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

outside the humanities building was bustling with people when Ainsley got there. The brick walkway made her trip twice before she reached the cement sidewalk leading to the library. Adam was inside, once again, studying for his senior thesis. She pushed open the door, swiped her ID card and searched around for him.
    By the time she made it to the third floor in her search, she was huffing from having to climb so many steps. She paused at the top and looked around as far as she could see. There were desks in the center of the floor, but there were also desks all along the wall. Ainsley heaved a breath when she didn’t see Adam and walked the perimeter, hoping to catch sight of him. She made it around the whole level twice before his head popped through the shelves and he smiled at her.
    “Jesus, Adam,” she whispered. “That’s not cool.”
    “It’s hilarious,” he whispered back.
    Glaring, Ainsley put her foot down. “Lunch now. I need to talk.”
    “Cafeteria?” he said, leading her back to his things.
    “No, somewhere else. I need to get away from here.”
    “Okay. My pick?”
    She narrowed her eyes when he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Are you driving?”
    “Sure.”
    “Then yes, you can pick.”
    “Denny’s!”
    Ainsley groaned and walked ahead of him to the stairs. At least going down them wasn’t as gruesome as going up. They made it out of the library and down to his car, getting in and driving mostly in silence to the nearest Denny’s.
    They had their food before she said anything. Adam was shoving his face full of breakfast, and Ainsley was just moving hers around the plate. She had no idea how to open the conversation, but she better do it soon otherwise Adam would do it for her.
    “I have a problem.”
    “What is it?” he stopped eating and grabbed her hand, his face so serious.
    She felt guilty for making him worried so quickly. Ainsley shook her head. “Not like that. Remember last week when we were talking about your economics prof?”
    “Yeah…”
    “Well…I like…I like one of my profs.”
    “Ainsley! You scoundrel.”
    “It’s not funny,” she said, smiling. “It’s not just this simple crush either. Or at least, it doesn’t seem to be. I can’t get her out of my head.”
    “Who is it?”
    Ainsley narrowed her eyes and looked around the restaurant, hoping to see a student so she wouldn’t have to tell him. When no one was there, she leaned in and whispered, “Meredith Frenz.”
    “Your English prof?”
    “Yeah.”
    He whistled and sat back in the booth, looking at her and shaking his head. “She’s one hard bitch.”
    Ainsley pulled a face, thinning her lips and puffing out her cheeks while narrowing her eyes at him. She knew he’d say that. The rumors about Meredith Frenz as a professor were not of the highest quality. Though learning had never been in question; it was her grading methods and expectations.
    “I can’t stop thinking about her.”
    “Yeah? Maybe you should…you know…” he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Older woman and all.”
    “Really? That’s your advice. Go ahead and do it.”
    “Why not?”
    “For one she’s my professor. She affects my grade. Two, she’s my professor! I mean really, I couldn’t.”
    “Couldn’t or wouldn’t? I think, in all honesty, if it’s something you want to pursue long term then try and do it. But I wouldn’t touch it if this is just a booty call thing. That with profs who aren’t into it can be very dangerous.”
    “Yeah,” Ainsley said and sighed, finally taking a bite of her hash browns. “I just can’t get her out of my head.”
    He snorted. “That doesn’t sound like you at all.”
    “I know. I’ve done the quick thing, but this…this feels so different. I want to be careful with what I do and say because I just don’t want to mess it up, and I was so afraid I messed it up this weekend.”
    “This weekend? What about this weekend?” He was back to shoveling food into his