JAYA

I didn't tell Mav about the other worry plaguing me-namely, my upcoming meeting with my biological father-but he must have deduced that there was more because, throughout our dinner, he made it a point to make me laugh.

Maybe I'm basic, but his retellings of the crazy frat parties he's been to and the shenanigans that he's been a part of in the last month had me dying laughing so much that I couldn't even catch my breath at a point.

We stayed at the dining hall long enough for him to force me to eat the broccoli I never got to eat that first day we met and for my friends to FaceTime and meet him, laughing and making fun of him like long-lost siblings until Sera's line mysteriously cut when Mav jokingly made a pass at her.

Emphasis on mysteriously because while she claims that she has no idea what happened, we all heard Aristide's irritated voice before the line went out, confirming our suspicions that her man was the reason for her abrupt departure.

Now, as I shut the door behind me and try not to think too deeply about the fact that the text I sent Fin hours ago asking when he'd be heading back home went unanswered, viewed, and unanswered, I almost don't notice Hannah laying on my bed until I'm standing in the middle of the room.

"Hannah?" I step closer to her when I notice her shoulders are shaking. She's turned the opposite way, so I can't see her face, but given how she's huddled under my covers, I can imagine the look on her face. "Hans? Are you okay, sis?"

I turn to look at her side of the room, my eyes latching onto the stacks of papers on her bed. I glance at her shaking form on my bed once more before stepping toward her bed and picking up one of the many papers.

Upon closer inspection, I notice that the papers are not just regular paper, they are Strathmore's 400 Series Drawing Paper, arguably the best drawing papers for graphite pencils.

A face, smiling and sweet as ever gazes back at me, the lines of the drawing expert and smooth, drawn not only by a seasoned artist but also an artist whose care is infused in every single detail.

I pick up another sketch, this one also depicting my roommate with her hair in a messy updo and her face serious and hard, as if she's annoyed with the person that is so dedicatedly drawing her.

There are at least twenty more drawings scattered around her bed, all of them excellent, and all of them of her.

Apart from the subject of the drawings, they also all share a blackened corner as if someone began burning every one of them but quickly backtracked when the paper started to catch fire.

"That tweed-jacket-wearing-ass professor," I curse out, turning to look at my poor roommate who couldn't even wallow in her own bed due to those drawings.

"I-I love him, Jaya," she croaks out from underneath my blanket. "I let myself fall for him. And now . . . I-I'm broken. He broke me."

I drop the drawing back on her bed and go toward her. "Hannah, no. No, no, no. You're not broken. A man cannot break you. A person cannot break you."

Since she doesn't want to turn around and look at me, I pull up the blankets and get in behind her, rearranging myself until I'm engulfing her in my arms. As more tears shake through her body, I simply hold her, wishing so hard that I could hold her tight enough to make her feel whole again.

Because she might not be truly broken, but it doesn't mean that the heartbreak doesn't feel as real and physical as a wound. A deep and painful wound. I've never experienced the pain of heartbreak, but I've seen firsthand the unabashed scars that it leaves.

"Tell me what happened, sis," I ask her when the tears dry up. Hannah is the type of person who deals with things by talking through them, so I feel that I need to get her to talk. "Last thing I heard, things were going well. What did he do?"

Hannah, who is usually not opposed to sharing, has been quite tight-lipped about her relationship with the professor, which makes sense due to its forbidden nature, but still, tears and disappointment are a left turn from the happiness she'd expressed over text to me two days ago.

"Things were going fine." She sighs deeply, wistful at the short but impactful memories. "Amazing, actually. I-I didn't even really want to allow him to make me fall, but he caught me off guard, and I fell."

I squeeze her hard and speak against her hair, "What did that tweed-jacket-wearing-ass do?"

She doesn't even let out a snort at the nickname I give him, which is concerning on its own, but then she lets out a whimper that completely wrecks me because Hannah, my larger-than-life fabulous roommate, does not allow men to make her become a shell of herself.

This is bad.

"That's the thing-I don't know! He just . . . just said he couldn't do this anymore. As if we had a seven-day trial and he decided that he just couldn't afford us anymore."

"I'm going to kill him," I pronounce honestly, pondering about the most effective way to butcher someone with a paintbrush. "Slow and painful. Then I'll find the largest canvas known to man and draw your beautiful face on it with his blood."

Finally, she snorts. Still not a chuckle, but at least she acknowledges my joke, which is something. A step in the right direction to get her back where she needs to be.

"What do you need, Hans? I'm not good at this because I can't understand the pain of what you're going through, but anything you need, I'm here."

"It just hurts so much, Jaya. Like my heart's not there anymore. Like it's been literally ripped from my chest."

I rub her arm gently as she shudders. "Your heart is still here and beating as strong as ever, Hannah. It's still here, sturdy as fuck and ready to take on the world. I need you to remember that, honey."

Her voice is lower than I've ever heard it, and for the hundredth time in five minutes, I wish I could slice Truman's neck open. "Y-Yeah?"

"Fuck yes, sis. Your heart is still here and beating strong and steady. Just hold on to that for me, okay?"

She is quiet for a second, then, almost with difficulty, she croaks out a barely audible yes. And at this moment, it's all she needs to commit to, so I lapse into silence and hold her as she slowly falls asleep.

When her breathing has evened out and the shivers have finally stopped, I carefully get up from the bed and change out of my clothes, sloppily readying myself for bed as efficiently as I can in the dark.

My phone lights up from on top of my desk, and I practically run to get it in hopes that Fin has finally texted me back. When indeed it is a text from his contact, I can't keep my damned heart from fluttering in both relief and happiness.

Once again, my patheticness is showing.

Finley: Something came up so I'm not sure when I will be able to leave work. Don't stay up too late, sweetheart. Dream of me.

Irrationally annoyed with the fact that he took so long to respond when he'd opened the text minutes after I'd sent it and that he's not even in a rush to come to me, I enjoy the satisfaction of the knowledge that he'll be pissed once he realizes I'm not staying at his apartment.

_____

I wake up with a start, confused for a second about where the hell I am because I'm so used to Fin's layout that my room's decor feels like a stranger's.

My eyes drift to my left, landing on Hannah's sleepy face as she snores away huddled between the wall and my body.

She might be sleeping, but even now her face appears troubled, twitchy and fatigued as if the last twenty-four hours have drained her.

As usual when I wake up, I reach out to my bedside table for my phone and when I unlock it, I'm instantly greeted with five missed calls and several texts from Fin. They were sent about four hours after his text last night.

Finley: You're not in my bed, Jaya. Why the fuck aren't you in my bed?

Then five minutes later.

Finley: The only reason why I'm not coming to your dorm is because I don't want to disturb your sleep. Just know that I'm pissed. Very pissed.

Then an hour later.

Finley: I can't sleep without you here. Now I have to stare at your pictures for hours before I can rest. Thank you for that.

As I'm reading the messages all over again because I'm pathetic like that, another one comes through, stealing all my attention.

Finley: Good morning, baby. Eat breakfast, please. I'll be at work for most of the day. Keep me updated on your meeting with Charles.

Finley: I can see that you've just viewed the messages. You better text me back, Jayakaiya.

Me: Good morning. I'll be eating a granola bar for breakfast. Have a good day <3

Fin hates the idea of eating granola bars or any form of energy snack and processed food for breakfast. Hell, if he doesn't cook it himself, making the whole thing from scratch, Fin does not believe in it.

I'm of the belief that it's a byproduct of being born and raised wealthy as fuck.

Us middle-class folks who couldn't afford in-house cooks and housekeepers growing up know the value and beauty of a packed and processed breakfast.

Finley: I'm coming to your dorm.

Me: Nooo. I was joking!! I'll make some oatmeal. Go to work and I'll see you later.

Finley: Call or text if anything at all. Anything, Jaya. You know the drill.

The drill is: call him if any emergency comes up. Anything at all. Like, even if I feel like an emergency might be coming up, I should call him.

Me: Yeah yeah. Have a great day, sweetie pie.

Finley: Send me a voice note calling me 'your sweetie pie' and maybe I'll have a great day.

I snort a laugh at his words, covering my mouth so I don't wake up sleeping beauty next to me because the girl badly needs rest.

She kept waking up in the middle of the night shaking like a leaf, not going back to sleep until I'd wrap my arms around her and squeeze. She did it three times before I just kept my hands wrapped around her.

Hannah is a people person, it's clear that she needs this physical touch to find her way back to herself. I might not be able to give her much else, but I'll hug her for hours if that is what she needs.

Making sure she's still sleeping, I slowly push myself up out of the bed, slide my feet inside my fluffy slippers and unlock the door with my phone in hand. It's eight in the morning on a Tuesday, and though some people have eight-thirty classes, our floor is deserted.

I push open the door of the single bathroom and lock it behind me, happy to be the first one to use the restroom and breathe in the fresh scent of pine the janitor used on the floor. Do I have a thing for clean, freshly scented restrooms? Yes, I do. Don't ask.

I walk toward the toilet and sit without pulling my pants down, my thoughts on the audio message I should send Fin. Because I'll overthink it if I don't just do it, I hold down the voice note icon and just send him the first thing that comes to mind.

"Have a great day, my sweetie pie."

Gosh, we're so disgustingly sappy. I almost roll my eyes at myself, but I'm too busy cheesing hard as hell to do that.

Not even a full ten seconds after I send the voice note, he's calling me. I can't help but laugh in disbelief. This man is something else entirely.

"Hello?"

"Jaya," he grits out, sounding angry and bothered.

"Good morning, sweet-"

"Are you trying to get me reported to HR?"

I frown. "Wait, what?"

"That damn audio you just sent, Jaya. I'm hard as a rock and I have a meeting in five minutes. Should I walk in there with a tent in my pants?"

I try, but I can't help the giggles. "Please, no one told you to listen to it right now." I use my shoulder to hold my phone against my ear so I can slide my pants down, finally peeing after holding the stream all night.

"So I was just supposed to let it burn a hole in my pocket?"

"You could have saved it for later. Easy peasy."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, then he's back to gritting his words. "Are you peeing right now?"

I bite my lip, silent for a second. "Ummm, I might be . . ."

He groans, and I imagine him sliding a hand through his hair and leaning back on his chair, beautifully frustrated. "Fuck, Jaya. Fuck."

"Is that sexy? The fact that I'm peeing while on the phone with you?" I ask him, quite curious as to what exactly is doing it for him.

"Yes." I hear rustling coming from his side and I don't ask, but I know he's doing something that he shouldn't be doing in his office. Especially not when he has a meeting in a couple of minutes.

"Mm, really?" I lower my voice, unintentionally making it so he's letting out another groan. "A pee fetish and an eating fetish. I don't know, Fin. You might be a little too odd for me."

"I'm perfect for you," he hisses out, his voice deep and pained. "Tell me what you're doing."

I reach for toilet paper and wipe myself, obliging to his request because why the hell not? "I just reached over for toilet paper and I'm wiping myself now."

"Jaya." I hear his palm sliding up and down his cock, his breath shallow and quick. "You wipe yourself twice, don't you?"

Maybe I should be a bit disgusted given that my peeing routine is somehow hot for him, and the fact that he seems to know my wiping habits, but I'm not. Instead, I just reach over for more toilet paper and chuckle.

"Yes, I do."

"Why?"

I shrug even though he can't see me. "I just like to be really dry, I guess? I don't know. Maybe just the idea of remaining liquid potentially running down my thigh doesn't sound too appealing. Although . . ." I pull my pants up and flush.

"Although?" The word sounds pained coming from him, and I hear his movements growing more frantic.

"I do like it when your cum slides down my thigh." I shrug again, ignoring the string of curse words he lets out. "When you fill me up so much that I can't do anything but let it run down. I love that actually."

"Fucking hell, Jaya. That's enough, please I can't take it any-"

I smirk to myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. "I guess that's different from pee, though."

He's breathing hard and groaning, finding his release with a strangled, "Jaya."

I hold back the laughter and ask as innocently as I can, "Maybe when you get off of work you can stop trying to give me space and fuck me like you're supposed to?"

"Jaya-"

"I get that you didn't tell me a lot of things and are still holding back, but I think that I can be pissed at you while your cock is inside me, right?"

"Jaya, I-" I hear more rustling on the other end of the line, then his muffled voice is talking to someone else. "Yeah, give me a second. I'll be right there."

I sigh and rinse my hands. "You should go to your meeting, Fin. We'll talk later."

"No, wait. Shit, Jaya." He's clearly flustered and thrown off by my words. "It's not that I want to give you space, it's just that . . . I thought that it would be what you'd want and it would help-"

I hear another knock on his door, cutting off his words. "I said give me a fucking second, Marienne!" he booms, his voice uncharacteristically furious that I bet his secretary must be shocked.

Softly, I tell him, "Fin, it's okay. Just go to your meeting. We'll talk later, yeah?"

He sighs deeply, but after a silent moment, he agrees, "Yeah, okay. We will. We'll talk later."

We hang up the line with a million things left unsaid and a million other things looming on the horizon-my meeting with Charles, his scars, and what feels like his thousands of secrets-but I think we both drop the line feeling like we're on the same team.

And that's enough for now.

______

Forty minutes later, after I've taken a shower, dressed up, brushed my teeth, and eaten a granola bar, I'm fastening my chain and coming to an obvious but slightly alarming realization-being back in the dorm feels odd. Almost uncomfortable and foreign.

It's weird that I felt more at home at the Barton Hotel suite in Miami than in my dorm room, right?

And I think it has more to do with who's there than furniture and decor. Fin's apartment is home now because of his presence. He makes it home.

"Are you heading out?"

I turn to Hannah, who's sitting on my bed with a bowl of cereal I made for her in her hands and her computer on her lap. I nod even though she's asked me this question five times already in the last hour.

"Yup. I have that meeting with my advisor," I lie easily because explaining who Charles is right now would be a whole headache. "Will you be alright?"

She waves me off and attempts a smile that does not reach her eyes. "Of course, of course. I've been dumped, it's not like my heart has been ripped from my chest or anything."

"Oh, Hannah." I stop fiddling with my chain and walk to her side of the room, engulfing her in a hug while being mindful of her cereal. "I'm so sorry, sis."

"Yeah." She sighs and nods, her voice thick with emotion. "Me too."

"But you know he didn't deserve you, right? You're too fabulous for him."

She sniffles. "Yeah?"

I lean back from the hug and shake her slightly. "Fuck yeah."

She finally smiles more believingly even as a tear rolls down her cheek. "I-I'll have to see him in class tomorrow."

I nod and shake her once more. "And you're gonna make him sweat his ass off as he tries to teach, aren't you?"

She bites her lip undecidedly, looking very opposed to that particular idea. "Or, I could just sleep in and ignore him for the rest of the semester?"

"Nope. You're going to make him sweat." I pat her head, which is currently a mess of tangles and gel. "Don't you worry, sweetie. We'll make that tweed-jacket-wearing-ass professor pay. Even if it's the last thing we do."

And I mean it wholeheartedly. Tomorrow, Hannah will be strolling into her class looking hotter than she's ever looked and make all the guys throw themselves at her as Truman watches in horror.

I might respect the man and even admit that he's a good professor, but chasing my friend for a few weeks and making her fall in love with him only to randomly backtrack for unknown reasons makes him an automatic enemy in my book.

"I don't want to wear anything tight or too revealing, though," Hannah complains to me, already knowing the direction my head is working toward.

I continue patting her head softly. "Oh, don't you worry your pretty little head, darling. I've got you."

She will be wearing something tight, and it'll reveal her assets quite well, too.

_______

A/N: Hope you're all doing well! I finally planned out the remaining chapters, and if everything goes right, there should be eleven more chapters in this story! So we'll be ending right at Chapter 60 with the Epilogue.

More great news: I'll be going on Winter Break in two weeks, meaning that I'll have over three weeks to write for longer periods of time. IF everything goes how I want it to, I believe we could end this story by January!! ❤️