Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance by Adrian J. Smith Page A

Her chestnut hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the back of her head, and Meredith wanted to pull it out and run her fingers through Ainsley’s hair.
    “I told you. I got lost.”
    “Lost where?”
    “What does it matter?” Ainsley grumbled and packed up her bag.
    Meredith walked over to the desk Ainsley was sitting in and put her hands on top of it, leaning over, her face unreasonably close to Ainsley’s. She took in a few slow, deep breaths.
    “It matters because you were more than ten minutes late, which means if you do not have a reasonable excuse it counts as an absence. And I really don’t want to give you an absence this early in the semester if it can be avoided.”
    “What?”
    “It’s the policy of this classroom. Now please tell me why you were late.”
    “I figured if I snuck it later then I wouldn’t end up in a conversation with you.”
    Meredith jerked back, her shoulders set and arms crossed back over her chest as she stared down at Ainsley. Clenching her molars, she turned back toward her things and slung her bag over her shoulder.
    “What would make you think I would treat you differently now than I did before?” Meredith asked, turning around one last time to face down Ainsley.
    “Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”
    Meredith snorted and shook her head. “Hardly. I would have this conversation with any student. But you wouldn’t know that because you haven’t taken one of my classes before.”
    “Probably a good thing,” Ainsley said sarcastically.
    “You know, if you don’t change the attitude it might affect how I treat you. I treat you with respect, and I deserve respect back. Just because you’re upset doesn’t mean I need to be dragged into it with you.”
    Ainsley said nothing in response. She stood up, with her backpack in tow, and looked up and down Meredith’s body. Meredith shivered under the scrutiny, once again thinking about touching Ainsley’s hair and dragging her fingers through it.
    “I’m—I’m upset with myself, not with you.”
    Meredith deflated. Her defenses dropped, and she once again leaned against the desk. That was certainly it; once she focused on Ainsley’s actions rather than what she wanted to do she could see it. Ainsley was embarrassed.
    “Nothing to worry about,” Meredith said. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen someone intoxicated beyond comprehension.”
    “Doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”
    “Well, try not to. I just wanted you to be safer.”
    “I will next time.”
    All the tension that had been in the room disappeared. Well, most of the tension, Meredith corrected. Sexual tension still very present . Ainsley stepped around the desk and looked straight at Meredith. Meredith wasn’t sure what to say or do in the situation. If anything, she should just walk out and leave, but she felt there was more to be said.
    “Good. And don’t hesitate to call me if you need a ride home at some random hour in the night because you were ditched by your best friend.”
    Ainsley chuckled, and Meredith grinned. She’s successfully made the rest of the tension disappear. She stood up and headed for the door, ready to go back to her office and grab Sam for a quick lunch before office hours began.
    “I—I don’t have your number,” Ainsley whispered.
    Meredith turned around, giving her an incredulous look, her eyebrow raised and lips quivering. It was very tempting for her to grab a pen and write it down for Ainsley or pull Ainsley’s hand over to write it on her palm like they really were back in high school, but that would be crossing another boundary—besides, Ainsley did actually have her number.
    “Syllabus. It’s on the front page.”
    “Oh.”
    Ainsley looked utterly disappointed. Meredith sucked in a deep breath and left the room and Ainsley behind, wanting nothing else than to be away from the situation entirely. A few hours of fun with Sam would have her back where she should be.
    #
    The sidewalk