Bright Like Midnight: A Dark College Romance (Savage U)

AT THE END OF commerce, my brain always felt swollen in my skull. Dr. Krasinski had earned his reputation as both a hard-ass and the best teacher at Savage U. He took the semester he had with his students and forced as much information into them as humanly possible.

I’d never been more challenged, but I’d never gotten so much out of a class. When I wasn’t with Zadie or doing my shit for Reno, I was studying and writing for Krasinski.

I walked down the steps of the lecture hall, my brain still buzzing with all I’d heard over the last hour. Zadie and Julien had taken this class last semester, but they’d undersold it in a big way. I was going to have to talk to them about that when I got home this afternoon.

“Mr. Vasquez.” Krasinski stepped into my path. “Do you have a minute?”

I kept my expression impassive. This could be really good or really bad. I hadn’t done shit to make it bad, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be.

“Yes, I do,” I replied, stepping off to the side with him so the flow of students could continue to the exit.

“I received your email last week. I’ve been doing some thinking about your request.”

Krasinski was the recommendation I needed to land a coveted internship at Sparta Inc., the largest import company in Southern California. They took on exactly five interns a year, and my ass planned to be one of them.

“I’m curious about your thoughts,” I said.

He crossed his arms and rubbed his well-trimmed gray beard. “You’ve impressed me so far this semester. The insights in the last paper you turned in were fresh and showed an expert grasp of the material. You’ve also brought a lot to the discussions we have in class. But I have some qualms.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s unfortunate. Can I ask what they are?”

He paused, staring at me for a long beat. “I’ll be blunt, Mr. Vasquez. I asked around about you. While your past teachers all had positive feedback, there are murmurs. No one knows anything concrete, but there’s a shadow that follows your name. I don’t need confirmation from you whether you know what I’m talking about. I’ll assume you do.”

I remained impassive, all while feeling the fire at my feet grow hotter and hotter. The chickens had come home to roost, and I shouldn’t have been surprised, yet I was.

When I didn’t respond, not even with a nod, he went on. “I’d like to consider my recommendation over spring break. I know you need an answer from me, and I will give it to you when classes are back in session, if not before. But for me to associate my name with anyone, I need to be certain, and to be blunt, I’m not certain about you. To be even more blunt, one arrest on your record for the things you’re rumored to be involved in will kill most opportunities in the line of work you plan to go into. Imagine an import business like Sparta trusting their operations to—”

He cut himself off, but the message was received. A company who imported goods from overseas wouldn’t hire someone with a black mark on their record for peddling dope. It was too risky, no matter if the black mark was well in their past. I’d just have to make sure that never happened.

“Thank you.” That was the only thing I could say. “I hear you. I want you to know I take my future extremely seriously. If you decide to give me the recommendation, I will do everything in my power to make sure you don’t regret it. Thank you for considering it.”

There weren’t many men I’d defer to, but Krasinski was one. Not just because of what he could do for me, but because I truly respected him. For the way he taught, but also for having this conversation with me. Given what he’d heard, even if it was half-truths, it couldn’t have been easy for him to say.

It was like pouring acid in my ears to hear.

Fuck.

By the time I walked across campus to my truck and drove home, I was still wrapping my head around my conversation with Krasinski. I didn’t like being told what to do, but he hadn’t. He’d simply been honest about the consequences of the way I made money. He’d held up a mirror and said, “Look at yourself, you dumb fuck.”

But I was already pulling back as much as I could. I’d made a promise to Reno I couldn’t break. I wouldn’t break. My word was all I had in this world, and I’d given it to him.

Fucking shit.

If I screwed over Krasinski, assuming he gave me the rec, there was no going back.

I was stuck here, caught between the present and the future. My future.

I’d just have to be even more careful. Delegate. Lay as low as possible to outrun the shadow behind me.

And I had to survive the next week, waiting for my answer from him. I wouldn’t even have Zadie here to distract me for most of it. She was flying to Oregon on Monday to visit her dad for a few days. I only had the weekend with her, and I intended to claim every second of it.

As soon as I opened the front door, I was assaulted on every level. Warm, garlic-scented air, fast-paced music from the piano, Zadie’s high, smooth voice singing a Melanie Martinez song. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence anymore. Two weeks had gone by since Zadie and I had spent all day and night in her room, and something had shifted between us. The near choke hold I’d felt compelled to keep on her had loosened without me noticing. When she and Julien interacted, I didn’t have to fight off my need to fuck her in front of him to show him who owned her, because all of us knew. I owned Zadie, and she owned me right the fuck back.

Rounding the corner into the living room, I first found Marco kicked back on the couch. He tipped his head to the piano, where Julien and Zadie were side by side, playing together. When she discovered he was the pianist of the house, she’d begged him to let her play our piano. Since neither Marco nor I especially appreciated his music, he’d been giddy to share it with her.

My girl turned her head, the grin that was already on her face brightening. I stood there as she sang about training wheels, moving her fingers over the keys without looking. Julien’s floated over the keys like butterflies. From my uneducated ear, he had mad talent. He’d played for as long as I’d known him. Zadie, of course, sang and played like an angel. Watching her and my best friend happy, making music, my other best friend enjoying the sounds, soothed the bitter, angry mood I was in.

I couldn’t say I didn’t have an ounce of jealousy boiling in my blood. That wouldn’t be true. But I trusted the two of them, so I let it slide and allowed their friendship to cement. I planned on having Julien as a part of my life until we went to the grave, and with the way Zadie had reached into my chest and wrapped her soft little hand around my heart, she just might be there too.

The song came to an end with a dramatic pounding on the keys from Julien. I stuck two fingers in my mouth to whistle my appreciation. Marco gave a slow clap from his place on the couch.

Laughing, Zadie hopped up from the bench and threw herself at me. I caught her, pulling her into my chest, needing her soft more than I realized. I shoved my nose in her hair, taking in her berries and rain and the silk of her curls.

“Hi,” she murmured against my chest.

“Hey, mama. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

Julien got up from the bench with his arms outstretched. “Don’t I get a hug too?”

I cocked my head at Marco. “He looks lonely over there. Go ask him.”

Julien bolted across the room and launched himself into Marco’s lap. Marco shoved him off, sending Julien sprawling to the ground. Zadie swiveled in my arms when he knocked the coffee table onto its side.

“He’s impervious to damage,” I told her. “He falls, and he bounces. Been that way since he was a toddler.”

Julien sprung up and took a bow. “I think I stuck the landing.”

“Fucking aces, man,” Marco agreed.

I buried my nose in Zadie’s hair again. “What’s cooking in the kitchen, mama?”

“I’m roasting garlic right now. In a little bit, Marco and I are going to make risotto.”

I turned her around to face me again, holding her shoulders. “Marco? As in the Marco who lives in this house? The kid who can’t make toast?”

She nodded, grinning. “That Marco. He claims he can’t cook, so I told him I’d teach him. When I get back from Oregon, we’re conquering salmon.”

“Have you domesticated us? Is that what’s happening here?”

She gave an innocent shrug, but I saw through her. Zadie wasn’t required to cook for us anymore, but she still did a few times a week because she liked it. What she didn’t do was change my sheets. I’d learned my girl could hold a grudge, and every so often, she brought up my slutty sheets, even though she was the only one who’d been in them in a long time. So I changed them now, and she watched.

Utterly domesticated. It came with copious blow jobs, a plump ass parked on my dick pretty much any time I wanted it, and a sweet girl who touched my face as she was falling asleep, so I wasn’t even complaining.

I pulled Zadie into the kitchen, backed her into a cabinet, and took her mouth. She responded immediately, curling her arms around my neck and rising on her toes so she could get to me. Lips parting, she invited me inside, and I went, sucking on her tongue and lips, licking her mouth. I’d needed this, to sip from her sweetness, drink her nectar, remind me of what was vital.

“Mama…you taste too good,” I rumbled against her lips.

“I like when you taste me like that.”

“Can’t get enough.” I took a breath, staring down at her. “I’m going to take you dancing tomorrow.”

“Okay.” She blinked up at me like she was trying to remember where she was. She got that look when I kissed her for a long time. She lost her sense of place and time entirely. This fucking girl. “The same place? I loved that night.”

“No.” I took her chin between my fingers. “We’ll go back when there’s rain in the forecast. Need to get caught in the rain with you again.”

She huffed a laugh. “We could just have Julien spray us with the hose.”

My forehead wrinkled. “You want him being there when I fuck you?”

She shook her head fast. “No, I do not. I’d never be able to look at him again.”

I grinned at her, my shy Zadie, only wild for me. “I’m taking you to a club. Gonna show you off.”

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” I pushed her hair behind her ear. “Did Deacon give you any trouble today?”

“No. He doesn’t even look at me anymore. I imagine being glowered at by you a few times a week wasn’t something he wants to continue. And I really doubt he had any desire to get up close and personal with you.”

I scoffed. “Me? I’m a lamb. Nothing to be afraid of.”

It’d been a month since Zadie had last received a poem. She’d relaxed, but her guard was always up. I’d caught her checking over her shoulder more than once or running her hands over her arms to smooth out goose bumps. The only thing that was stopping me from eviscerating this Deacon fuck was Zadie begging me not to. There wasn’t much I’d deny her. As long as Deacon kept away and quiet, he wouldn’t be hearing from me. But if he even thought about taking another shot at her, all bets were off. There was only so far a man could be pushed before he had to step up and say enough.

Zadie nipped at my chin. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good.” I tapped her forehead with mine. “You have nothing to be afraid of when you’re with me.”

Her pretty blue eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you going to tell me why you looked so angry when you first got home? Did something happen?”

I exhaled through my nose. Normally, I liked that Zadie was attuned to me and my moods, but this wasn’t one of those times. Discussing what Krasinski had said to me would only lead to her worrying or questioning my job. Both options were unacceptable to me.

“I had to remind myself I didn’t want to rip Julien’s head off for being so close to you. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Two words so loaded with skepticism, I almost buckled.

But this topic wasn’t for Zadie, and that was for her own good.

“That’s all.”