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“Yes, Mia?” he asked, glancing up at me, for a moment between stacking and sorting papers.
He didn’t seem affected, so it must have just been me who had chills running down their spine.
“I’ve been wondering, and I wanted to ask you, but don’t answer if you don’t want to… I mean, if it’s…”
Finally, he looked up at me and met my eyes.
“Spit it out, Miss Miller,” he said with a quirk of his lips, giving away that he was amused.
I gave a relieved smile back and blurted my question out.
“Why meet with Ms. Grey? You have plenty of proof to give to the Dean and get her expelled, or at the very least, fail her in the class. I don’t mean to question your method, I just…I guess I just want to know why.”
He nodded, then tilted his head toward the door. “Walk with me.”
I followed him toward the parking lot, the time inching just past four in the afternoon, long after when he’d said he was supposed to pick up his kids.
“I could fail her,” he agreed as we made our way toward the front door of the building. “Maybe even expel her if the Dean sees fit. But I want to hear her out and give her a chance before it goes on her record. I’d like to hear the reasoning behind the plagiarized lines. If I see fit, I’ll let her re-write the paper and we’ll forget the whole thing. If not, then I will fail her and maybe we’ll see her next semester.”
“And what would convince you to give her a second chance?”
He shrugged.
“I’ll just know,” was his answer.
I smiled.
“You’re a conundrum, Professor Harlo,” I told him, following him to his car.
I didn’t add the last part, which made me blush. A conundrum that I’d very much like to unwrap.
“Stop fucking calling me Professor,” he said with half a groan and half a laugh.
I laughed back at him, pausing at the curb.
“Need a ride back to your building?” he asked, checking his watch.
“No. You go get your pre-pre teens.”
“No fucking kidding. Pre-pre is right. Eight years old. Ugh…”
I laughed again as he sank into the driver seat of an innocuous silver sedan.
He paused before closing the door and looked up at me, as if waiting for something.
“Have a good day, Owen,” I told him, lifting a hand.
He finally closed the door, then lifted a hand in a wave. The car engine turned over, and his window sank down.
“Remember,” he said, a knowing smirk tilting his lips. “Keep Saturday open. You’re all mine.”
I grinned back at him, nodded, then waved again as he left.
“OMG! Who’s that?” came that voice I knew so well.
I jumped, turning to my best friend on campus, Clea.
“Girl! You scared me,” I scolded, planting my hand on my chest before watching to see if I could still glance the back of Owen’s car. I couldn’t. He was already gone.
