Page 7 of Bless My Heart

I look down at the roster sheet I printed out but didn’t read and frantically search for a Wes. I scan and scan and bam. There it is. Weston Mitchell. Fuck my life. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. There is absolutely nothing I can do about this right now. I’ve got to get through this class, and then I can go find a wall to bang my head against.

I look back up at the crowd of students and try my absolute best to not look at Wes, but my eyes keep landing back on his. Thankfully, he looks just as surprised as I am.

“I hope everyone read the syllabus I posted on the student portal.” Yep, I’ll just keep talking like everything is fine and that the man who gave me the best orgasm of my life isn’t currently sitting in my lecture hall because he is a freaking student. How could this happen? How could I not realize how young he is? To be fair, he doesn’t look young. He looks like a well-built, strong, sexy man. Jesus, Hazel. Focus.

At least he’s probably a senior since he’s in a high-level Econ class.

“I’m sure most of you know what Microeconomics is by this point in your education, but I’m going to give a quick definition as a refresher.” I find the clock on the back wall of the lecture hall, where I decide to keep my eyes focused. If I don’t, I know they’ll end up right back on Wes. I know he’s looking at me. Well, everyone is looking at me because I’m the freaking professor, but his gaze feels extra intense. “Microeconomics is the study of individuals, households, and firms’ behavior in making decisions and assigning resources.”

My hand shakes as I bring it to my laptop to start my slides. I take another deep breath and continue my lecture. I can do this. I’m Dr. Hazel Greenwood, and I can do anything. Oh my God. I sound like my mom.

Somehow, I manage to get through all of my slides. I try my best to avoid looking at Wes, and I relax as I get further into the lecture. It appears he’s not going to jump up and yell that he slept with the professor. Not that I thought he would, but I don’t know. I don’t even really know the guy.

I dismiss the class, and everyone files out of the lecture hall. I pack my laptop and papers into my bag, pretending everything is just completely normal. I finally think I’m in the clear when I hear a smooth voice ask, “Dr. Greenwood, can we talk?”

CHAPTER FOUR

WES

“Of course, I’m always available for my students,” Hazel says, trying her very best not to make eye contact with me. I can’t help but smile.

I look around and see that there are only a handful of people left in the lecture hall, but I still lower my voice so only she can hear. “I thought you were just passing through …”

Her head snaps up, and she finally meets my eyes for the first time since she initially recognized me. “Yeah, same for you.”

“Well, I guess that makes us both liars,” I tell her.

“I guess so,” she agrees.

Her cheeks are flushed, and I can tell she doesn’t want to have this conversation. I don’t really want to have this conversation either, but I figured it would be best to get it over with now rather than make the whole semester awkward. I’ve got to make sure that our little situation won’t cause any issues. This is my senior year. I can’t afford not to pass. I need to make sure that Haze—uh, Dr. Greenwood—isn’t the kind of professor to fail someone because she has a personal grudge against them.

I don’t know how she could possibly have a grudge against me, though. I mean, I rocked her world that night. I can still feel her pussy clenching around me. If anything, she should pass me for that reason alone.

“You’re a senior, I’m guessing, right?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“How did you not know I was a professor when you saw me?” Wait, what? She can’t be blaming this on me.

“Well, I haven’t had a class with you before. I didn’t recall seeing any hot AF professors walking these halls last semester. And, you have purple hair. How many professors have purple hair?Literally, zero.” I turn it back to her, “How did you not know I was a student?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. You don’t look like a student.”

“Ok, so we both didn’t realize we had ties to this university. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”

“I hate to ask you this, but is it possible for you to transfer into another microeconomics class?”

“They’re all full.” I hate that I feel a little sad she wants me out of her class. I mean, I get it, but it still sucks. “And, I have to take this class this semester if I’m going to graduate on time.”

She rubs her fingers on her temples like she’s trying to think.

“Ok, I can do this…we can do this. Just please don’t tell anyone about, you know, that night.” She looks around to make sure no one heard her even though we’re now alone in the lecture hall.

“Of course not.” I try my hardest not to laugh at how cute she is.

“I would probably lose my job if anyone found out.”

“Haz—. Sorry, Dr. Greenwood. I won’t tell anyone even though I wasn’t technically your student that night.”