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CHAPTER SIX
“Hey, Dr. Janison,” I called as I flagged her down with my hand. “Good morning. Those are some kick-ass shoes.”
Dr. Janison was my favorite professor at Waterford, and not just because she knew a damn fine Jimmy Choo when she saw one. I loved her
teaching style too. She knew how to make Early British Literature interesting when I was not a fan of that particular period in the least.
She gave me a vague nod. “Good morning,” she said in that polite, distant way that told me she didn’t know I was one of her students. Then she glanced at her pumps. “And thank you.”
I was opening my mouth to explain which class of hers I attended when she glanced toward Mason and instantly paled.
Face blanched of all color, she skipped a step back as if she was about to take flight in her four-inch Jimmys. “Mr. Lowe,” she nearly whispered, sounding terrified as she gaped at him with wide eyes.
He didn’t make eye contact, merely mumbled, “Dr. Janison.”
Realizing the professor had probably heard rumor of his reputation—and didn’t approve—I felt suddenly protective.
Gah, just because he was a gigolo didn’t mean he had the plague.
I set my hand on the arm he had resting on the tabletop. I only wanted to banish some of her worries, assure her he wasn’t diseased. But when Dr. Janison’s gaze darted to where my fingers sizzled against his skin, she didn’t appear reassured. She looked even more disturbed as she glanced between us.
Not sure how to kill all the awkward floating around us, I forced a bigger smile. “I found a pair of knock-off Jimmy Choos similar to that style online one time, in a silver pump, and I wanted them so bad. But even the replicas were more than I could afford.”
If the pair she was wearing was original, then the woman was easily standing on eight hundred dollars.
But instead of revealing the secret to me about whether they were knock-offs or not, she sent me a knowing kind of smile. “I do have expensive taste.”
When her gaze flittered back to Mason, all the muscles in his arm under my hand tensed.
“Is our meeting to discuss your class schedule still on for this Thursday, Mr. Lowe?” She looked pointedly at me as if she expected any negative answer from him would be my fault.
Understanding, I suddenly forgot how to breathe. Oh, my God. Dr. Janison? And Mason? No way.
His voice wasn’t tight or strained as he answered, “Of course,” but I could’ve sworn he was talking through clenched teeth, and he still refused to look at her.
She gave a single nod. “Good.” I swear she looked relieved by his answer. With one last glance at me, she murmured, “I look forward to seeing you then.” Turning away, she strolled off in her kick-ass shoes, which I suddenly had the urge to boot out from under her.
I whirled to Mason. “You don’t have any classes with her, do you?”
He popped his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “No.”
I shut my gaping mouth. “Oh.”
Hissing something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch, he snapped his messenger bag off the table with vicious force. “This was a mistake. I never should’ve sat beside you.”
My heart thudded against my chest. “Well, thanks a lot.” I forced my voice to sound offended instead of hurt, when honestly, I was a whole lot of both. “I had a sucktactular time talking to you too.”
Jerk face.
“I didn’t…” He closed his eyes and fisted his hands before sitting back down. “Reese, I didn’t mean it that way. I swear.”
“Then how exactly did you mean it? Because it sounded pretty rude from every angle I heard it.”
His lashes fluttered open before he pierced me with one of his intense, paralyzing stares. “Don’t you get it?” He glanced around the courtyard. “I just doomed you. By talking to you in public, by sitting with you at this table…” He whooshed out his arm to motion to our surroundings. “Everyone here thinks we’ve had sex.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, whatever. I seriously doubt that. I barely even touched your arm. People do not…” But my words faded off as I glanced around. Everyone really was stealing speculative glances in our direction and talking behind their hands. I sank lower in my seat, feeling instantly ostracized. “Or maybe they do.”
Holy salted tomatoes, Batman. He must have a mighty heavy reputation if simply sitting beside him automatically made me a slut. “So…uh, Dr. Janison is really one of your, umm, clients then?”
