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I’m not annoyed. College students do it all the time, and considering her background, she does have my sympathy. It’s possible her situationismore compelling than the average trust-fund kid here on Mom and Pop’s dime, but the prejudice of such a consideration annoys me. Many students have suffered trauma, and giving her special treatment is wrong.
“If you apply yourself, complete the assignments and the readings on time, you should have no problem doing well in my class.” My tone is firm, all business.
“I’ve offended you.” Her eyes drop to her lap. “I only wanted to let you know my situation. I didn’t mean to seem like I was asking for…anything.”
“I’m not offended.” I remain firm. “If you choose to stay in my class, you’ll have to do the work. I’ll give you the name of a tutor if you fall behind—”
“I’d rather study with you.” Her eyes meet mine again, and it’s time to end this meeting.
Rising from my chair, I hold out my hand for the door. “I’m sorry, but tutoring isn’t something I do.”
“But you’re the one grading my assignments. I’d rather know your opinion than a surrogate’s.”
“I have regular office hours, and I’ll be glad to look over any assignment before it’s due—like I would for any other student.”
It’s a clear line of demarcation.
“I see.” She stands, placing her fingers lightly on my wrist. “Thank you for seeing me… Professor Winston.”
Her full lips say my name as if asking for a kiss, and the heat circulating in my blood rushes straight to my dick. I do not imagine ordering her to get on her knees and open her mouth.
“Have a nice day, Miss Lorak.” I place my hand on her shoulder and gently, but forcefully move her into the hall, closing the door solidly.
Anger burns in my throat at my primitive response to this girl. I’m always in control, and that hasn’t changed. Then, my eyes land on the laptop she left on the edge of my desk.
Shit, I shoved her out the door, and now I have her computer. Last thing I need is her coming back for it.
Scooping it up, I quickly jerk the door open, stepping out so fast, I nearly collide with her and Evan the Fuckboy talking in the hall.
I stop short, holding out the tablet for her. “You left this.”
She smiles up at me like I just saved her life. “Thank you.” Her voice is breathless. “You’ve helped me so much.”
Evan smirks at me like we’re on the same team, and I want to punch him in the face, which is completely unprofessional. Reanna’s fingers brush mine lightly as she takes the laptop from me, and I pull my hand away.
“You’re welcome. Next time, please note my office hours.” I return to my office, shutting the door firmly on that nonsense.
I’m not a player, and I’m not interested in that student.
I need a drink.
“How willyou finish your thesis if you’re assisting three professors all the time?” I take a sip of draft beer, leaning on the bar at The Husky Den.
“Somehow I manage.” Sharon sips from her pint glass.
The Den is a popular collegiate watering hole within walking distance of campus. It’s all-wood and brass and filled with mostly graduate students, a few professors, and some upperclassmen, whom I assume are over twenty-one.
It didn’t occur to me that any of my students might be adults. I’d anticipated a bunch of immature teenagers, zero interest, zero temptation. I didn’t not anticipate Reanna Lorak.
Following our meeting in my office, I updated my online class information then headed out in search of a drink, bumping into Sharon on the way here.
“Here’s to the start of fall semester.” She holds up her glass, and I clink it.
It’s a good pilsner, slightly bitter but light, and classic rock filters over the low roar of the crowd. I’m pretty sure it’s “Creep” by Radiohead.
“Something’s on your mind.” Sharon studies my face. “And I don’t think it’s your concern about my workload, which predates you anyway.”
Exhaling a grin, I place my glass on the polished bar. “I forgot what it’s like to work with professional thinkers.”
