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“It’s good to get critiques early on. I’ve done some beta reading for some friends of mine over the years, but I’ll admit, romance is a new area for me, so I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
“Just having your opinion on if it’s crap or not will make a huge difference,” I told him.
“Good, then send me the manuscript when you have time. Meanwhile, we’ve got several papers to get through, and I gave my English 101 class a test today. It’s only two weeks in, but I’m curious if they’ve absorbed anything yet.”
I chuckled.
“Do you want me to work on tests or papers?”
He lifted an eyebrow and shoved a decent sized stack of papers at me.
“Either-or? Darling, you get to do them all.”
I sighed as he laughed.
Evidently the asshole tendencies weren’t a one-time deal.
“Sure,” I agreed, taking the papers. “It’s my job after all, right?”
“Precisely,” he agreed. “Now, here’s the answer key to the test. I’ll be right here if you need me. But don’t need me. Got it?”
I blinked at him, but chose not to answer because he had already moved on and was face-first into his computer screen.
I took the first paper off the desk and sighed.
Professor Harlo, or, Owen, I supposed, plopped a red felt tipped marker in front of me, eyes not moving from the screen.
It made me wonder just how much of his attention was actually on the computer, and how much he was watching me grade from the side of his eye.
With my first red mark scratched on the page, his shoulders seemed to drop a little in relief.
“Neither of these classes need the papers back for a couple days,” he told me, leaning back into his chair, though his face was still on his laptop. “No need to get it all done tonight.”
My tired eyes were already crossing, so I counted my lucky stars that he didn't want it all done in one sitting.
“I’ll do as much as I can tonight, then come finish tomorrow,” I told him.
He nodded.
“Fine by me,” he said, then silence descended, nothing but taps on his keyboard and the familiar scratch of the pen on paper was between us until close to ten at night.
“Go home,” he eventually said, “The rest will wait ‘til tomorrow.”
I nodded, rubbing my tired eyes.
“Goodnight Profess—Owen.”
“Goodnight, Mia,” he said, voice low and gravelly from disuse.
The dang sound of it slammed straight through my body, and suddenly, I wasn’t so tired anymore.
I let myself out and breathed the cold, fresh air in the hallway. The place was really deserted by that point, all the classes for the evening over with.
So, spooked by the stillness of the place, I hurried and headed home, walking in the dark to my dorm.
I got back fine, no incidents keeping me.
“How was it?” Clea asked from her bed, her phone in her hands as she watched her nightly, brainless reality TV.
