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“Hello, I’m Logan Pierce. I’m not a real professor, so I’ll just go by ‘Pierce’ for the course,” I started, my gaze drifting to Jenica.
She gave me a little smile.
I didn’t return it.
“I’ve been asked by the university to teach this course because of my experience with Wakefield Pharmaceuticals.” I cleared my throat. “Particularly, my work in their social media marketing wing.”
I pulled up the company website to give a tutorial on the enterprise and what they specialized in—blood products, plasma, and a variety of orphan drugs. There were also numerous research wings that I reviewed, just to provide a high-level summary on my background.
Then I went into the social media wing, showing them the various sites where consumers spoke directly to my team.
“The point is always being accessible to answer questions,” I continued. “There is a lot of misrepresentation in the media about the pharma industry, as well as a lot of conspiracy theory propaganda. The purpose my team seeks to fulfill is the dissemination of facts, ensuring consumers understand the truth about our products.”
When I’d first pitched the idea to my marketing manager, she’d laughed. But someone else had overheard my idea, and the next thing I knew, the CEO of the company was at my desk asking for details.
I left that part out in my introduction, though, instead focusing on my team and their purpose in the social media market.
“So what I’m going to teach you this semester isn’t just how to use these tools, but how to apply them in various industries. And at the end of the term, you’ll write a paper detailing your own use of social media in an out-of-the-box-style strategy to rival my own.”
A few of the students exchanged glances, some of them appearing intrigued.
Jenica merely continued to study me, her blue eyes giving nothing away.
I continued into a discussion on the course syllabus—most of which had been outlined by the professor who usually taught this course—and the subtle changes I intended to make to the curriculum. I also had a list of guest speakers who would be stopping by throughout the semester to provide their own experiences with social media.
Everyone seemed excited by the time the class finished, our first week together off to a positive start.
A few students stayed around after class to ask questions.
Jenica started to leave, her blonde hair shimmering beneath the lecture hall’s fluorescent lighting. “Miss Roberts,” I called after her. “Stay for a minute.”
She paused at the doorway, glancing back at me with a raised brow. Then she said something to Carver, who had stopped beside her with a startled expression. She laid her hand on his arm and smiled, speaking too low for me to hear. He grinned at whatever it was and gave her a nod before leaving her inside the room.
“Sorry about that,” I said to the student who had been in the middle of asking me a question. “I have a question for her about her schedule and didn’t want her to leave.”
Jenica’s eyebrow arched again at that statement, her arms folding across her chest in a way that told me she hadn’t appreciated my comment.
I ignored her and focused on wrapping up the conversation with the student in front of me. The girl had two classes she needed to miss due to a study abroad program over spring break that would run a week into the latter half of the semester. “Email the details,” I told her. “I’ll make sure your assignments can be done abroad.”
“Thank you, Professor Pierce.”
“Just Pierce,” I replied with a smile.
The girl’s cheeks flushed prettily, her lips curling in a way I recognized.
But it did nothing for me.
Not just because she was a student, but because a much more appealing female stood only a few feet away at the classroom door.
“Thank you, Pierce,” the girl—Emily—reiterated.
“Is that everything?” I asked, cutting off the flirtation before she could get the wrong idea.
She blinked. “Um, yep.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you next week, then.” This course was only on Monday evenings, allowing me to work remotely for Wakefield Pharmaceuticals on the other days of the week.
“Right,” Emily said, her brow furrowing as she stumbled backward a little.
