September Fall. Jenny Plumb

exactly what she wanted from a lover. When she saw a guy wearing a wide, well-worn belt, her clit always twitched, and she found herself attracted to him. In fact, the belt Garrett was wearing the day he'd asked her out was the biggest reason she'd said yes. But she'd never been brave enough to ask him to use it on her.

      So today, she was going to gather her courage, stand up for herself, and tell Adam what she was into.

      Adam's eyes opened wide, and he sat up a little straighter when he saw Sadie hobble into the room with her crutches. She looked so fucking hot, compared to Tuesday, that he might have to put his notebook in his lap like he was back in middle school instead of college. Her tight-fitting tee-shirt left nothing to the imagination, and he couldn't wait to get her home and into his bed.

      His eyes went to hers, and he realized he'd been caught looking at her chest again, but she was smiling, so he didn't apologize when she sat down next to him.

      "You look fantastic," he said.

      "Thanks. You look good too."

      He looked down at his tee-shirt and jeans for a moment and shrugged.

      "Did you do the homework?" she asked.

      At the end of the last class, Dr. Stryker had asked them to analyze their feelings about whatever incident led them to this class and to identify underlying emotions other than anger.

      Sighing, he flipped open his notebook and showed her his first page.

      Anger is my underlying emotion.

      She snickered and said, "Please tell me you're not actually serious."

      He thought she was even prettier when she laughed. He grinned. "Well, I am serious, but I know it's not what Dr. Stryker wants to see, so here's my bullshit essay." He flipped the page and let her see the two paragraphs he'd written last night about feeling helpless to protect the women Rubin had raped.

      She nodded. "Much better."

      "What about you?" he asked.

      She showed him her notebook but didn't leave it open long enough for him to actually read it.

      "Embarrassed about your answer?" he asked.

      She shrugged. "I guess."

      He put a hand on her naked knee and said, "I'd like to see it."

      After a small pause, she opened it, and let him read it. The essay said her underlying emotion was sorrow for the cheerleading career she'd never have. Once he'd read it, he squeezed her knee gently and said, "I'm sorry."

      "Thanks."

      Dr. Stryker started the class, and Adam let go of her knee so he could pay attention.

      The class was all about how people who feel powerless in a situation often resort to anger, and Dr. Stryker had asked them to connect that dynamic into their homework assignment about underlying emotions. Sadie couldn't deny the truth of that concept. She had felt powerless when she was lying on the side of that mountain waiting to be rescued, and she'd felt even more powerless when the doctor had told her she'd never be able to play competitive sports again. It was a sobering class, and she could tell from his expression that Adam had been affected as well.

      Trying to stay positive for his sake, she said, "What kind of food should we get on the way to your house?"

      He slowly smiled. "There's a slew of fast food places on the way. We could get burgers, tacos, chicken, or even pizza or Chinese food. What sounds good?"

      "Burgers?"

      "Sure."

      Fifteen minutes later when Sadie saw Adam's house, she wondered if maybe this was a bad idea. There was no way she could get up the porch stairs safely without some help, especially when her newfound fear of falling might cause her to freeze halfway up the stairs. Luckily for her, her parents' house was one level, so that hadn't been an issue. She hated the thought of appearing weak and needy in front of Adam. She knew she was a masochist with submissive tendencies, and she was fine with that label in the bedroom, but not anywhere else.

      Adam parked his car and said, "Do you need help getting out?"

      "No." She didn't mean for her answer to come out sounding sharp, but if his raised eyebrows were an indication, she'd failed. She added, "Thanks for the offer, but your car is the perfect height for me to get in and out of on my own."

      "Okay." He picked up their bag of food and their soda tray before getting out. Then he waited on her side of the car while she got herself out.

      Once she was upright, he shut her door, locked the car, and walked in front of her up the walkway. She stopped at the bottom of the porch and watched him take the six stairs in three steps.

      He unlocked the front door, turned around, and frowned at the air beside him before looking down at her.

      Blushing, she mumbled, "Could you spot me while I get up the stairs?"

      "Sure." He set their burger bag and drink tray on the porch and went to stand next to her. "I could just carry you," he offered.

      "Oh…" She was torn. Being carried sounded both romantic and pathetic at the same time.

      After a short indecisive pause, he spoke. "Give me your crutches."

      He held out his hand for them, and she let him take them with a frown. He leaned them against the porch railing and turned to her.

      One moment she was standing, and the next, she was in his arms, bridal style. She gasped as her world shifted, and her arms automatically wrapped around his shoulders to steady herself as he easily carried her up the stairs, through the house, and into the kitchen. He carefully set her down right next to one of the kitchen chairs.

      "There," he said decisively.

      He turned and went back outside, presumably to get her crutches and their food, while she stared at his back, wondering if she should be upset. He came back in, shut the front door behind him, put the food on the table, and handed her the crutches.

      "Thanks," she said, leaning the crutches against the table and pulling the chair out so she could sit. He sat kitty-corner from her and started getting the food out.

      Once they'd both had a couple of bites, she said, "A couple of times during class, you said you were the president of SAK. What happened?"

      Setting his burger down, he leaned back in his chair. "It's in the rules of the fraternity. You can't be president if you've had a misdemeanor or felony, and since my lawyer couldn't get the case thrown out during my arraignment, there wasn't a choice. Most of the guys said they should've changed the rules or made an exception for me, but it's a national rule for every chapter of SAK, so they wouldn't make an exception. If I get found not guilty, then I could qualify to be president again, but my lawyer says that's not going to happen. I did assault someone, and I did it in front of witnesses. I think Rubin deserved it, and everyone I've talked to agrees, but that's not the way our legal system sees it."

      "That sucks," she said. "Are you kicked out of SAK completely? Is that why you're living at home again?"

      "No, I'm still a member, but I've been suspended from the football team, pending the outcome of the charges against me. Living in that house with all the other players and watching them go to practice every day sounded too painful." He looked towards the doorway and added, "But after living with my dad for the past couple of weeks, I'm thinking I might move back."

      "Why?" she asked, genuinely confused.

      "Because if he tells me what a fuck up I am one more time, I'm going to lose it."

      "Wait a minute." She could barely believe what she was hearing. "Are you telling me that he's not proud of you for stopping a rapist?"

      "Proud?" A bitter chuckle