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BLAIRE
Ican feel his eyes watching me as I move through the room.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. There was no way Mr. Scott, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, was looking at me. I’m plain, boring, and he could do a million times better.
Every female within a ten-mile radius of the university knows about Mr. Scott. He’s voted best-looking professor in our department every year, and he’s only gotten more handsome.
“Professor Scott is staring at you,” Delilah hisses as she hands me another cup full of liquid.
I need to slow down, but every time I finish a cup, she’s handing me another one, spouting off about needing to drink away my sorrows. I think she just wants a partner in crime.
“Don’t you think we should slow down?” I protest, completely ignoring her statement. “He won’t notice you any easier if you’re walking around wasted than if you’re sober.”
Delilah has had her heart set on Professor Atkinson since our first day on campus, claiming he was the man she was going to marry. But three years and a lot of tears later, she’s no closer to gaining his attention.
“This has nothing to do with him,” she snipes before plastering a fake smile on her face. “This is about letting loose and having some fun for a change.”
“I have fun,” I retort, knowing that isn’t true.
I’ve always preferred to spend my Friday night in the library working on my honors project for graduation rather than partying.
“No, you don’t. But that’s going to change.” She dances off again toward the bar, probably coming up with another concoction for us to drink.
I duck my head slightly, allowing my hair to drape over my shoulders and cover most of my face, and glance toward Mr. Scott. When our eyes lock, his striking green eyes are ablaze with something I can’t place, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
My entire body tingles as he lifts the glass to his lips, running his tongue around the lip. I bite my lip, holding back a groan, clenching my legs tightly together. Every part of my body is begging him to soothe the ache coming from inside me. This burning desire is foreign to me in so many ways, but my body knows he is the only one who can stop it.
“He looks like he wants to eat you alive.”
I jump at the sound of Delilah’s voice as she shoves another cup into my hand.
“No, he doesn’t. I’m sure Mr. Scott has better things to do than watch me.” I take a huge gulp, wincing at the burn as it makes its way down my throat. “What the hell is this?”
“They called it Witch’s Brew.” She raises her glass toward me before taking a sip, and her nose wrinkles. “No idea what’s in it, but the more I drink, the better it tastes.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I grumble before taking another sip, my eyes locking with Mr. Scott’s for a few moments before dropping to the floor.
“Don’t change the subject.” She points her cup toward me before motioning towards the bar. “What’s going on between the two of you, and why the hell are you calling him Mr. Scott?”
“Nothing, and because everyone else does,” I deflect quickly before taking another drink.
“No one else calls him anything but Satan.”
We both giggle into our cups as I lift my eyes slightly. He’s still watching me.
I’ve never had a class with Mr. Scott. Maybe that’s why I don’t refer to him as a professor. But I’ve heard stories. Everyone on campus knows about his explosive temper and demand for perfection from his students, not to mention his teaching assistants.
Being a teaching assistant is a rite of passage for upperclassmen, but everyone dreads being assigned to Mr. Scott. He seems to go through them like underwear, no one lasting more than a few days. Thankfully, I’ve dodged the bullet, but I know my time is coming sooner rather than later.
Delilah threads her arms through mine, pulling me back to reality, into a nearby corner away from everyone else. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we walked in.”
I sigh, locking eyes with him once again over her shoulder. His onyx-colored hair falls slightly in his face, and my hands itch with the need to brush it to the side before threading my fingers through it.
What the hell?
Mr. Scott is gorgeous – anyone with eyes can see that – but he’s a professor. Notmyprofessor, but still, the position deserves respect.
But his eyes tell a different story. There’s something else lurking behind his calm exterior. A beast ready to break free and make me his meal.
