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“You’re in college now, Professor Winston.”
I like it. I like the nature of strong minds challenging me to dig deeper.
“Okay, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from earlier. Has that type of thing happened at Thornton before?”
She looks away, into the crowd. “I really shouldn’t have said that about Evan. He’s probably just a regular guy, and I labeled him without giving him a chance to defend himself. It’s the definition of prejudicial behavior.”
Possibly. At the same time, I’ve met opportunists like him before.
“Not the Evan thing. I’m talking about the thing with Effington and the student. Is that something that happens a lot?”
She takes another sip of beer and shrugs. “If it does, nobody talks about it. However, speaking as a Ph.D. candidate in psychoanalysis, it seems inevitable it would happen a lot.”
“How so?”
“College women tend to be attracted to highly educated men, and professors are often men who’ve never been particularly attractive to women, present company excluded, of course.”
“Of course,” I laugh, taking another sip of beer.
“Suddenly, at a time when many men struggle with mid-life issues, they’re being inundated with interest from young, nubile women.” She hesitates then grins. “Then, of course, some girls simply have daddy issues, and who better to scratch that itch than a bossy, intelligent professor.”
“Ahh…” The pieces click into place. “That makes sense.”
Especially if a student, say, lost her father tragically at a young age.Daddy issues.
“Which part?”
“All of it, really. You’re very observant, Miss Stead.”
“Not that it matters. I’m sure you have plenty of admirers on and off campus.” She leans closer. “Answer the burning question on all our female minds… Does the very handsome Professor Winston have a significant other?”
“No.” I polish off my beer.
Her lips quirk in a frown. “Why not?”
“Lots of reasons. I’ve never seen a long-term relationship that worked.” My dad was the worst fucking role model. “And perhaps I made bad choices when I was younger.”
“What’syourdefinition of ‘bad choices,’ Professor?”
She’s imitating my question from earlier, and I huff a laugh. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone. Ready?”
“Definitely.” She sets her glass down and squares her shoulders. “Hit me.”
“I had a serious girlfriend in college, then after graduation, she wanted to settle down and get married. I didn’t.” Sharon does a fake gasp, placing her palm on her chest, and I continue. “I still think I was right. We were too young. I wanted to do things, and being married would’ve held me down. So we broke up. Now she’s married with a couple kids, and I’ve never gotten that close again.”
Silence falls between us. She studies me with her dark brows furrowed, and I wait to hear her fresh, psychoanalytical, Ph.D.-candidate opinion.
Finally, she suggests a reason. “So that’s it? You’re done?”
Fishing cash out of my pocket, I drop a ten on the bar. “I think I missed my chance.”
“Bullshit. IfSex and the Citytaught us anything, it’s there’s no such thing as one soul mate. You gave up.”
“I didn’t give up.” Patting her shoulder, I’m ready to go. “I like my job. I don’t like drama. Relationships always turn into drama.”
“You’re a grinch.” Sharon is smug, taking out her card to settle her bill. “A little piece of coal where your heart should be.”
“I’m not a grinch. I’m telling you what I’ve seen and experienced.”
