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‘Apologies for interrupting. Were you expecting these exam scripts,’ I ask.
‘What’s this?’ he grumbles. ‘I never asked for these. Exam scripts you say?’ he keeps on.
This must be the wrong room. ‘Sorry!’ I say and head down the hallway once again, looking for another set of stairs. It must be on the next floor up.
The numbers on this floor are at least listed and they’re in the three hundreds. Okay, seems like I’m on the right track. I finally see the correct room number and gently push open the door.
That’s when my eyes nearly pop out of my head. ‘You!’ I shout.
Sitting there reading, without a care in the world, with his legs propped up on the desk and ankles crossed, is Professor Jack Stanhope—with the biggest smirk plastered across his face.
‘You!’ I shout again because I simply don’t know what to say.
‘Well,good afternoon, Miss Burrows,’ he says dramatically, taking his sweet time with each word. ‘What a pleasure to see you here. Tell me, what brings you this way?’
I glare at him. ‘Really?’ I toss the pile of exam scripts on the desk in front of him. ‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for this room?!’
‘What?’
I point to the papers now strewn all over the desk. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’
‘Who’s joking? I really do appreciate you coming all this way to deliver these scripts, although it really wasn’t necessary.’
‘You sent me on this wild goose chase just to... what, get back at me?’ I wasn’t angry, exactly, but I did feel frenzied and alert, adrenaline coursing through me like an athlete after a tense competition.
‘No...’ he pauses. ‘I sent you on a wild goose chase because I made you a promise.’ He straightens up now, plants his feet on the floor and, standing up to his full height, his large frame towering over mine, he says, ‘I told you I’d find a way—’
‘To punish me,’ I say breathlessly. I can feel the electricity positively crackling in the air between us.
‘No. To make you pay for your infringement. It’s not a punishment. It’s tit for tat. Equivalent retaliation.’ He looks so smug standing there in his beautiful, tailored suit, his perfectly trimmed beard, his incredibly hard jawline...
But he had no idea who he was dealing with.
‘You like games?’ I say, ‘I’ll give you games.’ I never see his expression because I turn on my heel and storm out of the classroom. It’s just as well he can’t see the huge smile plastered across my face.
––––––––
AT THE END OF THE DAY, an email from Karinna is sitting in my inbox. She’s asking me to confirm one last art session, at the start of December, and then the class will break up for the winter holiday anyways. Despite my better judgment, and the voice inside my head that screams,run away, I reply yes—I’ll do one final sitting.
Game on, Professor.
