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“Thanks. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I gripe, pissed that she’s standing here, smiling with her red lips and way-too-made-up face.

“Brett, it’s me. You know I know about you getting the head dean position. You don’t have to pretend with me.” She bats her blue eyes, and I almost laugh. Instead, I walk in, turning on my lights.

“O-kay, clearly you don’t want to talk about it.” She walks behind me, and my nose twitches at her perfume. It’s not that it’s repulsive; it’s that I’m being unreasonable and want coconuts and warm beaches, not flowers and patchouli.

“Are you mad at me?” she whines as I dump my bag on the large wooden desk.

“No, why would I be?”

“You’re acting… different.” She bites her lower lip, a strand of blond hair falling over one shoulder.

“Skylar, I’m no different than I’ve ever been. This is me. I never lied to you.” My voice remains flat, monotone, as if I have a thousand other things to do than speak to her. I cross my arms, waiting.

She sighs and looks up at the ceiling, then back at me. “I know. I’m sorry. That’s kind of why I stopped by. I wanted you to know I’ve had some personal issues lately, and I guess I probably drank a little too much wine…” She takes a step closer as I stare at her, realizing I don’t even care enough to confront her about all the incessant texts and voicemail messages.

“I’m late.” I nod and move around to my desk, hoping she has enough sense to fucking leave.

She doesn’t. Of course, she doesn’t.

“Wait, Brett, I value our friendship more than anything else…” Her voice drifts off, and I can’t look at her. Nodding, I open my drawer for a pad of paper and toss it in my bag, giving up on masturbating.

I move toward the door and turn toward her. “Friends works for me.” With a smile, I cock my head at her, waiting for her to move.

“Good.” She smiles. “I guess I’ll see you around then.”

“Yep.” I clench and unclench my jaw as she moves at a snail’s pace. Can she drag this out more? Now that I won’t be jerking myself off, I’m in complete work mode. I need to get ready for my call to New York.

“Are you going to the fundraiser tonight?” Her hand absently touches my chest as she passes.Shit.I had forgotten about that. Now that I amthehead dean, I have to go, and she knows it.

“Yes, thank you for reminding me.” I lean forward to lock my office door.

“Well then, see you tonight.” She reaches up to tap my nose, and before I can even respond, she’s walking down the hall toward the exit.

What the fuck is happening today? Christ, I shake my head as I walk in the other direction toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Skylar has made us way more than we ever were. Visions of plump lips, a sassy brown ponytail, and an ass that makes me want to bite and suck on it invade my thoughts. The scent of coconut wraps around us as I jerk her hair back so I can come on her face…

Yeah, she needs to go. She’s already occupied way too much of my thoughts as I enter my lab.

“Dean Powers, I was just texting you. Professor Weston from Stanford has called three times…” Josh, my top student and aide, can’t help but hide his glee at this.

“Is everything ready for the eleven o’clock meeting with New York?” I demand, going to work, pushing all thoughts of Alexandrea and anything but my job out of my head.

ALEXANDREA

I’ve never wanted a day to be over more than this one. Not that it was all bad. In fact, if my first class hadn’t been so mortifying, I’d actually be excited. As it is, I’m exhausted and want to crawl into bed, listen to some music, and figure out what the hell I’m doing.

But first, I need to get home. The thought of calling another Uber and wasting more money that I don’t have makes my anxiety go up a notch.

Heaving my backpack to my other shoulder, I watch a couple of guys get off those electric scooters. These particular ones I’ve seen all over campus, are called Lime…

“Hey, excuse me.” I walk over to the guys who stop talking to stare at me.

“Are these things easy to use?” I point at the scooter thing, looking at the handles that kind of remind me of a motorcycle. Not that I’ve ever been on one, but it looks more difficult than I originally thought.

“Yeah, all you need to do is download the app,” the taller of the two guys says.

“Okay.” I look at the scooter. This might be my answer. I mean, Santa Monica is just down PCH. How hard can this be?

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