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Only…he remarked my previous essays and they were all good too. Not as glowing as this one, but fair. When I sat down to read through them all properly, I found his comments on those were insightful, supportive and, at times, humorous.
Why?
I’m not questioning my work. I study hard and I know that what I turn in is good. I mean why is he doing this, being fair –kindeven – all of a sudden? It can’t be because I called him out on his drinking, because he’d already remarked the originals before that conversation happened. Why the change of heart?
Maybe his department was audited and my work was called for moderation and that’s why my grades were changed.
Actually, that makes sense.
If I wasn’t absolutely certain that this is the professor’s sloppy left-handed scrawl, I’d maybe even think that he’d got someone else to mark my work for him. But the comments are definitely his.
“Class dismissed.”
I’m so wrapped up in my suspicious obsessing over what’s gotten into my professor that Bhodi has to click his fingers in front of my face to bring me back into the room.
“Sorry.”
“Ready for our date?”
“Absolutely,” I tell him with a smile. I am ready. I’ve been looking forward to this, and I’m not about to spoil it by getting wrapped up in thoughts of yet another guy.
Not that I think about the professor the way I think of Cove and Bhodi.
Or the doctor.
Nope. Not going there. Bhodi is my date; he’s getting my full attention. At least until we have to return to school in a few hours for our seminar.
I shove the essay into my bag along with my stationery and follow Bhodi along our row and out of the lecture hall.
Now that I know where we’re going, the walk seems much quicker. Or maybe we’re just walking quicker because we want to get there faster. Campus is busy, with most students making a beeline for the coffee shop, but once we pass that, the crowds thin out and pretty soon it’s just the two of us walking in companionable silence.
The lakeside is deserted again when we arrive, and I can’t believe that students aren’t making the most of having this stunning hideaway right on their doorstep. Then again, with all the beaches nearby, I guess they have better places to go. Especially the beaches with bars that serve alcohol to American minors. Back home I can legally drink. If I want to.
Which I don’t.
“Swim?” Bhodi asks, pulling his T-shirt over his head with one hand.
My brain short circuits at the view. Have I seen Bhodi topless before? I try to remember, but I can’t. Surely it’s not possible to forget such a perfectly chiselled work of art?
Every inch of skin is covered in monochrome ink. An enormous skull covers his right pec with a coiled cobra striking above. It’s incredibly terrifying and somehow beautifully lifelike. My eyes don’t know where to focus, there are so many designs covering his skin, all bleeding seamlessly together in the dips and panes of his sculpted physique. I spot a couple more skulls, some waves and even a star or two. Every design makes me smile for some reason.
I clear my throat and drag my gaze away from his chiselled chest.
“Definitely.”
He shucks his shoes and the sound of his belt hitting the grass at my feet spurs me into action. I spin away from him, heated, and remove my own top and shorts. I wore my bikini under my clothes this morning, knowing we were coming here later and that there wouldn’t be anywhere to change. It’s a nice day, but I suspect the water’s going to be freezing, so I’m glad I stashed a towel in my bag for when I get out. I hate being cold with a passion. Luckily, I don’t often feel it, but still, I like to avoid the possibility at all costs.
I turn back around just in time to see Bhodi run and cannonball into the centre of the lake, creating an almighty splash that I try to shrink away from. It’s no good though, I’m not fast enough, and ice-cold droplets hit my exposed skin, making me squeal.
“Come on in, water’s lovely, little dot.”
Warmth spreads through my body, as it always does whenever he uses his nickname for me. I secretly love it. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t a lying piece of shit about the water being nice.
I laugh. “Liar!”
“You’ve got two choices. Either you take the plunge or I come get you.”
I’m tempted to make him come get me, just to see what he’ll do. Should I run? Would he chase me? Sweep me up into those big strong arms and carry me into the water like firemen rescue damsels from burning buildings?
