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“Do you plan on plying me with alcohol anytime soon, Owen?”
“No,” I said, lying through my teeth.
Her shoulders slumped a little, like she was disappointed with my answer.
“Anyway, I can’t recall anything from my history class this morning. I blame you.”
“Fine, I’ll take the blame,” I agreed. “Just drink a ton of water and sleep well tonight and you’ll feel better.”
She nodded.
“I sent you my manuscript yesterday. Did you get it?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll get to it this week.”
I wasn’t sure why I was lying to her. Maybe because I didn’t want her to know how eager I was to read the damn thing, or that I’d gotten shit sleep because I couldn't put it down. I needed to try and keep that wall of professionalism up, no matter the cost. Even if it made me a fucking liar.
“I’ll be heading out early today,” I said, blessedly changing subjects. “I’ve got my boys this week, so I’ll leave at two forty-five to get them until Friday. You’ll have that time off, too.”
“Will we get behind?” she asked, all worried.
“No. Besides, we’ll meet Saturday and Sunday to make up for it. You don’t mind giving up your precious weekend to work, do you?”
She smiled.
“No. Not with this job. Although, my roommate hates you since I’m never home to cook her dinner anymore.”
I barked a laugh.
“She can come and lay into me for it. If she dares.”
“She’s more likely to flirt with you than berate you.”
That had my eyebrows rising.
“She’s got a thing for older guys,” she admitted, face blushing all pretty and pink.
“Does she? I’m sure she’s the only one who shares the opinion.”
Mia looked anywhere but at me as she murmured, “I don’t know. They’re not so bad.”
The words punched me right in the chest, and I struggled to catch my breath again.
“So, uh, you’ll talk to the plagiarizer tomorrow?” she blurted.
“Uh, yep, right,” I agreed, bumbling like an idiot.
Her naïvety was cute on her. It wasn’t cute on a man of my age.
We didn’t say anything else for the hour and a half she had before her next class. I just watched her nibble on a sandwich while we silently worked, trying not to stare at her lips like a creeper.
It was actually a relief when she left, waving at me and wishing me a good time with my boys. I wouldn’t see her again until Tuesday, which was probably a good thing. My obsession with my little TA was a problem that needed to be fixed. Maybe it was all the time we spent together in an inclosed space that did it. The distance would do us good, and I could move on in the meantime.
Time went so fucking slowly after she left, and the hours of one to three took so long. I couldn’t write or plan my next lesson, and I was practically crawling out of my skin by the time it came to leave.
I hurried to my car, a more reasonable sedan instead of my sexy Porsche Boxster coupe. The sedan was my family car, and the Boxter was my mid-life crisis. Paula hadn’t understood it, but I wanted something physical to show for all the fucking work I’d put into my success. Was it too much to enjoy some of that success?
