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“G, I need your advice.” Reaching over the table, I swiped another chocolate from the open box without checking the flavour and then winced as I bit into it, steeling myself for coffee or strawberry creme. Luckily, it was caramel, a flavour I didn’t mind.
“You know I’m always available to dole out my pearls of wisdom, my dear. What is it?”
“My showcase dance. Our group dance is most likely going to end up being a combination of ballet and hip-hop moves, but I wanted to incorporate balletic movements into my solo dance. I’m just unsure if it would make me lose points if I were to demonstrate the same technique in both dances.”
Her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me. “Dance from the heart. That’s all you need to do. Dance from the heart, and the rest will come. When you do that, you shine so brightly, Josh.”
A lump came into my throat at the sincerity in her words. “Okay. Thanks. I…I still don’t know exactly what I’m going to do, but I can do that.”
“Good.” Whipping one of the cards from her hand with a speed that belied her age, she slammed it down on the table. “Ha! An ace of spades. I win.”
“Yeah. You win.” I grinned at her. “Want another game? Or do you want to tell me about George’s attempts to woo you? I’ve got almost an hour until I need to get back and do a thing for a friend, so?—”
“A thing for a friend? Tell me more.”
Shaking my head, I began gathering up the playing cards, placing them in a neat pile. “It’s nothing important. Ander has to hand in an essay to one of his lecturers, and by all accounts, the guy’s an uptight dick, so I said I’d take it to him.” Batting my lashes, I smirked at her. “I’m such a good friend.”
“A nosy friend, you mean. You want to take a look at this gentleman for yourself, don’t you?”
“Well, okay, yes. I am curious. I keep hearing about him, and I know nothing. All my degree teachers love me.”
“Of course they do.” She stood, a little unsteady for a moment, but waved me off when I rushed around the table to her. “I’m fine, don’t fuss. So, this man—you think you’re going to charm him?”
“I don’t know, but it can’t hurt to try. It might make Ander’s life easier, at least. If I can smooth the way for him, even a bit, then the guy might stop giving him such a hard time. Do you know he doesn’t even let the students refer to him by his first name like all the other teaching staff do? They have to call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Dr. Wilder.’”
Sinking down onto the small sofa in front of the fireplace, she patted the cushion next to me. “I have no doubt that you’ll charm him. Now, come and sit here. We can watch an episode of The Masked Singer while I tell you what Lucille told me about Barbara.”
With a smile, I did as she said.
2
Ipinched my brow and then massaged my temples. This damn headache was getting to me.
It was five fifty, though, so at least my day of work was almost over. Except…it wasn’t, was it? My jaw tightened as I remembered that I’d asked Ander Loveridge to hand-deliver his essay to me at 6:00 p.m. What had I been thinking? I should have just asked him to submit it online only, and then I could have left work on time for once. Now, I’d have to sit there and read through his essay before he left because I would not accept another substandard piece of writing. The boy was clever, but I’d noticed that his efforts were minimal when the modules focused on a subject he had little interest in. It was fortunate for him that I looked out for my brightest students, constantly pushing them to do better. It was unfortunate for us both that we’d be stuck in my office when neither of us wanted to be there while I determined if his work was acceptable.
A knock came at the door, and I bit back a growl. I despised unpunctuality. I’d made sure to state that he was to arrive at six o’clock sharp. Not before, not afterwards.
“Enter,” I called, my tone cold, showing my displeasure. The door creaked open, and I had to do a double take.
That wasn’t Ander Loveridge standing at my door.
My gaze returned to my screen as I jerked my finger towards the door. “Office hours are over. Come back tomorrow between 3:00 and 4:00 p.m. Close the door on your way out.”
There was silence. I glanced back up at the figure, ready to reiterate my words. Then I took a second, longer look.
The young man was dressed simply in an oversized pale blue LSU hoodie, jeans, and white Nikes. A pair of glasses, framed with chunky black rims, were perched on his nose, and his hair was a mop of waves on top of his head. His bright blue eyes were wide, his golden-brown lashes fluttering as he blinked at me, his lips parted in what looked like shock.
A slow chill stole over my body as our gazes connected, and my chest tightened.
He swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders, then took a step forwards, holding something out to me.
“Dr. Wilder.”
“It’s you,” I said hoarsely. “What the fuck is this? What are you doing here?”
He slid the small stack of papers across my desk. “I’m here to deliver Ander’s essay.”
“Close the door,” I commanded, holding his gaze. His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue, simply turning his back to me and softly shutting the door. The air seemed to leave the room with his actions, and I rubbed at my chest, unable to catch a breath.
