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“Not going to tell me your name?”
“No.”
“No? Damn. Okay. Well, mystery lady, it was nice meeting you.”
He steps around me, reaching for the same door that I was about to go through.
“Are you a student?”
He laughs, and I feel it deep in my belly. “Ah, no.”
With that, he keeps walking, disappearing where the hallway splits. And what do I do? I stand there smiling like an idiot. The feeling of being watched is gone, which definitely helps my mood. Seriously, I need to get it together. No one is watching me. And all I’m doing is making myself look like a fool with my overactive imagination. Case in point—Henri.
I’m still smiling as I make my way to the lecture hall. Kyle is already inside and waves me over. We’ve known each other since high school but didn’t hang out until finding ourselves in the same class this year. Kyle is… Kyle. He’s a bit taller than me with sandy blond hair that he keeps cut close to his scalp. He says it’s because his dad started balding around our age, and he wants to be ready. His eyes are dark, and his lips are full. He used to play football in high school, but has definitely fallen victim to the freshmen fifteen, even though he’s technically a sophomore. He’s one of those guys that hasn’t adjusted very well from being the king of the crop to a small fish in a big pond. His words, not mine.
I sit next to him, pulling out my books. My notes are still damp, but I’ll have to make do until I can buy a new notebook.
“Wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”
“Mrs. McCarthy was running late. I almost had to bring Belle.”
He crinkles his nose. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
I try not to hold it against him that he doesn’t like kids. I mean, I’m not sure if I like kids, either, but I love my siblings. Someone calls out his name, asking if he’s going to a party at the end of the week.
“Hell yeah I am.” To me, he says, “I was going to tell you about it, but figured you wouldn’t be able to go. It’s at one of the frat houses.”
I’m off this upcoming weekend, so, in theory, I could go. But hanging around a bunch of drunk college kids doesn’t sound very appealing.
“Yeah, I won’t be going.”
He sighs. “I miss you, Dove. Sometimes I feel like you don’t want to be my girlfriend.”
His comment makes me feel like shit, as it usually does. One thing I’ve learned about Kyle is that he is a master manipulator. He knows what to say to people to get what he wants. And I have a pretty good idea what he wants.
“If you come to the party, we can find a room to crash in. Have some alone time.”
There it is— his true motive. He’s been trying to get in my pants since we started dating, but I’ve been firm. I don’t want a million notches on my bedpost. I want meaningful ones. Something he can’t seem to get through his head.
Before I can answer, the doors slam shut, and the room goes silent. Professor Westbrook is never on time, and he certainly doesn’t close the doors, so this has everyone’s attention. Someone in the front row turns and mouths,oh my god,to her friend sitting behind me. What on earth is going on?
And then I get my answer.
Henri walks up to the podium, looking like he owns the room. I swear every female and some males in the room are drooling. He’s rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt, putting his muscular forearms on display. I can’t say that I’ve ever noticed that body part before. I have now.
He speaks into the microphone, and goosebumps lift on my skin. Why didn’t I notice how deep and gravelly his voice was outside?
“Good afternoon. I’m Professor Gastov. Professor Westbrook couldn’t make it today, so I will be taking over his class.”
I’ve never seen so many people interested in what was being said. This is a blow-off class for most people. Heck, a lot of the students only show up for test days. But everyone hangs on to each word that Henri says.Henri. My cheeks feel warm. Why didn’t he introduce himself as a professor? Our gazes meet and heat spreads across my cheeks. His eyes twinkle as he directs everyone to open their textbooks. Is he laughing at me? I glance at Kyle to see if he notices. Thankfully, he doesn’t.
The hour flies by, much to my dismay.
Henri calls out, “I’ll be available in Professor Westbrook’s office for a bit if anyone has questions. See you all tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Does that mean he’ll be covering for Professor Westbrook then, too? I feel almost giddy with excitement until Kyle ruins everything by speaking.
“I don’t like that guy. What kind of professor dresses like that? I ought to file a complaint with the head of the department.”
