CHAPTER ONE

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2021

          It was pouring outside.

          My cold hands, trembling and weak and pathetic, struggled to balance three glasses of wine as I carried them back towards the common room, where a bottle of Pinot Noir was expecting me. It's not the only thing waiting for me there; my two roommates, Ingrid and Savannah, both giggled at clumsy Penn as I stumbled towards them and nearly dropped the glasses onto the carpet.

          It was safe to say that particular bottle of Pinot Noir wasn't the first thing we'd had to drink all evening—or all day, even. We'd spent the entire afternoon slipping in and out of semi-drunken states, for the first time in what had felt like an eternity.

          "Thank you, Penny," Ingrid said, voice slurred, and I fell to my designated cushion. They were so big Savannah and her five-foot frame nearly got swallowed up by it. "Did you get the, um . . . the thing? To open the bottle?"

          "No," I whined. "Don't make me get up."

          It was clear neither of them was going to get up and get the bottle opener from the kitchen. Ingrid was a lightweight and Savannah had curled up like a cat, ready for the next dose of alcohol, so I knew I had to be the one to take one for the team. It was the natural order of things, ever since freshman year, and it was just one of those things I'd gotten used to as time went by.

          My parents didn't like them much, and that was putting it mildly.

          To be perfectly honest, my parents didn't like a lot of people. I'd spent my childhood and teenage years believing they tolerated me, at best, something they had to deal with, and it had been gratifying to be left alone during what one would call my 'rebellion' phase. They didn't care much about what I did or who I hung out with, as long as I didn't make a fool out of myself and them, by association, so I never pushed their buttons that much.

          I'd always been so desperate for their approval it would almost be comical if they weren't my parents. They thought Ingrid and Savannah brought out the worst in me, with all the partying and the boys and the alcohol and the occasional coke and weed, but little did they know this get-together was the first time we'd all sat down and spent some quality time together in months.

          "I feel like I haven't seen you in ages," Savannah commented, as I opened the bottle and she yanked it right out of my hands. Some droplets spilled onto the mahogany coffee table and Ingrid immediately reached out for a paper towel to wipe them. "We live in the same apartment, yet it seems like you're never here."

          "Yeah," Ingrid agreed, through gritted teeth, still focused on not ruining her mother's precious table. Most of the furniture in the apartment wasn't ours; some of it had already been here, but the vast majority had been lent by Ingrid's family. A generous donation, they'd said, for our girls. "Where the hell have you been, Penn?"

          I sighed. Where hadn't I been?

          "We just got back to college," I said, twirling my glass of wine. I hadn't eaten anything all day and all the alcohol was being dumped into a perky pink empty stomach, gurgling. "It's October. I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to catch up."

          "You know what we mean," Savannah insisted. "People spent the summer updating their social media, travelling, and you just . . . went MIA. Did you go anywhere with your parents?"

          "Tuscany. They went to Tuscany." They both nodded with my clarification. If I had been to Tuscany during the summer, they would have known—they believed so, at least. "I went to Madrid. I wanted to spend some time with my grandparents."

          That was not a lie. I had, in fact, run away to Madrid during the summer and had spent plenty of quality time with my paternal grandparents, the two people I'd never doubted genuinely, unconditionally loved me.

          However, I hadn't been there by myself.

          "You know who also went to Madrid for the summer?" Ingrid asked, with a devilish glimmer in her eyes, and my heart momentarily stopped beating. We'd been so careful—he made sure we would be—and, if my indiscretions had ruined us, it would be my ruin. "Marco, from my Molecular Chemistry class. Remember him?"

          Relieved, I sipped my wine with a smug smirk, careful not to give anything away. Even though I had no idea who Marco from Ingrid's Molecular Chemistry class was, the rumor still kept them entertained for long enough to also keep them off my back. I was notorious for not dating, which led to speculation, and speculation led to rumors.

          Rumors I could easily take advantage of.

          "You minx," Savannah teased, playfully kicking me. "Is that who you've been dating this whole time?"

          "It's not dating."

          That was also true. We'd never bothered with labels for our relationship, whatever it was—if there even was one—and it just added to the thrill of it being our own thing, a moment he shared with no one else but me. In those little moments, he was mine.

          He hadn't touched me in weeks.

          He said it was too dangerous, too risky, and there were always too many people nearby. It'd be suspicious if I lingered around every day after his lectures, especially so early in the semester, and I'd already run out of excuses. Though I knew that was for the best, that his head was in a much better place than mine, disappointment and loneliness had been quick to overcome me and I found myself repeatedly obsessing over what I had done wrong.

          Maybe he didn't want me anymore. Maybe I'd screwed things up along the way.

          No wonder no one could stand me.

          In the distance, my phone buzzed. It was all I lived for these days—sitting around and waiting for a text, a phone call, anything that suggested I still mattered for more than just a quick booty call. He used to tell me my brain was like no other ("Penn, you're phenomenal").

          "I'll be right back," I said, putting away my empty glass of wine.

          "Get it, girl!" Ingrid cheered, as she poured herself another drink.

          My heart thudded in anticipation as I retreated towards my bedroom, counting every breath I took, careful not to make a lot of noise. It was a habit I hadn't noticed I'd picked up, but all the sneaking around was getting embedded in my daily habits.

          SYLVIA, 6:56 PM: Meet me. Library. Myth section.

          I clutched my phone close to my chest, even though I was alone in the darkness of the room, unable to not feel like my heart was about to burst. The mirror in the hallway, right across from my door, reflected my excitement back at me, and all of that over a simple text message.

          I looked like crap, after an entire day of not doing anything productive, so I applied the tiniest bit of concealer and freed my hair from its bun, appreciating the gentle waves I'd been left with. I was lucky I took after my mother, which meant she'd shared with me all of the beauty tricks she'd learned from her time in Hollywood, and I knew how to make myself look presentable in a few minutes.

          "Listen, I have to pick up a few books for a paper I'm working on," I told the girls, slipping on a trench coat that was definitely not suited for the weather. "You can finish the wine without me."

          "A paper? Already?" Savannah questioned.

          "Yeah." I reached out for my keys. "Film Theory and Criticism. Steele is already kicking our asses."

          "Wish he'd kick my ass," Ingrid sighed, downing her wine, and my blood boiled, even though she didn't know her comment had pissed me off to no extent. It was the one thing she couldn't steal from me, no matter how hard she tried ("blondes are really not my type"), and, even if she did, it would never be as great, as regal.

          I made my way towards the campus library in quick steps, practicing my speech in my head and thinking back to everything I had said. Mentioning Steele might have been a bad idea, as they'd know I was doing something that involved him, and that completely defeated the concept of 'being discreet'. It had slipped out of my tongue, as easy as I'd slipped under his sheets years ago, as easy as he'd sneaked into my rib cage.

          If my heartbeat had been erratic when I left my apartment, I was flatlining by the time I stepped through the library doors. The place was crowded, unsurprisingly, and a malicious voice resting at the back of my head reminded me this was a terrible idea; there were too many people in this place and he certainly must have lost his mind.

          I tiptoed across the aisles, squaring my shoulders and focusing only on steadying my breathing, as I did not want to be out of breath by the time I got to the Mythology section. It was known for being a secluded section of the library, reserved for pretentious seniors who thought they were so much better than everyone else, but he liked it there because people would leave him alone. It attracted less traffic than his office.

          My breath got hitched on my throat as soon as I caught that first glimpse of him.

          All I could see from the aisle was a fraction of his body, tall and lean and beautiful, as he leaned his back against a bookcase. Dark hair slicked back, glasses perched up on the bridge of his nose, leather jacket, black jeans, combat boots. He looked young enough to almost blend in with the rest of the students, but he exuded confidence, an aura of superiority guys my age could only dream of ever reaching.

          I craned my neck, just to ensure he was alone, and slowed down my steps just enough so he wouldn't hear the heels of my boots clicking against the floor.

          "New perfume?" he asked, speaking quietly so I'd be the only one to hear him, and blood immediately rushed to my cheeks. "You smell different."

          "Must be the wine," I replied, sneaking into the Mythology section. Even though we were alone, we still had to play it safe. I couldn't kiss him, I couldn't hug him, I couldn't touch him. All I could do was stare at him and take him in. "Why are we meeting here?"

          "I wanted to recommend you some bibliography for your paper," he clarified, louder this time, as a group of guys walked past us. They recognized him, because of course they did, and they all greeted him with a cheery 'hey, Doc'. Luckily for me, luckily for us, they didn't suspect a thing. "I think you might find these quite . . . interesting."

          "Let me check." He let me glance at the book he was holding, brushing his fingers against mine as I flipped the page. I had no passion for Mythology, even though he'd tried to make it spark an interest in me; the only thing that attracted me about it was him. "I think this book might be a bit inappropriate, Professor Steele."

          His eyes, ice-blue, bore deep into mine. "Is it?"

          He held The Mythology of Sex with one hand. The other snaked around my waist, under my coat, and pressed against my hip, bringing me closer to him. His touch sparked a chain reaction of sensations across my body—a tingling feeling on my toes, turning into a ravaging fire in my stomach, a hurricane in my heart, a thunderstorm in my head.

          Even though both of his hands were holding something—the book, close to him, and me, nearly at arm's length—he had captured me long ago. I only had him for brief moments, yet he had all of me at all times.

          "I'll give it a read," I eventually said. "Thank you."

          "Mhmm." He closed the book, stepped away, and returned it to the library cart. The place where his hand had rested, right on the curve of my waist, was ice-cold. Everything else was scorching. "I have a few other suggestions in my office. I find that the library's selection of books can be quite lacking." He tilted his head to the side, examining me, and deemed me worthy of his invitation. "I'm sure you agree."

          "Lacking," I agreed. "Lead the way?"

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          I knew his office like the back of my hand.

          I knew which books he kept there, a much better selection of Film Theory literature than the one I'd find in the library downstairs. I knew where I had to stand to be fully concealed from anyone who tried to catch a peek from outside. I knew where he liked me to be. I knew where I liked to be.

          I wanted to be all over him. I wanted to be a pesky stain one couldn't remove from the carpet, no matter how hard they tried. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, press myself against him, and never let him go.

          "New windows," I commented, looking out of them. I could see everything that went down in the hallway right outside, but everyone who tried to look in would only find darkness. I didn't want to assume he'd gotten them over me, over us, but I appreciated them nonetheless.

          Behind me, he hummed. A rustling sound let me know he'd just taken off his jacket. His arms, strong, wrapped around my waist as he hugged me from behind, nuzzling the crook of my neck, and I craned my head back to give him a better angle, easier access.

          That's what it was. I gave, I gave, I gave. Hoped I was doing enough. Hoped I was enough.

          "Why do you keep pushing me away?" I asked, resisting the urge to give in. He undid my coat's belt, slowly removing that layer of clothes and tossing it aside. "It's like I don't even exist in class. I was thinking"—I sharply inhaled when his teeth nibbled at the fragile skin below my ear—"about declaring you as my advisor. It's either you or Professor Bass, and we all know which of you I'd rather choose. I already spend an absurd amount of time with you."

          "I don't think that's wise," he replied. "We don't want people to get suspicious."

          I took a step forward, then turned around to face him. "It's an extra excuse for us to spend time together, not to mention it's a great academic opportunity for me. I actually want to finish my degree, you know. The quicker I finish college, the quicker we can stop sneaking around." He sighed. This wasn't what he'd signed up for and I forced myself to swallow everything else I wanted to tell him, out of fear it would drive him even further away from me. "Just . . . give it some thought, okay? I have until the end of the month to make a decision."

          "I will."

          "Okay."

          His hands made their way towards my neck, tilting my head up, and his lips crashed against mine like he hadn't seen me in over a year. It had certainly felt like that to me, faced with the torture of seeing him every day, sitting in the front row of his lectures and not being able to remind everyone in the hall he belonged to me.

          He kissed me hard, pushing me until the small of my back hit his desk, and I slid my legs around his waist, arms around his broad shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair. I inhaled, taking in his smell, and being met with mint from his aftershave, coffee from his tongue, and rain and fire and lust from everywhere else. It brought me great comfort, great joy to know no one else was doing this, no one else saw him as perfectly as I did.

          It felt good. It felt so good to be wanted, to be someone's. In his office, he worshipped me, my face, my body, my brain, my soul. His hands travelled along me, finding curves and sharp angles, molding me to his touch, and he let me lean my ear against his chest to hear him.

          "This is what you do to me," he whispered in my ear, my hand pressed between our chests, my lips peppering kisses along his jaw. His beard, shaven just that morning, tickled me and I wanted so desperately to bury myself in him. "You melt me. I'm so devoted."

          "Mine," I murmured.

          "Yours," he confirmed, pulling away to cup my face between his hands. He was flushed, out of breath, and the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. "Just a few more months."

          "And then forever."

          Chase grinned. "Forever is ours, baby."

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oh yeah buddy we're doing multiple timelines and you'll have to deal with it

tolerate it from evermore is a penn x chase song from start to finish and i don't know how to feel about it so enjoy a chapter i shouldn't have posted LMAO back to my thesis i go

i'm trying a semi-new writing style for this book so pls let me know what you think. i'm Not Good at metaphorical and purple writing by any means so be nice ok thx