other side of the glass, she could see the house next door with the porch light still lit like a beacon shining in the deluge. Water rolled off the awning over the porch in constant streams but that didn’t deter the lone figure ducking through the runoff and striding to the mailbox standing vigilant at the side of the street.
Marianne folded her arms on the sill, her interest caught by the appearance of their mysterious next door neighbor. He didn’t come out of his house very often, at least not enough for her to have noticed. Her father told her that his name was Bo McKinley but he was to be addressed as Mr. McKinley to them should they ever speak to him. It was more her father’s rule than their neighbor’s she felt, her dad being a very uptight individual when it came to casual treatment of anyone outside of his family. He was a man in his late twenties to Marianne’s twelve years, which didn’t make him old enough to be a “mister” anything in her opinion.
Thankfully there were no opportunities for her to worry about what to call him. They didn’t exactly cross paths on a daily basis. Marianne was always too sleepy when her and Dawn stood in the driveway to get on the school bus in the morning and Mr. McKinley was always rushing to his car juggling various papers in his arms before he tore off up the street without a single greeting. Dawn, ever the optimist, thought he was just a busy man but Marianne felt it was just a genuine disinterest in being a good neighbor. He could just not like kids in general because she spotted him talking to her father more than once. Clipped conversations passed over the fenced front yard, Mr. McKinley sour-faced and grumbling most of the time.
Now, looking at him slinking in the rain, Marianne squinted through the speckled glass at his thin frame. He opened and closed his mailbox in record time, holding the envelopes to his chest as he stalked back to the porch. Ducking under the flow, it spattered the top of his head and he jumped forward with a muted yelp when some dripped down the back of his collar. Marianne expected him to go inside but he lingered on the porch, shaking off the chill of the surprise shower and checking through the envelopes, shuffling through them until he eventually plucked a pink one from inside. He turned it over a few times then slipped it back into the rest of the mail, moving out of her eyesight and leaving her spiking curiosity unsatisfied.
What was a guy doing with a pink envelope in his mail?
Weird.
————
“Uh oh…” Dawn’s hands went to her cheeks, hesitantly looking up at Marianne, whose shoulders slumped at the sight of the ball rolling across McKinley’s yard until it finally stopped, lightly tapping the base of the stairs of his back deck.
“Of all places you find out how far you can throw…” Marianne groaned, a hand slapping to her forehead and dragging down her face, eyes peering from in between her fingers.
“I’m sorry—”Dawn’s voice trembled with the threat of tears but Marianne was preoccupied by staring at the ball still sitting innocently in McKinley’s backyard.
Lowering her hand, Marianne sighed and approached the fence. It wasn’t very tall to begin with, their lanky neighbor probably could have stepped over it with those stilts he called legs of his. Marianne on the other hand had to get a good grip on the top of the posts before she could haul herself over the top and drop to the other side, feeling the wood scrape her arm but ignoring the sting in favor of creeping towards the ball, her eyes constantly darting up to the windows of the home, half expecting him to be watching them from behind the glass.
Dad warned them many times not to trespass on McKinley’s property and she obeyed simply for lack of desire to go over there. The only excuse was for Halloween and they always darted over there first for their first candy fix because he was conveniently located and his mother always visited just to make sure he participated in handing out the treats. This trespassing, however, was for a legitimate reason. Dawn threw the ball too hard and she was just going to get it back because Dawn may have thrown it like a champ but her climbing skills were horrible. Maybe he wouldn’t even notice she was there and she could get back to her yard without a fuss.
Whatever happened, Marianne was nearly there, her fingers already reaching out for the bright blue ball. She could almost feel the plastic when the back door suddenly swung inwards and the man himself appeared on the deck, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down his long nose at her. Marianne froze on the spot, gawking up at his ridiculous height, further elaborated by the fact he was standing on the risen deck. Her hands trembled slightly at the cold dread of having been caught, cold dread running through her when he crossed the deck and descended the stairs, feet rustling through the grass as he drew nearer.
He stopped directly in front of her, looming tall with a permanent scowl. His gaze shifted to the ball and his forehead wrinkled. Crouching down, he picked up the ball, eyeing it, her, then Dawn still standing on the other side of the fence. He huffed through his nose and lowered his gaze back to Marianne, who still hadn’t moved, her feet cemented to the ground. The longer he stared down at her, the more she worried that he was going to do something. Maybe shout at her, feed her to a dog she wasn’t sure he even owned, or even tell dad she had gone into his yard.
Still crouched in front of her, the ball still suspended between his hands, he fixed her with a stern expression that left Marianne swallowing thickly and feeling ready to bolt without the ball.
“Is this yours?”
Marianne nodded stiffly.
He rolled it between his hands thoughtfully before his blue-eyed gaze flicked back to Dawn. “Your sister has a good arm.”
The compliment floored her and her hands dropped to her sides as she stared up at him, watching his face as he started to smile. It was a very small one, it didn’t even seem to be a smile at all, judging by how slight it had been but the corner of his mouth did pick up a bit. The sight of it eased Marianne out of her fear and she held her hands out, the man setting the ball in her waiting palms. She clutched it close when he straightened back up and nearly screamed when his hand reached towards her, flinching back only to freeze when he rustled her hair. The moment his hand was gone, she blinked up at him again, puzzled.
“Do you need help getting back over the fence?” he nodded to their yard while his hands slipped into the pockets of his jeans.
“I—I can take care of myself!” she piped up in a flare of stubbornness, turning about and running back to the fence without another word. She flung the ball to the other side and clambered over the top, flopping heavily down face first into the grass as Dawn chased after the ball still bouncing across their yard. Lying there nose-deep in the dirt, she could have sworn that she heard a low chuckling before a door shut firmly in its wake.
————
Rain always knew when to fall.
Early April was supposed to be the rainy season; spring that was still trying to shake off winter’s grip and all of the threats of snow became nothing more than cold, disheartening rain. Why the high school thought this was an excellent time of year for prom, she didn’t know. All she really cared about was that it was cold, wet, and her stupid date left without her and without giving her a ride home.
Marianne’s skirts were starting to stick to her legs, layers of chiffon and satin soaked through by rain and muddy splatters where cars drove past her in the night. Her feet were frozen in the strappy pumps Dawn had helped her pick out after searching through hundreds of different stores and thrift shops for the “perfect” accessories to her first prom. At the time she remembered panicking over not looking nice enough for the event and Dawn had to reassure her countless times while they assembled the outfit together that she was going to be gorgeous. Now everything was ruined and the shoes they once fawned over were absolute murder. Every step reverberated up the balls of her feet and she winced, gritting her teeth in the knowledge that home was still miles away.
The main road was practically vacant, a few wet drones from passing cars were the only breaks in the constant ambiance of rainfall and the headlights always blinded her after long stretches of darkness. Yellowed streetlamps did little to help light the way but Marianne knew the route well enough to trust her sense of direction in getting home. When she had decent footwear and a pair of jeans instead of this stupid dress, she was going to hunt Jason down and strangle him for putting her through this. Maybe she’d do it with her necklace he picked out for her for a touch of melodramatic flare.
Thinking of Jason only reminded her of why she was in this situation to begin with and even dark thoughts of violent actions couldn’t lift her mood as she replayed the night’s events through her mind. Back at the high school gym, covered from floor to ceiling in black and navy fabrics with cardboard stars covered in foil and starry Christmas lights made the decorations for their low-budget prom. Marianne had been mesmerized by the star motifs when Jason cornered her behind one of the decorative fichus trees off in the corner of the gymnasium, hands trapping her to the retracted bleachers and murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. For a moment she enjoyed the attention, letting him kiss her neck and place his hands on her waist. It wasn’t until he kissed her on the mouth that Marianne grew uncomfortable with where his hands tried to roam on her. He tried to hike up her dress, her hands pushing his away to redirect them to possibly lace fingers with her or maybe cradle her head. Something affectionate rather than the groping he seemed so keen to accomplish. He resisted her guidance and tried to cop a feel of her instead, Marianne pulling away and refusing to let him kiss her again, insisting they go back to dancing instead.
She knew the stories behind prom nights; she just wished that they didn’t turn out to be true.
Jason left her standing back there while she tried to compose herself, eventually rejoining her friends on the dance floor. The prom went on and she enjoyed herself for the most part with her friends. When everything was winding down, she went to find Jason to ask to be taken home but he was nowhere to be seen. Roland, one of the seniors also attending the party that night, offered to give her a ride but Marianne insisted Jason would be taking her home. Perhaps he had gone to the bathroom or stepped outside for some air? The gym was a bit stifling after all. In spite of her reasoning, Roland stood with her and waited until his friends finally nagged him to head out with them. Marianne thanked him for being so sweet, insisting she was fine and he should go. The reluctance in his expression was endearing. Marianne didn’t budge from the building even as more and more couples left for the night until she overheard some other girls saying that Jason left with Heather Thomson over three hours ago.
Now here she was, without a ride, without a prom date, and without a coat to shield her from the rain-chilled night air. The urge to cry nearly choked the air out of her when she brushed wet curls out of her face. She looked down at glitter staying fast to her fingers and wiped it on her dress with a frustrated groan. Her prom hair was ruined, all the bobby pins and hairspray useless in the downpour, turning the once elegant glitter bomb into a dead, wet animal on top of her head. Marianne resisted tears, fighting them with deep breaths with only her own stubbornness fueling her footsteps anymore. She clacked along on the sidewalk, shivering and dreading the eventual grass she would have to walk through. It meant she had to avoid her thin heels sinking into the mud once the cement ran out.
Another car drove by, Marianne cringing away from the threat of more water and wasn’t left hanging when she felt a new wave of wetness splash against her ankles, the hem of the dress growing heavier and sagging, nearly tripping her next few steps. She groaned, shaking more water out of her shoes and staggering on but the hum of another engine approaching made her surrender, trudging on and bracing for another splash but the car slowed down, barely rolling through the runoff rushing into the storm drain as it came to a stop alongside the pavement a few feet ahead of her. The driver’s side door opened and Marianne looked up, startled to see the familiar long frame of her neighbor unfolding from inside, peering back at her over the roof of the car.
“You’re one of Voclain’s girls…Marianne, right?” he called over, shielding his eyes from the rain. Marianne nodded with a sniff and he ducked back into the car, setting off the hazard lights before he pulled something out of the passenger’s seat and strode through the half-flooded curb to her side. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I-I can walk.” She stated stiffly, though her resilience was diluted by chattering teeth.
“I’m not asking if you can walk.” He frowned, water trickling down his face and even dripping off his long nose. In the glare of the street light he looked ghastly, all sharp angles and cold blue eyes that made another tremor shake her nearly over the edge of the curb in its violence. He was already starting to look soaked standing out there with her in the deluge and she felt a surge of guilt even though stopping had been his own choice. “I’m asking if you want me to drive you home.”
She looked at the familiar black car, Lexus, if she remembered correctly. A typically expensive car but then again, she lived in an expensive neighborhood. She had seen it in his driveway countless times over the years, a stranger’s vehicle that was a mundane part of her own existence. That car was a sign of home, whether it was hers or not. Marianne looked back up at McKinley as he wiped some water out of his eyes before she nodded. He stepped forward and flapped open what looked like a long coat, slinging it around her shoulders before hurrying her to the passenger’s side of the car. Mr. McKinley opened the door for her, something else that Jason had left out of their prom date that night and Marianne eyed him, surprised by the gesture until he gave an impatient wave and she immediately ducked inside. He shut the door the moment her feet were safely inside.
In moments he was getting back into the driver’s seat and shutting the door with a slam. With the cold night shut out at last and rain drumming steady on the hood of the car, Marianne could feel traces of heat spilling through the vents and eagerly reached out towards the closest one, hands pressing onto the plastic slats. McKinley noticed the gesture while in the midst of rubbing his own hands together and blowing on them to warm them up. He switched the heater on high, combing strands of wet hair out of his face before he switched off the hazards and began to drive again. She continued to warm her hands for a while, eventually leaning back into the seat and pulling the coat a little tighter around herself.
Mr. McKinley was a skinny man but the coat still managed to practically drown her when she wriggled her arms into the sleeves. It smelled of chalk and musty books, familiar smells that she knew very well from the classrooms at the high school. So he was a teacher then, or at least spent a lot of time in a classroom anyway. A teacher would have made sense with his hours coinciding almost with her own in when she was home or when she had to go to school. All the years he lived next door to them, she never really knew what he did for a living, nor cared. Yet here he was giving her a ride home and sparing her from the cold and the rain.
Guilt for ignoring this man’s presence most of her teen years made her shrink a little further into the passenger seat.
“Thank you,” she murmured, fingers pinching at the lining of the coat where the sleeves swallowed her hands.
“It’s not exactly out of my way.” He waved off the gratitude. “I’m surprised you’re even walking to begin with. Your father told me this morning tonight was prom. He was looking forward to giving your date a good hazing before you left as a matter of fact.”
Marianne raised an eyebrow. “Dad told you that?”
Mr. McKinley smirked at the road ahead, “Your dad has a habit of bragging about you and your sister whenever we cross paths. Naturally prom would be one of those occasions.”
Marianne grimaced, turning to look out the window while sagging down into the warmth of the coat, letting the fabric swallow her up until she was nose deep in it. It was embarrassing to learn that through the years her father had been bragging to their neighbor about whatever she and Dawn achieved. He must have heard about Marianne’s first honor roll or Dawn’s first ballet recital when she was only eight. Little details that a father would consider a big deal might have found their way across Mr. McKinley’s fence and the man had listened to it all this time.
How embarrassing!
————
“I told you I’m fine, Dawn!” Marianne huffed, rolling her eyes as she flicked the cigarette butt down the alleyway. “Tell dad I’m not lying in the gutter with my throat slit.”
“You’ve been acting really strange since you cancelled the wedding, Marianne.” Dawn whined on the other end of the line, Marianne softening at the worry in her sister’s voice. “What did Roland do?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Marianne frowned, pushing off of the wall and turning to head back into the bar. “Things are over between him and me, that’s all there is to it. Who gets married at nineteen anyway? Go back to studying, Dawn; I know you haven’t finished that essay yet.”
“But I hate essays!”
“Everyone hates essays!” Marianne countered with a grin that she couldn’t fight back at the familiar pains she had to endure in high school. Poor Dawn didn’t know the half of it. Essays were expected in college as well, which was why Marianne was currently out of the academic scene all together, much to her father’s disappointment.
Roland and Marianne started dating in her senior year of high school and it had been great, she wouldn’t lie to herself about that. It was amazing being a high school student dating a college student. Her peers were envious of her achievement and she was just happy she had found a decent guy after a very poor dating history. There were ups as well as downs in her relationship with the college football star but Marianne had endured it all thanks to the belief that she was in love with him. Boy had she gotten the rude awakening when she saw him kissing another girl, the two of them rather cozy right outside of his dorm room at the college. The same dorm room where she had lost her virginity last semester after Roland had waited for two years. She thought he had been patient because he respected and loved her. Turns out he wasn’t I a hurry to coax her into it because he had plenty of ways to relieve his sexual frustration without her.
Bitter after wasting three years swimming through the love haze for a man that didn’t even love her back even though he had asked her to marry him, Marianne went on a rebellious streak. She lost her scholarship to a great college during her downward spiral, leaving her haunting bars (courtesy of a few hundred bucks and a fake ID) and living back at home with her father after she had been kicked out of the dorms. It wasn’t too bad living back at home again but she took care in avoiding her father for the sake of not enduring another lecture about where her life was headed. She knew very well where her life was headed and fully intended to fix it. Just as soon as she felt like it.
By the time she came home, well after everyone had gone to bed that night, Marianne staggered into the front yard after her friends had dropped her off. She wasn’t old enough to drink but the bartenders weren’t the wiser thanks to the wonders of modern technology. Tonight she drank until she felt pleasantly numb to the world, still riding through her buzz when she crossed the lawn and slumped onto the front steps of her house, legs stretched out in front of her and hands slumped in her lap while she tilted her head back to observe the night sky.
“I’m a mess.” She murmured to Orion, the constellation twinkling on without a response but she almost felt like he agreed with her.
A slamming door startled her out of her daze and she looked up to see Mr. McKinley throwing what looked like a bouquet of flowers wrapped in white and clear cellophane down onto the driveway, his fists clenched at his sides as he skipped the stairs to his porch entirely and burst through the front door of his house. He heard shouting even after the door slammed shut and Marianne’s gaze went back to the driveway and the lump lying on the pale cement.
Curious, she pushed herself onto her feet and crossed over to his yard, ignoring the boundaries she had been schooled in since childhood in favor of the package on the driveway. Staggering a little, she managed to eventually pick up the plastic and peered into the cone to see a mixture of flowers. There were white lilies and carnations bruised and wilting from the violent throw down of their previous handler. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of the lilies and was grateful that some of them looked dead beyond saving but the remaining blue roses were plump and healthy, sprinkled with baby’s breath and ferns. Cradling it close, she checked the front door then the flowers again.
Such a waste…
It wouldn’t be until the next morning that McKinley would walk out to his car to go to work that he discovered the flowers from his mother’s poorly planned blind date for him, were oddly absent from his driveway.
————
“Miss Voclain, always a pleasure.” Mr. McKinley stated, not even looking up from his desk when Marianne stood in the doorway to his office, fingers clenching her rolled-up term paper tightly in her fist.
“The hell do you mean my work was ‘dull and rambling?’” Marianne snapped, holding up the paper as she strode into his office and slapped it down in front of him. The paper uncurled bearing the red marks of his grading and his blunt note scrawled at the top of the assignment. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up late to work on that damn paper?”
“As many as any other student, I imagine.” He sighed, pushing the paper aside to continue reading another essay. “Which would be one and only on the night before it was due, written in a caffeine-induced haze, I bet. You’re not the first one of my students to procrastinate, Miss Voclain.”
Marianne’s anger flared at the flat tone he used when regarding the hard work she had put into that paper. He was a history professor and yet he still assigned essays up the wazoo because he wanted his students to really go in depth on their subjects, insisting more research, more evaluation, anything to cram historical events into their heads whether they liked it or not.
Marianne never knew more about the rise and fall of Rome than she did in that moment but to bust her ass on writing it all down only to have it handed back to her requiring a re-write, was infuriating! Sure, she did wait until the last minute to do the assignment but that was because she had other classes she needed to take care of in this tiny community college. Academic probation was a bitch.
When she first signed up for this history class, she thought that the fact Mr. McKinley was her neighbor since she was a kid would earn her some kind of favoritism. He hadn’t been particularly cruel to her over time, even helped her out like neighbors often do, but her expectation was quickly torn asunder by reality. Living within a hundred feet of one another meant nothing to Professor Bo G. McKinley; he was just as passive towards her as any other student and suffered the same degrading remarks whenever she fucked up during his lectures. There was no special treatment because her father was wealthy like she had gotten back at the other university, no pampering, no name dropping. It was just a professor and his student…and she liked that. The blunt grading challenged her but at the same time she could be a little peeved by him calling her writing dull. That was a low blow to her ego.
“What about it is dull?” she finally asked, pushing it back in front of him, wrinkling the other essay she plowed over with her own.
Mr. McKinley sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “Your prose is flat and you don’t put any personal thought into the words. All you do is jot down the facts, cite it then move on. It reads as lazy work from someone that would rather have a car run over their foot than learn something from their own work. If you are going to fill it with empty facts, at least explain why you chose them. You have a brain in that head of yours, I expect you to use it.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what if I told you I wanted you to take these facts and shove them up your ass?” she asked, holing up her paper and tossing it up in the air, the pages fluttering as it came crashing back down to the floor.
“I would say that was very crude of you to put in an academic essay and give you zero credit for it…though I would also find it amusing as hell at the same time.” He smirked up at her and Marianne’s anger flickered, replaced by an odd sensation that left her feeling a little flattered before her anger came back after she reminded herself that the bastard was willing to fail her for speaking her mind as he insisted. Eventually he scooted his chair back from the desk and retrieved her report. Brushing it free of invisible dirt and fixing a bent corner on the cover page, he held it up. “I’ll make a deal with you, Voclain. If you can write an essay with actual thought as well as research put into it. Opinions, facts, and the resources all included, I will replace your current grade with the new one.”
Marianne snatched her essay out of his fingers and folded her arms tightly across her chest. “What do you get out of this if I fail that one too?”
“You never complain about my grading techniques again.”
Marianne agreed to the terms—seeing as she didn’t have much of a choice—and took her red-marked essay with her out of McKinley’s office without another word. She went straight home and immediately set to work on the new essay, keeping her laptop close while writing out the rough draft by hand. The new essay seemed to flow from her fingers this time, her own opinions spilling out into paragraph after paragraph, fueled by her irritation at the jackass of a teacher she had been stuck with. Marianne was well and truly on a roll before she had to go back and insert actual facts into the piece, remembering to cite the information she found on the oh-so-wonderful student forums and the odd social media account and double check her reference page to ensure the information was accurate. The day she finished, she victoriously took it with her to class and after the end of the lecture, followed the rest of her classmates out of the lecture hall. While passing Mr. McKinley’s desk, she dropped the new essay that had absolutely nothing to do with the Roman Empire without a word and strolled right out of there, not once looking back.
McKinley eventually turned over the paper on his desk after he had gathered his things for the afternoon and read the title. For a moment he gawked at the essay before his expression eased into a grin, chuckling low in his throat with concealed amusement.
One Hundred and One Reasons Professor McKinley is an Asshole
Two days later, Marianne sat in her usual spot in the lecture hall only to find her essay waiting for her with a big fat A in the corner.
————
Marianne squeezed her textbook a little tighter when she saw Mr. McKinley as he sat back in his desk chair, hand cupping the back of his neck and jerking his head sharply to the left with an audible crack. The empty lecture hall only seemed to emphasize the sound and she swallowed thickly, hovering just inside of the doorway as she watched him. He looked irritated today, not the usual irritated, this was irritation with a side of genuinely pissed and Marianne shook off her odd fascination with the professor’s neck cracking abilities when she realized he wasn’t alone. There was a woman standing in front of his desk.
Professor Gardenia, if she remembered correctly, had been the community college’s Anatomy 1 instructor for only a few years and she was in her late twenties or early thirties. She was tall and elegant with black hair and blush pink lipstick that emphasized her wide but shapely lips. Marianne suddenly felt like her mouth was too small, her lips pressing together thoughtfully when McKinley rose from his desk, fingertips spread out wide and resting on the surface as he looked the other teacher in the eye.
“Isn’t this a violation of that fifty feet or less rule you so desperately wanted to place against me?” he asked coolly, indicating the space between them as he turned away and focused on erasing the chalkboard.
“I submitted an appeal to have it revoked.” Gardenia sounded remorseful when she spoke up, hands sliding into the pockets of her lab coat.
“Did you now?” McKinley scoffed with a humorless laugh while he continued to erase with long sweeps of his arm.
Restraining order? Marianne’s lips slackened back into their normal shape as her odd fidgets were interrupted by the mention of a legal order against McKinley of all men to keep his distance from Professor Gardenia. She sidled back out of the doorway, leaning into the wall beside the frame, still clutching the textbook close. In all honesty, she had no earthly idea why she was even standing there to begin with. She had no complaints to raise against him and it wasn’t neighborly greetings when she didn’t even have his class that day. They had been pretty good on her grades for a while now but with the semester winding down and finals coming up, Marianne was grasping at the most random of reasons to go see him. She liked his company, he was the most down to earth of all her professors and, hey, she had known him since childhood. That had to count for something to back up her want to at least talk to him, right?
“You came to my house in the middle of the night, what else could I do?” Gardenia asked, Marianne stiffening at the emotion now lacing her words.
A sharp thump against the wall startled Marianne and the gasp that came from inside as well must have meant whatever he threw was effective. “What could you do? You could have told me you didn’t want to marry me in person instead of an email! I went to your house to talk to you about it when you wouldn’t answer my phone calls! I had a right to know, Rebecca!”
The anger and pain in his words were unlike anything she had heard from him before. Marianne knew her neighbor as smug, cynical, but also kind even though he tried to conceal it behind gruff words and false detachment. Hearing hurt in his accent was something Marianne had never witnessed and the fact that it came from the influence of Professor Gardenia left her even more confused than she had been when she first saw her in there. Sliding along the wall, Marianne peered inside and saw that he had thrown the eraser at the wall, a white powder residue left where it had struck. Gardenia’s arms were crossed protectively over her chest, head ducked down with a pregnant pause stretching between them.
“You were the Teacher’s Aid. Do you know what the school would have done if we got married while I was still a student in that class? What it might have done to your reputation and my own?”
Oh hell…this was some soap opera shit here…
“This coming from the woman that left love letters in my home mailbox.” He sneered, shaking his head as he went to retrieve the eraser. Marianne vaguely remembered a pink envelope in the back of her mind but it faded away just as quickly when she was starting to feel a possessive anger surging through her veins. It was unusual to feel so angry at a woman she barely know but her defenses were up, hackles raised.
Pushing off of the wall, she strode into the lecture hall, startling both occupants as she stood in plain sight, hands clutching her book so tightly her fingers ached. If Marianne tried to relax her fingers, she would end up chucking the book at the woman’s pretty head. Seeing as assaulting a professor was kind of a bad thing…she kept holding on but also realized she was standing there in complete silence with two pairs of eyes glued upon her.
Whoops…
“Marianne,” McKinley greeted coldly as he returned the eraser to the track at the base of the chalkboard. “Professor Gardenia was just leaving.”
He shot a pointed look at the woman and she flinched, clearing her throat before she settled into a cool mask of indifference that Marianne knew was a complete farce if the expression she had witness earlier had anything to say about it. “Thank you for your time, professor.” She stated, the man scowling while he sat back down at the desk and collected his papers, hardly aware he was creasing them while trying to tap them into an even stack. Marianne’s eyes followed Gardenia as she strode out of the lecture hall, eventually looking back at McKinley as he laid the papers down with a weary sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What can I do for you, Marianne?”
She snapped out of her stare, not realizing she had been focusing on the tapering of his long fingers. Clearing her throat, she went to the desk and finally released her textbook, slapping it down on the surface and resting her hand on top of it. It was time to say something. Anything. Just don’t ask him what the hell all of that was about!
“Tell me what’s on the final.” It was the first thing that popped into her head. McKinley looked up at her, brow furrowed but instead of anger or weariness, she saw confusion at the bluntness of her declaration. Rubbing his fingers together, he wrapped them in a fist and crossed his arms over the surface of the desk, frowning up at her.
“No.”
Marianne rolled her eyes, burying her previous anger deep and grasping at straws. Something, anything to make his eyes look less sad than his face was letting on. “At least give me a hint.”
“No.” he frowned, pointing his finger at her. “No special treatment. You know that.”
“I could always break into your house and find your files. I know where you live after all.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, trying to shoot for innocence but feeling that she was failing miserably when a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
McKinley was not affected. Instead, his expression turned smug as he gave her a knowing smile that left Marianne’s confidence floundering behind her mask of snark. “I’ll tell your father about that time I caught you sneaking out of your bedroom window when you were fifteen and got stuck on the gutter until your boyfriend helped you down. What was his name again?”
————
“I think I like you.” Marianne whispered, hands grasping the armrests of his chair and pushing it back into the wall, inserting herself between him and the desk by standing between his legs. She placed her hands upon his shoulders, leaning over him but at the same time she forced herself to keep out of his face. She had caught him completely by surprise with her weak confession but it wasn’t until she had shoved the chair back that McKinley looked truly nervous, staring up at her and sagging a bit in his chair. His unintended slouch pushed him closer to her, his thighs brushing against the sides of her legs, which made them jump apart for the sake of breaking the contact and she was left nearly wrecked. Her plan to give him a choice wavered under the urge to just take what she wanted but Marianne stood firm, her hands gripping his shoulders as she resisted the pull.
“Marianne—”
She cut off the panicked gasp of her name when she pressed her fingers over his lips, glancing back at the office door as voices rose then fell as people passed through the hall. As soon as they faded, she looked back into his frightened eyes, wide and anxious. His body was stiffer than a board under her hand still holding his shoulder down. His hands were clutching the armrests of the desk chair, the back still firmly pressed where she had forced it into the wall moments ago. She found it a little difficult to swallow when she thought about what was happening right now. Her eyes lowered to the lips she had silenced, pads slowly tracing the shape of them, all the while wide blue eyes still gawked up at her.
“I don’t want to force you.” She murmured, taking her hands away and holding them in the air to show she wasn’t going to hold him still anymore. “I like you…but I already screwed this up by scaring you.”
Stepping back, she stuffed her hands into her jean pockets, her drive flickering and dying in wake of her shame for practically overpowering him. Her eyes lowered to his shoes, knowing very well that it was too late to take back what she had done. Sighing, she leaned back into his desk while he shifted in his chair, correcting his slouch and walking himself towards her. McKinley stopped toe to toe with her, hands appearing in her line of sight and grasping her upper arms just shy of her shoulders. Marianne lifted her head, meeting his gaze again while he peered up at her.
“Why?” he asked, his gaze curious but still cautious. Even though he could have been asking why she scared him, she felt that it wasn’t the real reason behind his question.
“Do you have to ask?” she laughed humorlessly, shutting her eyes. “I think it’s been stewing inside of me since you gave me a ride home my first prom.”
“That long?” he lowered his hands.
“I think so.” She smiled at him, “So…don’t ask me why this happened. I think you’re smart enough to figure it out.”
He shook his head, running a hand over his face. “You’re putting me in a hard position, Marianne.”
“Is it because I’m a student?”
“More than that,” he dropped his hand into his lap with a weary sigh. “I’ve known you since you were a kid, Marianne…those memories just don’t go away because you’re an adult now.”
Marianne could understand the dilemma. He had seen her when she thought she was a pirate captain in the backyard, gave her Halloween candy up until the last night she would ever go Trick or Treating. Those were the years when she was innocent; untouched by puberty and the wreck that was hormones. He knew about her attempts at rendezvous with boyfriends in high school. Asked her why she dropped out of college after her wedding fell through then met her eye when she walked into his lecture hall during her final return to college with that secret knowing smile on his lips. Bo McKinley knew Marianne in the past but did he really know her now? This person that she had become because love sucked?
“So to you, I’m still twelve?” she asked, biting her lower lip and tasting a bit of the lipstick darkening the sensitive flesh.
“Not exactly,” he stated, Marianne catching something in his gaze at that moment but he looked away before she could pinpoint what it was. “I need time to think on this. I’m not well-practiced with this sort of thing you know.”
“All those blind dates your mom put you through, I think you should be a pro by now.” She tried to put a little lightness in her tone but the awkward air between them stifled it and only left her feeling even more uncomfortable.
“Dates I have covered. It’s taking it past the first one I haven’t wanted to master.” McKinley gestured with his hands as he spoke and Marianne smiled thoughtfully down at him, half-sitting on his desk now and wrapping her fingers over the edge, thoughtfully knocking her heels together while she pondered this predicament she had placed them both in. This is what happens after letting the proverbial cat out of the bag and abruptly unleashing years of pent-up feelings on your friendly neighborhood college professor.
“Why don’t we have a date then?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, observing his furrowed brow as it seemed to wrinkle even more, his eyes darting up from his hands in his lap to her face.
“I can’t,” he held his hands up; “I refuse to date a student. It’s not because you asked, I genuinely haven’t been open to it since I became a professor.”
“Then make a date with me after I graduate, when me being a student is no longer an issue.” She smiled. “I busted my ass before I dropped out of my old college, my old credits are still intact and I only have to finish off these core credits before I graduate.”
The professor leaned back in his chair, his expression perplexed as he regarded the creature sitting before him. It looked like he had finally relaxed from his previous tension but the poor man still appeared uncomfortable. Marianne couldn’t blame him. She was probably coming on a little strong to him but that was how she had decided to handle this situation. There was no point on dancing around the subject. She came clean with him and while he hadn’t told her he loved her back, he hadn’t been entirely dismissive of her either.
“Just a date…right?” he tested her with a risen brow and she smiled, relieved to see that he was caving.
“Just a date,” she confirmed with a nod of her head. “I don’t expect wild declarations of love or spur of the moment sex on your desk because I told you I like you. We’re both adults here, professor. I think a date is perfectly reasonable.”
He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. After thinking it over he eventually focused on her with a remarkably calm expression for a man who was blushing and fidgeting moments earlier. He leaned forward in his chair, pointing up at her while leaning his elbow upon his thigh.
“Graduate with honors and I’ll go on a date with you for your celebration dinner.” He opened up his fingers in a slow spread of digits, presenting his hand to her. Marianne observed it, meeting his gaze while slipping her hand into his and they shook in one firm motion.
“I like seafood and you better not flake out on desert.”
————
Marianne kept her eyes focused on the passenger window; she wanted to keep her face turned away so that Bo wouldn’t see the look of utter satisfaction she bore. He had been there during the graduation ceremony, Marianne walking off of that platform with her diploma in hand and special stole draped over her shoulders. She gave him a cocky grin when she walked past the rows of professors, silently giddy when he smiled back at her, a touch of uncertainty in his features but genuine pride in her accomplishment concealing his trepidation. Now she was in his car, the familiar black Lexus still kept in the same clean condition she remembered it from the night he took her home from that disastrous first prom.
The interior was quiet, not even the radio was on but she could see the vent from the corner of her eye. She ran her fingers over the graduation gown folded up in her lap, thoughtfully tracing a seam while leaning her head against the headrest of the seat, smiling at the passing city beyond the car. Bo had been quiet when she met with him after the ceremony, the professor maintaining a small smile as he indicated with his hand to follow him and she only hit one snag when Dawn and her father chased her down to hug and congratulate her over and over. Marianne eventually excused herself and promised to celebrate with them all day tomorrow but tonight she had somewhere to be. There was no way in hell she was giving up this night when she had worked her ass off to make it happen for two semesters. All the while she endured platonic behavior from the very man behind the wheel, friendly but closed off greetings and stern, public lectures when she fell asleep during the occasional presentation.
Now she had him. It was a date, no promises that things would end with him loving her or even a kiss when he dropped her off, but Marianne still claimed her small victory in this one date with a man she truly wished would love her back eventually. Boyfriends past had no problem in telling her they adored her, they didn’t always mean it but Marianne had craved it. Roland satisfied that craving until the truth came out and she bitterly wanted to dismiss love, not wanting to care about someone loving her back. Then McKinley happened, or maybe he had been happening for a while.
“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked conversationally, keeping her tone bright enough to fit post-graduation elation but not overly bubbly like Dawn would have been at this point.
McKinley maintained his focus on the road, his fingers slipping a little further down the steering wheel. “There is a restaurant on the edge of the woods here. It is the only one I have not been sent to for a blind date and it is the only place I would willingly want to bring one.”
“Does that make me special then?” Marianne prodded, fingers gripping a handful of the graduation gown.
“I promised you a date,” McKinley stated, checking the intersection before guiding the car into a right turn towards the looming woods in the east. “And I believe this place is known to have a decent selection of seafood…”
He remembered her parting words after all.
That’s why I love you.
————
How many dates had it been? Four? Twelve? Thirty-six? Marianne couldn’t remember. All she really knew was that when she went home that night, she was walking into the house next door. She walked up the steps to the familiar front porch without a trick or treat bag or a nervous inquiry about a lost toy on the other side of the fence. Keys unlocked the door and opened it to her and Marianne walked in with no excuse, only a shyly given invitation. The door shut behind her and the fingers laced with those of her right hand slowly guided her through the living room, hesitating near the foot of the stairs to the second level before she gave them a reassuring squeeze. She made the first step on the lowest stair, his own following her tentatively step by step.
“I should get you something to drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
His lips pressed together and he nodded, moving ahead of her up the hallway, his mental map leading the way to their intended destination through the dark passage. Marianne’s heart was pounding but she felt completely at ease beneath the anticipation. Her eyes lingered on the touch of gray in his hair, barely evident in the dark strands. It became a silent game of hide and seek she played with her fingers whenever she combed them through his hair in the midst of a kiss or an affectionate caress to find the gray in the brown. She would undoubtedly seek it out again, tucking the idea away for later and smiling to herself when he opened one of the doors in the hall, letting it swing inward and glancing down at her.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Are you scared?”
“Are you?”
She didn’t need to know the room to understand where they were. She loosened her fingers and with her other hand slipping into the other free one, she now had both of them in hers. Marianne moved around him, backing into the darkness where only moonlight and some invasive yellow glare from a street light found its way through the window on the western wall. Her room was parallel to the one next door, but the window had always been visible from her bedroom all these years. She never knew he was only one room away from being directly across from her all this time. With a quiet laugh at the revelation, she squeezed his hands and backed into the foot of a bed, her heel painfully finding the frame of a footboard that forced them to manipulate to the side where she finally stopped, hands still clasping his and eyes piercing through the darkness, focusing only on the blue gaze staring down at her.
“Marianne…”
“Do you want to do this?” She asked, unflinching. If he said no, she would let him out of it. There was no unspoken rule that this had to happen. Marianne had accepted that fate long ago, but she would be lying if a part of her wasn’t going to be disappointed.
“Yes,” he breathed, his hands slipping away from hers and holding her face in his hands.
Marianne smiled, relief flooding through her and she closed her eyes when careful lips sought hers out in the darkness. She savored the tenderness of them, of him, this man who lived his entire adult life thinking that no woman would want him after the injustice caused by Professor Gardenia. It was her loss and Marianne’s gain to taste the sweetness of his soul through his gentle kisses, her hands cupping over his own and riding the backs of them when he smoothed them down her neck and over her shoulders, lifting hers to comb through his hair just as his touch turned into an embrace that held her to him lovingly.
“Me too.” She whispered against his lips, “So please…trust me with this.”
Her hand slid down to his chest and her fingers splayed over his racing heart. His nose bumped hers then he bowed his face, hiding the emotion that he hoped to conceal in the darkness. Marianne continued to feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against her palm, fingers kneading slightly into the flesh beneath his shirt. In the dark she heard his quiet gasp for air, the struggle to contain the sentiment like he had towards any such feelings as far back as she could remember. His hand eventually touched the back of hers, fingers grasping it and pulling it up to his lips, kissing the tips until she pushed herself on her toes, stealing those kisses away from her digits and keeping them to her greedy lips. With the presence of a strong arm wrapping around her back, Marianne let him lower her down to the bed.