Page 12 of Stranger to Love

Her head practically swivelled. She blushed instantly, the colour rising beautifully on her neck. She really was so cute. She panicked for a fraction of a second before composing herself and muttering, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I stole a glance at her. She was staring at me like she couldn't decide if she wanted to punch me or kiss me. Meh, I’d take either.

This was so interesting. She ostensibly came over there to lay down the law—explain that she was a professional, that she would never have done it if she’d known, blah blah blah. So why was she still sitting there?

She looked me up and down, then asked, “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” I countered immediately, lifting an eyebrow.

She opened her mouth to snap back, but thought better of it. “I asked first.”

I shrugged. “Twenty, nearly twenty-one.”

She visibly relaxed even further, and I didn’t blame her; I’d be feeling sick myself if I thought I’d accidentally slept with an eighteen-year-old Fresher. Thankfully, I’ve always given off an air of maturity, so it was unlikely she had thought I was a teenager in the first place, but the age gap must have been the main anxiety on her mind when she saw me in that classroom.

She nodded, looking like she’d just been handed a gift.

I chuckled, placing my textbook down because, clearly, we were going to keep talking. “How old are you, Blondie?”

“Stop calling me Blondie,” she said, attempting to sound stern.

I shook my head, refusing, and she rolled her eyes, muttering, “Thirty-four.”

I raised my eyebrows. Fair enough; I would have guessed thirty. “Damn, good for you.”

She smirked at the genuine compliment, relaxing even more. I liked her. Not in a serious, pursuit kind of way, but I genuinely enjoyed her company. She was so cute, flitting between confident, snarky remarks and being completely flustered.

“Billie,” she said, her eyes fixed determinedly on the desk.

What the fuck was she on about? I laughed. “Any context available?”

She finally smirked. “My name is Billie. You may as well know; after the first couple of weeks here, faculty tend to relax more and use first names. This isn’t school.”

Billie. I never would have guessed. But now that I looked at her, I could see the rough edges, the bit of sass and confidence that a name like that would earn. I couldn’t hold back the smirk. “You know what? It suits you.” I then held out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Billie. I’m Alex.”

She rolled her eyes, but she shook my hand firmly. “Nice to meet you too.”

I gave her hand a short squeeze before letting go. She gave the desk a quick, final tap with her finger to signal for departure. She stood, smoothing her skirt and blouse. Yes, I looked her over, and yes, she caught me.

She sighed, exasperated. “Stop looking at me like that, Alex.”

“I’m only human!” I put up my hands defensively.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re no better than a man.”

I dropped my jaw in mock offence. “That is fucking insulting.”

She tilted her head, challenging me. “But true.”

Okay, yeah, fine, but still. I crossed my arms defensively, and she actually chuckled. “See you around, Alex. Try to stop drooling over me.”

I smirked—yeah, I definitely liked her. “You wouldn’t have noticed my drool if you weren’t also looking.”

She blushed; of course she did. “Shut up,” she muttered, tucking a piece of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. My smile widened when I spotted the now yellowish mark on her neck—the one I had left. She instantly realised what I was looking at and hastily smoothed her hair back into place to cover it.

I smiled. “You’ve done well to hide that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment before groaning. “I said, shut up.” She turned sharply to walk away.