Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94155 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“Then why did I get a B?”
“Because it’s well-written, but it’s unfocused. Your idea could be stronger; you didn’t develop it far enough.”
“What do you mean? I spent hours revising it to tighten my thesis.”
“It needed to be tighter. You use ‘choice’ in a generic way. You don’t get specific enough about the choices Hester makes. Are you talking about her choice to get married in the first place? Her choice to see someone else when her husband is missing? Her lack of choice in wearing the letter?”
I slink down in my seat. Everything the professor is saying makes perfect sense. I did use generic terms to talk about the choices Hester made. Part of the problem is that I was talking about choices in general, not necessarily connecting it back to the book.
That explains why I got a B.
“Can I rewrite it?” I ask, leaning forward. Ideas are already flowing through my mind. A new thesis takes form. I steal a pen from John’s desk to write it down.
He puts a hand over mine. “Whoa, there. Take it easy. I see you going a million miles a minute right now.”
“I am. I want to write an A paper. I know this book like the back of my hand…”
“That much was clear from the quiz last week, Mari. You aced it. I know you understand the book.”
“Then let me rewrite my paper! I can prove I’m good enough…”
“A B is not a bad grade. In fact, if you keep up the good work you’ve shown me thus far, you’ll probably finish the class with an A.”
“I’d have a higher A if you let me do this paper again.”
“I can’t do that, Mari. I’m sorry, but you read the syllabus. No do-overs.”
“Please, John…”
He gives me a sad, sympathetic look. I fall back in the seat once again. This meeting had been going so well. Why did it have to take a turn for the worse? Can’t John help me out just this one time?
“You’re a talented writer, Mari,” Mark says. “You’ll do better on the next paper.”
“I want to do better on this one,” I pout.
John laughs. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but if I give you the option to redo the paper, I’ll have to give that option to every student in class. And I don’t have the time to grade that many papers again.”
“I understand, I do. I just wish it were different…”
“Me, too,” John says. His hand finds mine again and squeezes. The gesture is so intimate that it sends butterflies soaring in my stomach. I want to pull away, but I don’t want to at the same time.
I like the contact.
I also like the attention he’s giving me. Mark, too. They’re both looking at me like they want to talk about something other than a paper.
I try to focus on anything but their intense gazes, but it’s impossible. The room feels like it’s a thousand degrees.
I slide my chair back, ready to make my escape, but John keeps his hold on my hand.
“We’re not done here yet,” he says, his voice a low rumble.
My chair stays where it is. If John says we’re not done, we’re not done. I’m happy to stay as long as he wants, as long as he keeps looking at me like I’m a snack and he’s starving.
3
John
I’ve never been attracted to a student before.
I’ve been a teacher for a very long time, and although I’ve been attracted to a few TA’s, I’ve never felt this spark with students.
Until I saw Mari.
She’d been sitting in the middle of the lecture hall on the first day of classes. Her outfit was normal, just jeans and a t-shirt. It was nothing that should have stood out, yet I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her.
I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t staring, and I think I did a good job because Mari never called me out on it.
Seeing her outside my office door today was both a blessing and a curse. What she could have walked in on if she hadn’t knocked…that would’ve been terrible. At least, without explanation. I don’t want her thinking poorly of me. Not before I’ve had a chance to…
That thought is too much for my body to handle right now. I need to focus on something else, but uncontrollably, my mind continues to wander to Mari. She’s too hot for her own good.
Having Mari in class has been torture. I can look, but I can’t touch. That would be against every professor code in existence.
Yet...here, in my office, it feels like the code doesn’t matter.
I share a knowing look with Mark. He and I have had many conversations about Mari in the past.
I gave her a B on her paper because it’s the grade she deserved. However, a sick part of me had hoped she would show up at office hours because of it. Just being in close proximity to her is driving me wild. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands to myself.