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A few of the other students chatter, probably remembering that detail now that she brought it up.
I force my professional smile.
“Yes, this course will have two teachers, but not every single class. Some days he’ll be here with me, or it could just be either of us alone.”
I continue with class and except for a few more questions it passes smoothly. That and increasingly difficult feat of not looking at the cute blonde in the front row.
The class steadily trickles out of the room, and I start putting my things in order to hammer out the next lesson plan when I realize there was a straggler waiting in front of my desk.
I raise my head expecting to find the girl who was responsible for most of the questions during class, but I’m instead greeted by soft baby blue eyes.
“Mr. Frazier, it’s really an honor to be in your class. Your coding, especially for someone so young, is inspiring.”
I just look at her for a heartbeat, trying to find a crack in the sincerity on her face. There isn’t one. A tiny warmth fills my chest, but I try to shake it off.
“Thank you, though it’s been a decade or so since then,” I say with a laugh.
Her eyes widen, and for a second, I’m lost in the electric enthusiasm inside them.
“Are you kidding? Dating apps are incredibly complex and from a product standpoint you have to balance so many things. Not only do you have to have the psychological background to identify a person’s personality and preference but then you need to match them with a compatible personality. And on top of that you need to balance that with the often-conflicting desire of the user to find people who very likely wouldn’t be a good match for them in the first place. Creating an algorithm to juggle all of that and more is insanity, and you did it.”
She’s an excited little thing, isn’t she?
Her face tints red, and she shakes her head like it will erase the last paragraph she just recited.
“Anyway, I’m very invested in this class. If there is anything that I can do for extra credit, please let me know.”
Did she just… no there’s no way. This isn’t a porno; this is real life. She’s most likely just trying to butter me up to get an easier “A” out of me.
“Sure thing, Ms.?”
Her eyes widen when she realizes that she never actually introduced herself.
“Oh, I’m Evelyn,” she answers. “Evelyn Blackthorne.”
“Ms. Blackthorne,” I say with a nod and a smile.
Satisfied that she’s left a good impression she walks out like the rest of class, and I’m left alone in the empty classroom.
As I work on what I’m going to go over for next class, Evelyn’s words get me thinking. Designing EasyLove at the ripe ol’ age of eighteen. I went from a high school student to a millionaire over the course of a few years. By the time I could legally drink I could’ve bought the whole damn bar.
Hell, if it wasn’t for Logan I’d be up there with Zuckerberg, but who else would I be saddled with as a co-teacher, but the founder of my app’s biggest rival, Logan Davis Klein.
Fifty-Two
Logan
There’s nothing quite like a bright sunny day at Stanford. Walking into the lecture hall, I’m thankful that I’m alone today — it’s so much easier to teach without some knob looking over your shoulder. I could cope with it if it was another intellectual, but certainly not Sean.
The bastard always thinks he’s better than me just because we came up with dating apps at the same time. He shows it off boldly, directly competing with my ads. I shouldn’t have to compete with him in general, but here we are, having to do it in person.
I breathe in deeply as I unpack my laptop and set it up to powerpoint.Just focus on today,I tell myself. I love teaching as much as I love running my business, so today will surely be a piece of cake.
The students begin to pour into the lecture hall about ten minutes before the scheduled start. I nod at them as I adjust the microphone at the podium. They all seem very standard—awkward, unsure, yet intelligent and aware. I look down at my laptop to check my notes, and suddenly, I’m stunned.
A young beauty enters my vision, clutching her laptop between two swells of breasts. Her V-neck T-shirt perfectly accents her bosom, as her tight jeans glide flawlessly over her ample ass.
I see this all in my peripheral vision as she makes eye contact with me. Her light blue eyes catch the tiny glimmer of sunlight creeping into the room.
