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I gave it a long minute before putting my phone down.
Shit, I’d scared her away. So much for that wall I’d been trying to build. It was more like a queue line, begging her to follow the velvet ropes that led toward me.
What the fuck was wrong with m—
My phone buzzed and I dove for it like a fucking Olympic swimmer.
Mia Miller: How does a sapiophile find a date at a bar if they're only attracted to intelligence?
Relief rushed through me, and I smiled.
Me: Fake it ‘til you make it, and ask about history and literature. People sort themselves out pretty quickly with subjects like that.
Mia Miller: What advice would you give to me? I mean, if I ever met a sapiophile and wanted to impress him.
Again with my impulsive behavior, I wrote and sent the text before I could second guess myself, then slapped my forehead in frustration. Professors don’t say that kind of shit to their TAs!
Me: Don’t change a fucking thing.
Chapter 6
-Mia-
Professor Harlo: Don’t change a fucking thing.
I couldn’t breathe.
The last couple days had been a series of innuendos and what felt like whispered hints that he wanted me. Of course, I realized that it was probably just projecting, because that man made me forget my brain and made me feel like the smartest woman in the world all at the same time.
Not only did Professor Owen Harlo have an amazing career as a teacher, and as a writer, but he had the body of a supermodel. Combine that with his asshole-ish tendencies, and the tender moments of care he’s shown over the last few weeks, I was falling head over heels for him.
The biggest problem was, infatuation evidently made me brave, evidently.
When he told me to ask away, my heart practically stopped when he gave me his description of my character. He thought I was naïve, yes, but in a lot of ways I agreed with him. I was still young, and I looked forward to making messes and screwing things up in order to learn and get wise. I also loved that not once in the reasons he liked me was my looks. I knew I wasn’t the prettiest girl. I wasn’t a cheerleader type. In fact, I got bullied by the cheer squad and their followers throughout high school. Even still, I wasn’t ugly, either, and I knew that, too. I did my best with staying fresh, wearing the perfume I got from the Bath and Body Works website, and applying mascara just to keep me from looking washed out. Owen was probably used to so much better than that. No wonder he didn’t want me.
But…did he?
Those moments in conversation ended real quick, so it was hard to catch them sometimes. It was like he realized what he was doing and just…cut it off.
“Good morning,” I said, walking into Professor Harlo’s office, not bothering to knock since I knew he was inside already.
A loud thump sounded from my left, so my head whipped around just to see Owen holding his forearm like he’d banged it.
“Fuck me,” he ground out, leaning over the appendage in pain while he sucked in a couple breaths.
“Are you ok?” I gasped, hurrying over to help him.
I reached for his arm just as his other hand outstretched to stop my approach.
“Nope, I’m good, I’m good,” he said, sounding a little bit frantic. “Time got away from me, is all. You startled me.”
My eyes fell to his lap where he cradled his arm and I saw the button and zipper splayed open, a hint of blue underwear peeking past his black slacks.
Oh GOD!
Had he been…?
“Sit,” Owen growled, pointing to my chair, which left his lap nicely covered up by the desk.
