Melissa Collins - Let Love Heal

With a deep cleansing breath, I decide to let the craziness that has been my morning - hell, that has been the last few weeks of my life, fade away.

It hasn’t been a perfect start with Peyton, but considering that we’ll be sharing a room for at least the next four months, I smile brightly at her and hold the DVD box up in between us. “Feel like telling me more about yourself while we watch this? I’ve seen them more than I care to admit, but I’ll start from the beginning if you want.”

An equally bright smile graces Peyton’s pretty face as she says, “Sure. That would be really nice.” She angles her head back to the door where her bags sit. “I can un-pack later.”

I bounce out of my seat and pop a disc into the DVD player. As the bubbly notes of the opening theme song play out, I offer to make us some breakfast. Of course, Mom made sure that the fridge was stocked before she left. God, I love that woman. If it wasn’t for her, Peyton and I would be eating melted ice cream and stale chips for breakfast.

As I hand her a plate of toast with jelly and some fresh fruit, Peyton says, “Thanks” and then her attention is immediately drawn to the sparkly pair of Manolo Blanik’s that grace Carrie’s feet. “Oh my goodness, those are the prettiest shoes I’ve ever seen.” And then when some shirtless piece of man-pie walks across the screen, Peyton nearly chokes on her orange juice. “Why on Earth have I never seen this show?”

We share a loud laugh and spend the rest of the morning getting to know each other, all the while getting lost in the wonder that is Sex and the City.

It’s good to focus my attention on something other than Bryan, but when Aiden confronts Carrie about going behind his back with Mr. Big, I’m thrown full force back into my own world of problems – texts of kisses and cheating girlfriends. Forcing my brain to think happier thoughts, I get lost in the memory of mine and Bryan’s first date.

I’ve been working at the computer lab for just about three weeks now, and so far everything seems to be going really well. I get to spend lots of time with Bryan, who oddly works just about every shift that I work – a part of his master plan to wear me down as he promised, I’m sure.

His plan has been somewhat effective. He buys me coffee every morning that we have class together and caffeine is most definitely a quick way to my heart. He also plays the dorky card every now and then too. Just last week when he was passing out papers during class, he put a sticky note on top of mine. On it, he wrote, “Go out with me” with two little squares. Next to one was the word “yes” and the other “no”. A bit adolescent? Sure, but sweet nonetheless.

The cornerstone of his plan is the one that’s having the greatest effect – proximity. When we work together, he’s always leaning over my shoulder, reaching in front of me to type something on my keyboard. The feel of his hard chest pressed up against my back makes me melt for him. He’s winning in his little plan, that’s for sure. I don’t dare tell him as much, but I think he can tell.

Bryan’s not working with me tonight, though. It’s just me and Professor O’Neil right now. I really like Professor O’Neil and I can definitely tell why Bryan has enjoyed working for him these past three years. He’s well into his sixties and he’s the quintessential absent-minded professor. He’s bald on top, but what hair he does have left is an unkempt mass of salt-and-pepper curls. I think my favorite thing about him, aside from his sweet personality, is that his tweed jacket – you know, the kind with the leather patches on the elbows – is always smattered with chalk dust across his back.

Since it’s a Friday night, it’s very quiet in the lab. No one really wants to do homework when there are parties to attend and drinks to consume. I get out of here at eight, so I could still go out, but I’m not much of a partier.

Professor O’Neil has been here for most of my shift, but by the looks of it, he’s not making it until eight. He actually looks like he’s going to fall asleep at his desk.

When I gently tap on his door, I startle him out of his light sleep. “Oh, hi, Melanie. Is something wrong out there? Do you need help?” he asks as he wipes the exhaustion from his eyes.

I step toward his desk and pick a few stray papers up from the floor. They must have fallen there when he passed out on top of the rather large stack that’s still sitting on his desk. Shaking my head, I say, “No, everything’s fine, Professor O’Neil. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve got this covered.” I angle my head out to the main room, which is completely empty. “There’s no one here, so why don’t you go home and I’ll lock up.”

Looking down at his watch, he smiles. “You know what? That sounds perfect. I can get home just in time to watch Jeopardy with my wife.” He starts packing up his briefcase with random papers and books. It surprises me that the man is even capable of remembering how to get home or around campus. He’s such a scatterbrain.

As he walks past me, he claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve done a really great job here these past few weeks. It’s nice having you on board.” He drops the keys in my hand and walks out into the main hallway. I smile with pride and escort him out. Walking left first, he then turns around sharply when he realizes that he needs to go to the right instead. I have to chuckle at him; he’s just so likeable and so dorky that it’s impossible not to laugh.

Okay, even I can admit that I have a huge soft spot for the dorky type.

Laughing softly at Professor O’Neil’s lack of direction, I check my watch as I saunter back toward my desk. I only have about an hour left of my shift. It’s boring as hell, but at least I’ll get my studying done. As I pull my biology textbook out of my bag, not surprisingly, I smack my head on the underside of the desk. Laughing at myself, I have to admit that I’m the clumsiest person ever, well after Professor O’Neil of course.

“What’s so funny?” Bryan’s warm and familiar voice filters in to my ears. He must have walked in while I was getting my books out.

Rubbing over the small bump that’s already started to swell on my head, I smile at him. “I was just thinking that I’m the most accident-prone person ever, but now that you’re here, I’m starting to think you might have something to do with it.”

Bryan chuckles, deep and throaty, while smirking at me playfully. “And please tell me what role I play in your clumsiness?” He rubs his stubbled chin as he waits for me to speak up. But somehow, all I can manage to do is watch his fingers touch his face. I wonder what it would feel like to run my fingers through that stubble, to trace my tongue along it, to feel it scratch my face, and some other places as well.

“Well …” His softly spoken word disrupts my silent, but delicious thoughts. Quickly recovering my flirty wit, which always seems to be in place when Bryan is around, I let my lips curl up at the corners. “Well, it just seems that I get banged up pretty good when you’re around.”

The sound of his loud, almost uncontrollable laughter takes me by surprise. I cross my arms over my ample chest, and narrowing my eyes I at him, I snare, “What the hell’s so funny?” I feel slightly put-off by him laughing at me.

After his laughter subsides, he places his palms on the desk and leans into me. He’s so close that I can smell the cinnamon on his breath; I can feel the heat emanating from his muscled body. “Believe me, Melanie, if it was up to me, you would be banged very well whenever I’m around. I thought I told you that already.”

Oh dear lord!

His eyes narrow in on mine and I know there’s no way for me to conceal the shock that washes over my face. He sees it and laughs softly at me again. “Now, don’t be so surprised. I told you that I like you, repeatedly in fact. It’s not my fault that you don’t believe me.” He pauses a beat before adding, “Yet.”

I roll my eyes. That’s been my reaction to his fairly persistent advances. Since we met on the first day of classes, he has taken every opportunity to be flirtatious or do something sweet for me. Just the other morning, he greeted me outside of my eight a.m. class with an extra-large coffee. That gesture prompted a face-splitting smile rather than the usual eye roll. His plan might just be working.

As I desperately try to calm the swarm of butterflies that have suddenly taken flight in my belly, Bryan scans the empty lab. He quickly realizes that we’re by ourselves. “You’re all alone? Where’s Professor O’Neil, or Simon.” Flirty Bryan is gone and now concerned Bryan stands before me.

Dismissing his protectiveness, I swat my hand in front of me as if I’m shooing away a fly. “It’s no big deal, Bryan. Simon wasn’t feeling well so he left early and Professor O’Neil fell asleep at his desk so I told him to go home and I would close the lab up at eight.”

“Yeah, but you still shouldn’t be here alone.” He’s still scanning the room as if some masked killer from a slasher film is going to jump out at me.

“So then stay with me.” My words catch him off guard. Hell, they even catch me off guard. Ever since my first encounter with Courtney a few weeks ago, his drop-dead-gorgeous ex-girlfriend, I’ve tried to put some distance between us by dismissing his advances, but tonight, honestly, I’d like to spend a little time with him. Especially after his comment about banging. Okay, okay. It may have been lame and even a bit crude, but I can no longer deny that being around him ignites sparks in me that I’ve never felt before. His tender touch and kind words make me feel special and beautiful.