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I’ll be eagerly awaiting your company.
-Professor DeMarco
My jaw drops open.
“Tonight” is underlined with three bold strikes, and below that, he wrote a time and his address.
It’s all typed, but those three bold strikes… he writes those below his comments at the top of tests.
He wants me to come to his house.
That’s… insane.
I can’t go.
Right?
This bold invitation changes my tune about wanting to see him after class. If I do, I’ll have to give him an answer, so I pick up my bag and hurry down the hall to make sure I’m gone before he gathershisthings and leaves the classroom.
All night, I agonize over whether I’m going to go.
On the one hand, he’s my professor. If Idon’tgo, won’t that be incredibly awkward come Monday morning?
But on the other hand, what does he expect to happen if Idogo over there? A brief chat in a coffee shop is leaps and bounds away from going over to his house.
I don’t get the vibe that Professor DeMarco is a creep, so after much anxiety over the decision, I finally decide to go. I tell myself it’s okay because I’m probably overthinking it. It’s college, not high school. Maybe professors and students are allowed to be friends.
Nothing will happen that I don’t want to happen.
He’s not some creep like Dylan; he’s a respected professional.
And it’s not like he’s definitely going to come onto me just because I’m at his house.
And if he does…
I’ll just tell him he needs to pump the brakes a little. No big deal.
Yeah, because you’re always able to keep your head clear around him.
True, he does scare me a little…
But that bit of common sense isn’t helpful, so I toss it out and proceed to tell myself it’s perfectly natural to shower, shave,and pick out a cute outfit different from the one I wore to school today.
I’m so preoccupied with the craziness of this whole thing that it doesn’t occur to me to feel guilty or paranoid until I’m halfway to my car.
A creepy feeling passes over me like I’m being watched. I turn and survey my surroundings, but I don’t see anybody.
As soon as I get in my car, I press the lock button.
Paranoia still lingers and I find myself checking the rearview mirror and the traffic around me during the drive over to Professor DeMarco’s house.
When I get there, I park in his driveway and turn off the engine.
I take a breath and grab my purse, but I have to ignore the pang when I realize I’m still using the purse Silvan bought me on that shopping spree with my mom.
It feels somehow wrong to bring that purse here. I should have changed it out before I left.
Stop it, Sophie. You don’t owe him a thing. What he got from you, he stole.
