“Okay,” he says, hunkering down for what appears to be a debate. “Jokes about our hot professor aside, what about the guy who came up to you a while ago?” I rattle my brain around for who he’s talking about, but come up blank. He sees the confusedlook on my face and laughs. “You know, that guy that came up to you after you got told off in front of the whole class for being on your phone? When you were looking up our professor’s first name?”
“Yes, yes,” I say quickly, not needing to relive that embarrassing moment. “What about him?”
“Why not go out with him?” He shrugs. “Didn’t he say you were pretty?”
“He didn’t even ask for my phone number, and he’s barely spoken to me since,” I point out. “He’s probably drowning in schoolwork like the rest of us and decided dating right now would be a nuisance.” I’m taking four classes this semester, which is one more than my advisor recommended. The last thing I need is distractions in the form of random, most likely boring, dates.
Sam holds up a finger. “Dating should not be a nuisance.” A second finger springs up. “Maybe he hasn’t asked you out because he can’t tell if you’re interested or not.”
“I’m not interested,” I state.
“Not even one date?” he whines.
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because I don’t want you to be forty with like six cats.”
“I only have one cat,” I say defensively.
“That’s how it starts,” he responds gravely.
“Look, I will… keep an open mind,” I offer. “But I’m not going to date just to date, okay?”
“Summer, when’s the last time you got laid?”
I scoff. “Not important.”
“Uh, yes, it is,” he shoots back, throwing another chip my way. “I happen to believe that if you got off, even once, you’d be a happier person.”
“I’m happy.” I scrunch my eyebrows at him.
“Less cynical?” he offers. “Not grumpy? Your skin would probably glow.”
“Very few men are that good in bed.”
“Very fewstraightmen,” he corrects me.
“Touche.”
I use Sundayto get ahead on my coursework, and the day passes with Milo in my lap and my fingers flying across my keyboard. Classes on Monday pass without incident. I trade one assignment for another in each class and have just finished a meeting with my advisor when I make my way toward the elevators of the admin building.
I sigh as I trudge down the hall. High school, college, and grad school advisors are all pointless. Each semester, we have a mandatory meeting with our advisors to plan out the following semester’s class schedule. Since I have only a few classes left, the meeting felt unnecessarily long-winded, so I quickly tried to ask about other things. I had been hoping to conduct my clinic interviews for my practicum placement early, but my advisor held firm to the original spring dates without providing a reason. In my first year as a grad student, I asked if I could take an extra class per semester to graduate early, but they shot that idea down, too. Requesting a different advisor elicited similar responses.
I hear the elevator ding, and I pick up my pace, hoping not to be stuck waiting for too long. The elevators in the older buildingstend to take forever to come back around, and I want to get home and start my homework as soon as possible.
“Hold the door!” I yell as I dart toward the closing elevator doors. A large hand shoots out and stops the metal doors, allowing me to slip inside. “Thanks,” I say, slightly breathless. I turn to see a broad chest, covered by a starched white button-up. My eyes travel up wide shoulders, a strong jaw, until they stop, meeting bright green eyes.
“No problem,” Professor Stirling murmurs, gritting his teeth so that a muscle in that perfect jaw twitches.
We stand in awkward silence as I search for anything to say.Thanks for yet another grueling homework assignment, sir? The elevator jolts before coming to a halt, and an alarm beeps overhead. I look up, startled as Professor Stirling groans.
“Dammit,” he bites out before jamming his finger against the call button.
He crosses his arms, pushing glorious biceps out as he taps his foot impatiently.
He glances over at me and notices me blatantly checking him out. I quickly look away, red flames climbing up over my cheeks.
The intercom crackles to life, and a staticky voice surrounds us. “Yo, something up?”
