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I’m almost done.
‘That’s it. Read the two cases and summarise judgements before Thursday.’
There’s a commotion as everyone stands but Connor holds his hands up, silencing us once more. ‘And the Law School Ball on Friday night is not optional. Dean Walters has asked me to remind you to come, dress up and be on your best behaviour.’ He pulls a face that is half mocking, full hot. ‘But seriously, you guys, this is an incredible opportunity to meet real-world professionals and socialise with representatives of some of the top-tier firms in the country. So be prepared to make a good impression and it might lead to an interview for those of you planning to undertake your training contracts.’
I try to imagine Connor Hughes ever going to one of these balls with the intention of sucking up, and fail. Even as a student, I bet he was as arrogant as they came. You don’t learn that kind of attitude; it’s innate.
A hand somewhere to my left shoots up in the air.
‘Yes, Miss Cave?’
‘What if we already know where we want to apply?’
Connor shrugged. ‘So? Apply.’
‘Okay. Can I email you direct?’
Everyone laughs, Connor included. ‘Sure.’
But I don’t laugh.
Something uncomfortable slides through me, twisting my organs. Is Benita Cave flirting with Connor?
Is he flirting back?
More heat spreads through my cheeks. I’m so distracted by this unpleasant notion that I barely notice people are leaving until the class is almost empty and I’m this close to being alone with Connor once more.
Shit.
I pack up quickly, squishing my book into my bag and tossing it over my shoulder. I jam my phone into the back pocket of my jeans as I stand and straighten my simple white singlet top so that it sits properly over my waistband.
‘You know—’ Connor’s voice is soft and even though other students are still milling around I know he’s addressing me ‘—it’s not a great idea to be chatting on your phone during class.’
My ears are hot.
‘I wasn’t on the phone during class,’ I point out, changing trajectory and moving towards the desk.
‘I beg to differ.’
‘With respect, sir, it was before class.’
His eyes narrow, and seem to change colour. ‘I was here, wasn’t I? Thus the class had begun.’
I’m tempted to argue with him—I want to argue with him. But Connor Hughes is obviously used to people doing exactly what he wants, when he wants. Plus, he’s my lecturer and I know I can’t say what I’m thinking. Because I’m a good girl.
I press my fingertips into the edge of his desk. Breath is burning through me and my chest heaves with the effort. We stare at each other for a long time. Or maybe it’s just seconds. I don’t know. Time seems to stand still. It’s heavy around me, like wading through just-poured concrete.
‘Shut the door, Miss Amorelli.’
Oh, God. Here we are again. The tension stretches between us, pulling so hard, so tight, that I think it might actually snap me in half.
But a thrill of adrenalin is surging in my veins simultaneously. I want this. I need it. To be alone with him, even for a few stolen minutes, even knowing nothing can happen. I storm towards the door as though I’m pissed off and not excited. I push it shut and whip around to face him.
He’s sitting at the desk, a bemused expression on his handsome-as-sin face.
‘Yes?’ I press back against the door, all but willing him to come and hold his body to mine.
He stands slowly, unfurling his frame and prowling across the room. He comes close, but not close enough.
