Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“Maybe it’s on the syllabus? Do you have it with you?” I lean in a little more, and his eyes immediately go straight to my cleavage. Because, of course, they do. It really is too easy.
Is it my imagination, or did something hit the back of my chair? Like a foot, maybe? Zeke didn’t exactly kick it, but he definitely jostled it. I ignore him, instead smiling wide at the stranger to my right.
A stranger who is extremely flustered now. “Um, maybe. I’m not sure…”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out.” I give him another little smile and look him up and down like I approve. He’s wearing clothes he probably slept in, but I’ll pretend that’s hot for the sake of driving Zeke out of his mind. He deserves it for what he’s putting me through.
I settle back in, staring straight ahead, and I’m glad he can’t see me grinning.
He doesn’t say anything about it after class, which only sets my teeth on edge. What do I have to do? Flash an entire classroom? Maybe then he’d say something. And I bet it would have something to do with my father, too. How Daddy dearest wouldn’t like it. I swear, it’s almost enough to make me wonder if I imagined that whole experience in my room.
But there’s no way. Because even in my wildest fantasies, I never imagined him coming on me.
And I sure as hell never imagined liking it. Between that and the spanking thing, he’s teaching me a lot about myself. I’m not sure how to feel about it, and there’s nobody I can talk to.
Not even with my new friends in sociology, which is the class immediately after world history. I haven’t seen any of them since last week, though Posey and I have been texting. I know she’s not going to grill me when we see each other.
Dean is another story. “There you are. I was starting to think something happened to you.”
It’s sweet, especially in the absence of any kindness from Zeke. I can’t believe how starved I am for the slightest bit of kindness. “I’m sorry for freaking you out. You know, you have my cell number. You could text me if you wanted.”
“Are you kidding? I was afraid Frankenstein would come after me.” He’s not even subtle about turning around to look at the back of the room, where Zeke took his customary seat by the door as soon as we walked in.
“Don’t start anything, okay? Please.” I roll my eyes while setting up my laptop. “And you can text me anytime. Things just didn’t work out on Friday.” I’m glad the instructor starts her lecture because I don’t feel like getting into it. It’s one thing for Posey or Zoe to care, but guys are a different story. They get all up in their egos. Like I’m a damsel needing to be saved.
After a half-hour lecture, we break up into our groups to discuss our project. I did a lot of research over the weekend and can’t wait to share it. It’s better than obsessing over Zeke, too. “I just sent the three of you the link to the Trello board I put together with my research: articles, photos, videos. I plan on adding more to it after class.”
Posey lets out a whistle. “Damn, girl. And I thought I was type A about stuff like this.”
“You’re type A about everything,” Zoe reminds her with a laugh. “And you both make me feel like a loser. Though I did find lots of materials about how the different families in New York divided territories. There are so many gross pictures out there of, like, murder scenes.”
“I know, right? It’s like, research at your own risk.” We share a knowing grin before I turn to Dean. “What about you? You’re covering the drug trafficking explosion in the eighties, right?”
My question startles him like he wasn’t paying attention. “What? Yeah. Drugs. Bad shit.”
The three of us look at each other before turning back to him. “Wow. Insightful,” Posey murmurs.
“We’re going to get an A for sure,” Zoe agrees, nodding solemnly.
I don’t join in with the joking. Something’s obviously bothering him. “What’s up?”
He shifts his weight in his chair like he’s uncomfortable before scrubbing a hand over his blond curls. “It’s just, you know, if we make plans to get together and talk about our project, we need to actually be able to get together and talk about it. Outside of class. The way everybody else is doing.”
“No offense, but how do you know what everybody else is doing? Did you take a survey of the rest of the class?” Posey gives me a look that says I’ve got this. “Don’t get a hair up your ass about Mia not being able to go to your place. You know damn well we didn’t talk about school.”