Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance (22 page)

Ainsley came back up with a sway to her hips and sat next to Meredith, stealing part of the blanket when she did. Meredith stretched her legs out on Ainsley’s lap and rested her head against the back of the couch. She set her wine glass on the floor and reached for Ainsley’s hand, grasping it tightly.

“What do you like to read?” Meredith asked. They’d discussed the issues of literary critique, but they hadn’t ever discussed what they read. Meredith was curious what books Ainsley would find interesting on a personal level.

“What you assign me for class.”

“Not that,” Meredith said, rolling her eyes. “For fun, what do you read for fun?”

Ainsley popped her lips and grinned. “No one you have ever heard of, I’m sure.”

Meredith sat up straighter. “What makes you say that?”

“I read independent authors, mostly. Small press published, self-published. I have a whole slew of books on my kindle from people who are unknown and often comfortable with that.”

“Oh? Like who?”

“You won’t know them.”

Meredith squeezed Ainsley’s fingers and closed her eyes briefly. “Try me. You never know. I’ve read a small author a time or two in my life.”

“Fine.”

Meredith knew that if Ainsley rattled off half a dozen names she probably wouldn’t know even one of them. But she wanted the conversation to continue, wanted to learn as much about Ainsley as she could, and reading and love of literature was something they both had in common.

“My favorite indie author is K. P. Schilling. I’ve read all of her books except the last few that were released this summer. I didn’t get to them before the school year started, so that means I’ll binge read them over the Christmas break. I’ve also read…”

Ainsley continued, but Meredith stopped listening. Fuzz echoed in her ears, and she didn’t catch a word of what Ainsley had said. It wasn’t until Ainsley shook her head and laughed at her that Meredith was able to focus on her again.

“See? I told you that you’d never heard of them before.”

Meredith took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. “Did you say K. P. Schilling in there?”

“I did. My favorite author. Why?”

Meredith’s heart hurt so much from the tension. She rubbed a hand along the top of her chest and then moved to sit up and not touch Ainsley. She took a deep breath before standing and walking to her office without saying anything. Ainsley followed her, and when she turned the light on in her office, Meredith went straight to the bookshelf.

“Sit down,” Meredith said.

Ainsley sat on the day bed in the corner of the room and waited while Meredith picked up one of the paperback copies of her newest release.

“You should have told me you enjoyed gay fiction,” Meredith said, sitting next to Ainsley. She handed Ainsley the book and then waited for a reaction.

Ainsley looked it over, her eyes growing wide as she flipped the book over and over in her hands. “Oh my God! This is her newest one. I didn’t know you read her books. You like gay fiction?”

“I do,” Meredith said, her heart still in her throat. It wasn’t quite the reaction she had expected, but then again, she hadn’t been very clear in what she’d been saying to Ainsley. “I read gay fiction, and I write gay fiction in my spare time. I am K. P. Schilling.”

Ainsley said nothing. Her eyes were as wide as saucers, and she just stared at Meredith with a terrified expression on her face. Meredith swallowed and calmed, knowing if she had met her favorite author she would probably be having close to the same reaction. Sleeping with her favorite author and she would probably have a heart attack and run out the door.

“You’re lying,” Ainsley said.

“I’m not. Why would I lie? I released this book on June first of this summer. I released its sequel on August first, and a new series in July. I spent the entire summer immersed in my releases and marketing. It was exhausting. I was actually a bit glad to get back to the school year and the normalcy of teaching.”

“You’re lying,” Ainsley repeated.

“I’m not. I’ve been writing under this pen name for almost ten years.”

“I—I can’t believe it.”

“Why not?”

“Because—because you’re a lesbian!”

Meredith laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. She shook her head as her laugh reverberated through her chest and into her stomach. She fell back on the bed, giggles still erupting from her. Meredith sat back up and grabbed Ainsley quickly by the cheeks, landing a kiss on her lips before brushing away the tears from her laughter.

“You’re a lesbian who reads gay romance. Be honest, why can’t I write one?”

“You—there’s no reason. I just—that’s not what I would expect. Why don’t you write lesbian romance or something?”

“I’ve thought about it. Maybe I’ll give it a try in the spring when I have more time.”

Ainsley fell silent. Meredith let out a breath, knowing her decision had already been made. Spring would ensure she had far more free time than she had that fall. Meredith watched carefully as Ainsley flipped the book around in her hands, reading the front and back covers several times before she turned and looked at Meredith.

“What is it?” Meredith asked.

“Can I—can I have an autograph? Adam will never believe me.”

“You can’t tell Adam.”

“I know, but he’d never believe me either way.”

Meredith bit her lower lip before shaking her head and sliding forward. She took the book from Ainsley’s hand and then curled her other hand around the back of Ainsley’s neck. Meredith dropped the book to the floor and sat up on her knees, towering over Ainsley.

“You have something much better than an autograph.”

“Yeah, I do, but I can’t bring that with me wherever I go and show it off.”

Meredith laughed again, pushing Ainsley back onto the day bed. She covered Ainsley’s body with her own, feeling the warmth of the wine and the heat of Ainsley’s skin all over her. She couldn’t resist kissing Ainsley again. If anything, the fact she loved to read gay romance and didn’t want to admit it made Meredith love her even more than she already did.

Meredith stuttered. She halted her movements before catching her pace again and sliding her hand up Ainsley’s shirt. That was a thought she hadn’t fully formed before it barreled into her mind at warp speed. She pushed it to side and focused on Ainsley, who was writhing underneath her in pleasure.

“We haven’t tried out this bed yet, have we?” Meredith whispered into Ainsley’s ear, her fingers lighting fires across Ainsley’s chest.

“We haven’t,” Ainsley said and swallowed. “We could though.”

Meredith hummed. “I agree. I think we should. Think about it. You’re having sex with your favorite author. Have you thought about this before?”

Ainsley groaned and bucked her hips. “No.”

“Don’t lie. I know when you’re lying.”

Ainsley let out a snort and then flipped them over so Meredith was on her back. Staring up, Meredith grinned. She loved it when Ainsley took control. It took the breath right out of her lungs and made her weak in the knees. Wanting to encourage her, Meredith raised her leg between Ainsley’s thighs and smiled.

“You can take her right now if you want,” Meredith said, her voice husky and deep with desire.

“I think I will,” Ainsley answered and bent down, kissing away every thought Meredith had.

Chapter Nineteen

She’d kept the book. Ainsley had slid it into her bag before she’d left the next morning and kept it close by her. She hadn’t had a chance to open it until after class on Monday. Sitting on one of the benches in the library on the first floor, Ainsley crossed her legs and looked around before slipping the book out of her backpack.

She opened it carefully, running her fingers over the sleek cover and back again. She couldn’t believe it—she could and she couldn’t at the same time. She never would have pinned Meredith for write gay erotic romance novels, half of which had a BDSM theme to them. She flipped to the back of the book where the author’s bio was and read it like she’d read it a dozen times or so. It didn’t really say anything about the author.

It said she loved to write, wrote in her spare time of her day job and loved characters she could relate to. It said she started writing at a very young age and pursued publishing as an experiment in one of her college courses. Ainsley took in a deep breath. The way it was written made it sound as though it was a class K. P. Schilling had taken, but Ainsley knew better than that. She knew it was a class K. P. Schilling had taught.

Breathing deeply, Ainsley opened the book to the first page and read as quickly as possible. She forgot by the end of the second page that she was sitting in the library surrounded by people walking by, and by the end of the second chapter, she was completely lost in the story. She loved the characters—they had been her favorites in all the books Meredith had written, and to see them come alive on the page again warmed her heart. To have an actual physical copy of the book did that even more.

She’d only ever had the e-versions of the books, wanting to be cheap and economical and make it faster to read. And when she wanted the book, she wanted the book—she didn’t want to wait for shipping. But this was a whole new treat. Meredith had given her the book, laid it right in her hands so she could enjoy it. Shivering, Ainsley read the next chapter, hardly thinking of Meredith as she focused only on the characters.

Adam slipped next to her on the bench and looked over her shoulder. Ainsley paid him very little attention as she finished her page and then turned and raised an eyebrow in his direction. She asked, “Yes?”

“What you reading?”

He stole the book from her fingers and closed the cover so he could see. She rolled her eyes, heat forcing its way to her cheeks as he read the back cover. “Ainsley! Why I do declare.”

“You like them to.”

“I do, but where’d you get this? You never have paperbacks.”

“It was a gift,” she stuttered and hoped he didn’t catch her hiding most of the truth. She wrung her hands together and watched him carefully.

“A gift? Who would give this as a gift? Well, I would—at least to you—but that’s beside the point.”

“Is it? Can’t I have found someone else who loves this book and through conversation found out I loved the series and then gave me the book?” Ainsley bit her lip, knowing she had probably said too much. Adam was quick to the mark, and she had certainly almost given everything away.

He turned and looked at her, eyeing her suspiciously. Ainsley’s heart pounded in her chest, and she knew the flush in her cheeks was so bright red that it had to work down in order to continue to burn. Adam shook his head and handed her back the book. Ainsley shoved it into her backpack and stood up, stretching her back muscles.

“Lunch?” she asked, thankful the conversation was close to being over and she had gotten away without him figuring it out.

“Suuuure…wait. You said someone gave it to you? No one we know would give it to you.” He grabbed her arm and held her still when she tried to escape. “No one. So who gave it to you?”

Ainsley narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out how to answer that question. She had been explicitly told not to say who wrote it, but she could reveal who had given it to her—perhaps that would deter Adam from asking any more questions.

“Meredith gave it to me.”

Adam stared at her dumbfounded. He let go of her arm and took a step back from her. Ainsley felt as though he was about to break. She took a deep breath and readied herself for the onslaught of what she shouldn’t have done according to the world of Adam.

“You went and saw her again.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to. And it’s not your choice—it’s my choice. I don’t see what’s wrong with it. Well, I do, but I went into seeing her knowing what was wrong with it, with my eyes wide open. I’m not some naive kid here.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not, Adam. Can’t you see that? I’m not some virgin in high school who doesn’t know which way is the right way. I’m very clear about who I am and what I want, so let it be.”

“No. I’m not going to let it be. This is a bad idea.”

“We’ve already hashed this out. I’m tired of talking about it. Pick a different subject, please.” Ainsley swung her backpack over her shoulder and put her foot down. She was tired of him telling her what to do and where she could do it. He was a good friend in some respects, but him being not supportive of a relationship that was far healthier than his with Cody was ridiculous. Ainsley looked up at him and waited to see what would happen.

“No. I’m sorry. I can’t just drop it.”

“Then have lunch by yourself.”

She turned and walked toward the door of the library with determination in her step. Ainsley wasn’t going to put up with his crap anymore. That had been her breaking point. She didn’t need his support or his blessing, but she did need him to just accept it and move on. If she wanted to be in a relationship with her professor who had thirty-one years on her, then she would. It was a mutual relationship—whatever the relationship was. She stumbled a step and almost stopped walking to turn back.

Adam was there before she could start walking again, holding onto her arm and issuing apologies. She straightened her shoulders and looked up at him, staring into those big blue eyes he had. She shook her head and turned to leave again.

“Wait,” he said.

Ainsley looked back.

“I’m sorry. I—I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t see why you are so bent out of shape about this when you can frolic around with whoever the fuck you want and I have to sit behind you and not give a damn. Bit of a double standard, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. I do. And it’s not right.”

“Damn straight it’s not right.”

“I shouldn’t judge. You’re happy with her. I can see that. And I’m sorry.”

Ainsley held her position, waiting to see if he would make any more apologies to her, but when he didn’t, she softened her jaw and her look, settling down. She nodded to him and smiled. “I accept. But drop it already. I don’t know why you’re being such a pain in the ass about it.”