𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘

[44] Little Infinity

l i t t l e  i n f i n i t y
CONRAD'S POV:

After class, Margot comes into my office for a further explanation of the weekend's assignment. My philosophy is: it's Creative Writing, just friggin' write. Appreciate my rated-PG word choice for once.

She's in the middle of apologizing again, for I don't even know what, when there's a knock on my office door. And I already know who it is based on her knock. I love you that much, Cove. Or maybe she's just so familiar I just know. Because when you're around someone pretty much twenty-four-seven, you just know.

"—for my actions on Monday," Margot finishes, but I barely hear a word from her mouth.

"Come in," I say, clearing my throat. Looking back at Margot, I nod. "Thanki—thank you for your apology, good job in class today."

Covey opens the door at that second and when she spots Margot in the seat across from me on the other side of the desk, her eyes widen and she looks away. Pissed. Wow, their hatred for each other is strong.

She visibly gulps and then turns to me. "Professor Monroe."

"Miss Jensen, have a seat. Margot was just leaving," I inform her, giving Margot a curt nod. 

She gets up from the chair and offers me a wave and cheeky smile. "Thank you again, Professor. See you around, Covey."

When she leaves, Covey shuts the door behind her and locks it. Giving me a not-so-happy look and clenching her jaw, she says, "Conrad Declan Monroe, what the dino chicken nuggets?" Holy shit, say that again. 

"Covey, I'm a teacher too," I remind her, chuckling. I open my arms for her and she walks over to me before straddling my waist. Fuck yes. "Margot is dyslexic, d'you know that?"

She scoffs, completely apathetic. "Great, so now she's talking to you about her personal life."

"Covey, be nice."

"Conrad, be understanding," she sighs, pouting. Fucker.

"You've gotta know by now that there's only ever gonna be you." I brush the stray hairs from her face, holding her jaw in my palms. Pecking her lips, I mumble, "Only ever you, mi amore."

I feel her eyelashes flutter again my nose as she kisses down my jaw. "I know, but still. Your student-teacher fantasies could—"

"They're being fulfilled right now," I say, wrapping my arms around her. "I love you, kid. I promised.'

"I know," she sighs, gulping. "I know." And then I feel like there's more she wants to say.

After a minute of her not saying, I furrow my eyebrows together. "What, love?"

"I'm just overthinking my overthinking, that's all." She gives me a wary smile, her eyes distant. Then she suddenly asks, "What happens when you don't want me anymore? What's gonna happen to me?" Are you fucking insane?

"Who said I won't want you anymore?" I ask, my grip around her waist tightening. Giving her a glare, I say, "Don't even fucking dare to say those words again, okay? You're enough—you're a hundred times enough—so don't ever question my want for you. I want you right now, I want you in five minutes, in five days, five weeks, five months, five years—hell, in five lifetimes. I chose you to love. You. Nobody else. And I promised to never leave, so I won't."

"It's just a promise," she whispers, her hazel eyes coating over with a deep look. "You can break promises."

"Well now it's a fucking lifetime guarantee," I challenge, kissing her nose. "And there is no return policy. So throw away the receipt 'cause I'm not taking you back to the place you came from."