My eyes flit back toward our professor, already wondering if he’ll be there. I shrug as I look back toward Sam. “I might try to get some schoolwork done at home instead. Spend some time with Milo.”
He gives me a playful wink. “I swear you love that cat more than people.”
“You’re not wrong.” I shrug.
He laughs. “Well, I’m thinking of heading there around seven to meet Derek if you wanna join.”
“Who’s Derek?”
“The guy I met last Tuesday. He wants to see me again,” Sam says, puffing out his chest proudly.
“Do we like Derek?” I ask with a little smile.
“We might,” Sam says, mulling it over. “The jury’s still out.”
“I’ll let you know how I’m feeling after I get home and get some work done.”
Sam gives me a nod before Professor Stirling clears his throat to get everyone’s attention as he starts the lecture.
I try my best to take clear and concise notes, I really do. But halfway through the lecture, Professor Stirling unbuttons his shirt sleeves and rolls them up, showing off perfectly muscled forearms.
If the man wants short sleeves, why doesn’t he dress accordingly?I think to myself, holding in a groan. The dress pants and button-ups, paired with wanting physical copies of our work and refusing to let any of us call him anything besides ‘Professor Stirling,’ make me think this guy’s as old-fashioned as it comes. I’m surprised both times I’ve seen him at the bar that he’s been drinking beer and not whiskey neat, that feels like something this man should be partaking in.
I drum my fingers against my desk as the lecture continues. He turns his back to the class as he writes something on the blackboard, and I pull my phone out of my bag, open the web browser, and pull up the school’s website. I glance up to make sure the professor’s attention is still on the blackboard as I click on the faculty page and type in ‘Stirling’.
His picture pops up right next to his name, Asher Stirling.
Asher, that name is surprising. I would’ve guessed it would be something more traditional. Some old family name, maybe a name that’s passed down from father to son over the generations. Not something so… cool? Interesting?Hot?
“Ms. Nyx,” Asher’s sharp voice rings across the room.Professor Stirling. Do not start calling him by his first name.“Is something on your cellphone more interesting than my lecture?”
My head snaps up to see our professor glaring at me. I click my phone off and quickly shake my head. “Sorry, Professor.”
“May I continue the lesson now?” he asks, gesturing back toward his writing on the blackboard and the PowerPoint screen.
“Yes, sir,” I mutter, slouching down in my seat, hoping that the floor will open up and swallow me whole.
Professor Stirling turns back to the board and continues with his lecture as I let my hair fall in front of my face, hoping no one can see my flaming cheeks.
“Pst!” Sam hisses at me. I scrunch my brows at him and give a small shake of my head. I refuse to get in trouble twice within just a handful of minutes. “What were you looking at?” Sam asks, ignoring my look. “What was it?” he whispers. I ignore him, looking at the strong, broad shoulders of our professor. A balled-up piece of paper bounces off the side of my head, and I look at Sam incredulously.
“You’re going to get us kicked out of class,” I say in a hushed tone.
Sam waves his hand at my phone, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. I look toward the front of the class to make sure our teacher is still facing away from us before I quickly hand over my phone. I watch Sam unlock it and stare at Professor Stirling’s faculty page. “Asher?” he mouths back at me, fanning himself.
I roll my eyes as Sam tosses my phone back to me. I quickly drop it in my bag and refuse to look at Sam. The rest of class goes by without incident, and as soon as our professor dismisses us, I am out of my seat and making a beeline for the door.
Sam is right behind me but has the decency to wait until we’re out in the hall before he says, “Care to tell me why you were looking up our professor?”
I scramble for some kind of non-creepy answer. “I was just thinking about what a stickler he is and remembered how adamant he was about not calling him anything besides ‘Professor Stirling.’ So, I got curious about what his first name was.” I shrug as if that’s completely normal.
“Out of all the names he could’ve had,” Sam sighs almost wistfully.
“I know, right?” I say back. “I thought he’d have a name like Gerald or Christian.”
“LikeChristian Grey?” Sam exclaims, practically bouncing up and down.
“You know I hate it when you try to connect things to50 Shades of Grey,” I groan.
