Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Rachel
Out of habit, I began to walk to the seat I’d occupied since the beginning of the semester. But then I stopped. Screw this. There was no reason to subject myself to a front-and-center view of the mighty professor. I’d do my job, attend the classes I was required to sit in on, teach the extra-help sessions, grade papers—all of it. But I didn’t have to sit where he’d told me he preferred I sit. Not anymore.
Looking around the room, I smirked, seeing an open seat next to Mr. Ludwig. Let him have a close-up view of my body so he can sketch—someone might as well appreciate it.
It was almost seventy-five degrees today, but my seatmate still had his wool beanie on.
“Hey.” He smiled at me. “Professor Stick Up His Ass let you off lockdown? I thought I was going to have to move up to the front just to get to ask you to go for coffee after class one day.”
“Did you need help with something? You haven’t come to any of my extra-help sessions.”
Beanie boy smiled. He was cute, in a college frat boy, dimpled kind of way. “Nope. Don’t need extra help. Just need coffee with you.”
I felt a presence behind me. Seeing the flirt’s eyes lift from my breasts to over my shoulder and his cheeky expression disappear, I knew who it was.
I kept ignoring him, hoping he would take the hint. No such luck.
“Rachel.” Caine cleared his throat. “Can I see you after class, please?”
I closed my eyes. I wanted to respond with ‘Go screw yourself’, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that much emotion. Nor was I going to let myself turn into one of the rumors I’d heard about Professor West before I even met him.
Plastering on my best imitation smile, I turned to face him, offering a fantastic view of my pearly whites. “Of course, Professor.”
I was adamant about showing him I was fine. But what I saw when I looked up erased my fake smile. Caine looked awful. His bright eyes were bloodshot, his naturally warm-colored skin looked cold, and his appearance was disheveled—not the intentionally stylish kind. No, Caine looked like he’d either been on a bender that ended a few hours ago, or he was sick as a dog and dragged his unhealthy ass out of bed for the first time in days to show up to class.
Even though I was pissed at him, I hoped it was the latter.
Caine nodded and his eyes moved to the student next to me. I caught the slight tick in his jaw as he glared at Mr. Ludwig a few heartbeats longer than normal. My emotions were clearly all over the place, because it pissed me off that he felt he had the right to give anyone a hard time for flirting with me. I owed him nothing.
For the next ninety minutes, I avoided looking at Caine, preferring to pretend to take notes while my mind wandered. When class was finally over, I waited in my seat until the last of the students were piling out and then walked down to the front of the room. I stood ten feet away from Caine, feeling terribly awkward. He was packing up his bag.
“I thought it might be best if we talked in my office.”
“I’m fine here.”
Caine looked up at me. “I’d like privacy.”
“I’d like a lot of things, but I don’t seem to get them all, now do I?”
He nodded. “Fine. Can we at least sit?” He held out his hand to direct me to the front row. Begrudgingly, I went.
I was acting like an insolent teenager, but I refused to look at him. He waited, assuming I would eventually stop playing with my phone and give him my full attention. But he assumed wrong. After a few minutes, he took the hint and began to speak anyway.
“I got an email from the dean about your request to change your thesis advisor.”
“And?”
“That’s not necessary. You’re almost done, and if you don’t want to spend time with me, we can handle most of it over email.”
I finally looked up at him. “I don’t want your opinions on my work. And I don’t want to rehearse my thesis defense with you. I don’t want to defend anything to you.”
Caine reached out to touch my arm. “Rachel.”
I pulled back. “Don’t touch me.”
He held both hands up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I scoffed. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
He took a deep breath and blew out a loud stream of air. “Let me start over. We’re able to be professional to each other during class, so why create all the extra work for yourself by requesting a new thesis advisor? Most professors will want to put their own touches on your work, and you’ll wind up with rewrites for months.”