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“How can you maintain enrollment in my class through the remainder of the semester? You seem to be a constant distraction to the other students and a nuisance to me.”
Ouch.
I drop my gaze.
“The drop date hasn’t passed,” he notes, his tone gentling only slightly.
So he wants to be rid of me.
I can’t say I blame him.
“I need this class,” I beg in a whispered tone. The four words are all I can manage. My throat is squeezed so tight with stifled emotion.
“There are other upper-division architecture courses,” he says, leaning back, as if already finished deciding my fate.
“None like yours. I want to study conservation in graduate school. I need this class to reflect my interest in that area.” I force myself to meet his gaze once again. “Please.”
He studies me then, and it’s the first time I’ve seen his brows almost relax into thoughtful repose. His blue eyes are so soft now.
You are a thing of beauty, Professor Barclay.
He looks away and notes, “Professor Lin teaches this course in the spring. You can take it then.”
So that’s it.
My fate is decided by him in such a cavalier way, as if I mean nothing. I’m a problem he needs to solve quickly. A nuisance, as he put it.
The courage I’ve been trying to muster finally finds me. My shoulders rise and roll back, and my eyes lock with his, sparring. My words are biting when I ask him, “Is that all?”
The worst thing of all, the absolute worst thing is that he doesn’t even seem fazed by this show of confidence. He looks…bored. He nods, says, “Yes,” and then waves half-heartedly toward the door as if he’s not sure why I’m still standing there in his office.
I’ve never in my entire life hated someone more than I hate Professor Barclay right now.
I almost…almostflip him off before turning on my heel and walking out of his office, pointedly leaving the door open behind me. If he wants it closed, he can damn well get up and do it himself.
