The Record of My Heart (Words #3.5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

been crossed irrevocably. I mean I was literally mashing my hard-on against her ass. Despite being overcome with lust, I was suddenly gripped by horror, as I realized (with a little help from Brad) that I was doing the very thing Nicola had accused me of. I was sexually harassing a student! I turned away as I quickly as I could and escaped upstairs. My mother and father quickly saw that I was borderline wasted and sprang into action, my dad resolving to take me home immediately.
    Aubrey and I shared that ride home, but we didn’t share any further words or glances. In fact, I have little to no recollection of the trip. I think I passed out within seconds of leaving my parents’ driveway.
    And now I sit here, utterly ashamed and not sure what to do next. Not that I haven’t heard plenty of advice and suggestions. I’ve been on the phone on and off all day. Mom’s appalled at the idea that she was “tricked” by Aubrey, someone she thought was quite lovely and who “seemed” so genuine and intelligent. I begged her not to blame Aubrey, trying to point out how trapped the poor girl was. Then I got an earful from my father—the usual. All completely predictable.
    I spoke to Jeremy and Brad too, filling them in on all the behind the scenes shit. Though I didn’t speak directly to Penny, I gather she’s completely mortified at the thought that she was being so flippant about Aubrey all night, pushing us together, all the while ignorant of the fact that this was the girl I’ve been telling her about for three weeks. What a mess. They must all be shaking their heads in disbelief.
    But I can’t worry about my family right now. I’m more concerned about Aubrey. What must she think of me? In my booze induced haze, I suppose I was quite happy to assume she was being warm and flirtatious in response to my advances, but what if she felt as if she had to behave that way because of my relative authority? God, I can’t face her in that classroom. I can’t just waltz in and look at her as if nothing untoward happened. No, before even attempting to sit across from her in the lecture hall, I’ll have to speak to her. Apologize somehow, for behaving so poorly…
    On the other hand, Aubrey’s no fool. From day one she hasn’t shied away from disagreeing with me and standing up for herself. If she’d felt I was out of line, she would have made her disdain clear. Wouldn’t she? Brad did tell me he thought she seemed perfectly at ease and quite happy to go along with what I was doing. Jeremy confirmed as much, saying he never would have guessed she was uncomfortable. Why shouldn’t I lean toward their interpretation instead of assuming I’m doomed? Why am I so quick to assume the worst?
    Because, as Shakespeare’s Antony said, “All strange and terrible events are welcome, But comforts we despise,” that’s why.
    My piss poor luck is never-ending.
    And my penchant for hyperbole is verging on absurd.

Monday, March 2
    If I could speak to my grandfather right now, eke out a kernel of advice about how to deal with the predicament I find myself in with Aubrey Price, he’d probably sigh deeply, pat my knee and comfort me with one of his favorite historical aphorisms. Perhaps he’d haul out, “Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.” This is wishful thinking. I can’t imagine my grandfather encouraging me to buck the system where my most recent moral transgression is concerned.
    I met with Aubrey today. I called Martin and told him I was ill and wouldn’t be able to attend his lecture or conduct my tutorial. I waited for Aubrey after class and followed her to the Gardiner Museum where I caught up with her as she was browsing through the second floor ceramic displays. I interrupted her solitude after watching her for a few moments, and she turned, looking at me with those eyes—eyes that registered surprise, perhaps even shock. But then her expression softened, and I read relief in her gentle blink and hesitant