Bab 6: A Tinder Offer
The kitchen was as immaculate as the rest of the house, all clean lines and neat surfaces. Professor Davenport moved around with an ease that suggested familiarity, opening a cupboard and taking out a box of dry crackers.
"Here," he said, handing me the box. "These should help settle your stomach." His fingers brushed against mine as he gave me the crackers, the brief contact sending a jolt of electricity through me.
"Thank you," I murmured, taking the box from him. My own fingers trembled slightly as I held it, the effect of his touch lingering on my skin. I sat down at the kitchen table, watching as he moved around the kitchen with an easy grace, pulling out a glass and filling it with water.
He handed me the glass of water, his gaze holding mine for a moment longer than necessary. I took the glass, the coolness of the water a stark contrast to the warmth that was building in me as I sat there under his watchful eye.
"Eat slowly," he instructed, leaning against the counter opposite me. "You were quite drunk last night. I don't want you making yourself sick." There was a touch of concern in his voice that made my heart flutter.
"Eat slowly," he instructed, leaning against the counter opposite me. "You were quite drunk last night. I don't want you making yourself sick."
There was a hint of admonishment in his tone, but there was also a touch of concern that made my heart flutter.I nodded, breaking off a cracker and taking a tentative bite. The dry texture was strange on my tongue, but it did seem to settle my stomach somewhat. I took another bite, acutely aware of Professor Davenport's eyes on me the entire time. I tried to concentrate on the crackers, on the way they were easing the nausea that had been lingering since I woke up. But his presence in the kitchen was intoxicating, the air crackling with electricity between us. I could feel his gaze on me, studying me, as I sat there eating.
The silence between us was heavy, filled with unspoken words and unnamed desires. I could feel the tension building, growing tighter and tighter, like a rope being pulled taunt. I took another sip of water, trying to wet my dry throat, but it only served to heighten the awareness of him.
Professor Davenport's voice broke the silence in the kitchen, his question cutting through the charged atmosphere. "So," he began, his gaze fixed on me. "What are you going to do now?"
I knew instantly that he wasn't talking about the crackers or my current state of well-being. He was asking about the boyfriend I had caught cheating on me.
My response was hesitant, my thoughts still muddled from the night before and the current situation. "I don't know yet," I replied truthfully. "But I do know that I...I need to find a new place to stay."
"I can't stay with him anymore," I continued, my voice soft but firm. "There's no way I can go back after what he did." Just speaking the words aloud sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through me. I was done being taken advantage of, done being someone's punching bag.
"I've given that man so much," I said, my voice growing louder in my frustration. "And this is how he repays me." The cracker I was gripping between my fingers suddenly broke in two, the sound loud in the otherwise silent kitchen.
I was angry, angrier than I had been in a while. The injustice of it all, the fact that someone could just discard me like I was nothing, made my blood boil. But there was more to it than that; there was hurt and humiliation too. I was feeling like a fool, a gullible girl who had let herself be used and betrayed.
Professor Davenport's response was immediate and blunt. "He's stupid," he said, his tone one of mild disdain. "To have someone as devoted and loyal as you and throw it away for something fleeting and meaningless."
I looked up at him in surprise, my anger dissipating as his words sunk in. He regarded me with a mixture of understanding and admiration, and for a moment, I felt seen. He understood the depth of my feelings and how much I had invested in the relationship. And he wasn't mocking me or calling me naive; he was simply acknowledging the truth of my devotion.
"You deserve better," he said quietly, his eyes holding mine. "Someone who will appreciate and value you. Who will never take you for granted or hurt you like he did."
Professor Davenport's hand reached out, his touch light and gentle as he tucked a strand of my damp hair behind my ear.
"As for where you'll stay," he said, his voice quiet but firm, "you can stay here until you figure everything out."
My heart skipped a beat at his words, a mixture of gratitude and disbelief washing over me.
My skepticism was evident in my expression, and I found myself asking, "Are you sure?" Professor Davenport's words were generous, but the implications of staying in his house, living with him, was significant.
"Completely sure," he replied without hesitation. "I have an extra room, and I won't take no for an answer." His tone was gentle but insistent, leaving no room for argument.
"Besides," he leaned a little closer to me, his voice dropping a hint lower. "I don't mind having you around. In fact."
His gaze moved over me, taking in the sight of me in his clothes, the oversized material clinging to me like a second skin. "I quite enjoy it."
His words sent a shiver down my spine, the subtle shift in his tone sending a thrum of heat through me. There was a hint of possession in his gaze, an almost primal satisfaction at having me there in his space, wearing his clothes, within his reach.
Gratitude washed over me as I looked at him, the reality of my situation hitting hard. "Thank you," I said, feeling a wave of relief at the offer he had made. "I...I really appreciate it. I don't have anywhere else to go at the moment."
Professor Davenport's expression softened as he heard my words. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice still warm but with an edge of protectiveness. "You won't be homeless on my watch."
I gave him a small, grateful smile. The thought of having a place to stay for now, even if it was with him, was a weight off my shoulders. But at the same time, a part of me was nervous. Staying at his house, sharing his space...it was unfamiliar territory.
"I'll try not to be too much of a burden," I said, the words coming out a bit more hesitant than I had intended. "I don't want to impose or overstay my welcome."
Professor Davenport's lips curled into a small smile. "Don't worry about that," he said, waving off my concerns. "It's not an imposition. I offered, remember? And you won't be overstaying or being a burden. I mean, it's not like you snore or anything."
A small laugh escaped me at his comment, the light humor lifting some of the tension. "I don't snore," I assured him, a hint of amusement in my voice. "Or drool. I promise not to do either while I stay here."
Professor Davenport's hand suddenly moved, reaching for a dry cracker and breaking it in half. Without warning, he pushed a piece into my mouth, the sudden action taking me by surprise.
"As for the drooling part," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "I guess we'll have to see about that."
I chewed on the cracker, the bland taste a stark contrast to the heat that simmered in his gaze. His words were delivered in a low, almost seductive tone, sending a thrill down my spine. Was he...flirting with me?
….
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