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I swing my bag up onto my shoulder, my sweater still on but left open with a large percentage of my bust on display. His eyes flick to the showing on my approach but divert relatively quickly as he goes back to putting papers in his briefcase.
“Sorry for the tardiness today, Professor,” I say smartly, raising just one eyebrow in a way that I know he’ll understand.
He chuckles briefly before remarking, “That’s okay. I’d say we’re even now.”
“Oh yeah. We are,” I agree easily. “Interesting use of props for today’s Tolstoy discussion.”
“Definitely was interesting,” he says, and his smile deepens. But it’s more than just a smile; it’s a nonverbal cue. It’s his way of telling me he thinks he’s won our little game.
That smile gets in my craw and turns my focus laser sharp. Instead of simply accepting the situation for what it is, there’s nothing more important to me in this moment than leaving with me on top again.
I step forward then, pushing my body into the side of his arm and placing my lips to his ear. He shivers at the unexpected contact, his eyes widening slightly.
“There’s just one thing no one managed to catch on to when they were describing me today,” I whisper, grabbing Ty’s chin and turning it so he’ll face me. He swallows hard, and I grin.
“And w-what’s that?”
“Hot for teacher.” I wink and push myself up on my tippy-toes to just barely brush my lips over his.
He jumps at the contact, and my stomach flips over on itself.
With one last bout of eye contact, I finally turn on my heel and head for the door without looking back.
Have I mentioned that I’ll do anything to win?
Take that, Professor. Who’s in charge now?
Saturday, February 2nd
Ty
I tuck my shirt into my jeans and roll up the sleeves to my forearms before grabbing my phone from its spot on the nightstand and checking for messages from my family.
There are a couple from my sister Winnie, primarily reminding me not to forget to show up for Daisy’s baby shower today—as if I would flake out on something that important—and one from my mom, asking that I not mention the fact that she’s trying out online dating to the rest of the family.
Don’t worry, Wendy, that’s exactly the last conversation I want to get into with Flynn, one of the most aggressively protective assholes alive, while I’m supposed to be celebrating Daisy’s twins.
I mentioned it to Remy already, but honestly, he seemed more interested in blowing a banana than talking about our mom’s love life. I don’t think she has anything to worry about.
I shoot her a text back, promising to keep her sexual reawakening on the down-low, and then bop over to my contacts to scroll through my list of eligible women. After spending far too much time out of sorts, I’m ready to get back on my game. Obviously, I need a reminder of exactly who Ty Winslow is, and I’m going to give it to him—me…whatever.
I only have a little bit of time to secure a date, but I’m confident I can pull through.
After a random scroll, I land on a number and get ready to hit call, but another text message buzzes in my hand and sends a banner down from the top of the screen. I’m expecting another family member, but it’s not.
It’s the woman I’ve been avoiding for the last several days like a pussy. I couldn’t help it, though. Every time she blinked at me with those big, sexy green eyes, I lost another ounce of cool. If I would’ve kept it up all week, there wouldn’t have been anything left of me by today, and then I would have been a no-show for Daisy’s shower.
And I’d also have to deal with Flynn resurrecting me from the dead just to kill me again. Honestly, it’d just be a whole messy thing.
Avoiding her was the way to go. Especially after she whispered hot for teacher in my ear. It had taken me a good twenty minutes to compose myself after she’d said those words and sashayed her curvy ass out of my lecture hall.
But surely a text message is safe enough. She can’t get me flustered with words, right?
Rachel: Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I need the finalized questions for the Classic Lit exam so I can get them ready for Tuesday. I’d do it tomorrow or Monday, but I have a paper of my own due. I tried to catch you after class the last few days, but we never seemed to cross paths.
That’s…well…true. Because for the last few days, I’ve been putting more energy into avoiding Rachel than anything else in my life. Work, the gym, food—none of it has mattered, as long as I can get out of the building before Rachel every day.
