Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
A glance at the schedule reveals that Summer Lovin’ is opening the show. Crap. I would’ve preferred to be somewhere in the middle of the pack. Opening a fashion show is a lot of pressure.
“I want us to start the night with a bang,” he tells me, winking again. “Your swimsuits will do that, I suspect.”
Ew. Why does he say things like that? Paired with the sleazy wink, his words make my skin crawl.
“Whatever you think is best.” I paste on a cheerful smile. “So we’re all set?” I want nothing more than to leave this man’s office.
He smiles back. “All set.”
Relief floods my belly. I hop to my feet and pick up my Prada tote. My head is down as I tuck the schedule into my bag, so I don’t see Laurie round his desk. When I lift my head, he’s standing about a foot away from me. Which is a foot too close.
I hastily take a step back. “Anyway, I’ll see you Wednesday.” We’re having another lecture this week so he can return our midterms and discuss the final paper. “I’m excited to get my midterm—”
“How long are we going to keep fighting this?”
I blink, and he’s no longer one foot away. It’s a mere inch now. And his long fingers are caressing my cheek, unleashing a flurry of shivers—and not the good kind. I’m too stunned to push his hand away, and my brain is still stuck on the throaty question he’d voiced.
Keep fighting this? Is he for real? Does he think his pervy feelings are reciprocated? That we’ve been engaged in some forbidden love affair this entire semester?
“Summer,” he says thickly, and I don’t miss the flare of passion in his eyes.
I gulp. Hard. And then I lick my lips, because they’re suddenly so dry that they’re sticking together, and I need them to unstick if I’m going to get any words out.
Only, Laurie mistakes the lip-licking for a green light. To my horror, his head dips toward me, his mouth nearly landing on mine before I plant both hands on his chest and forcibly push him away.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I don’t know what you think is going on here, but…” My hands shake wildly as I shove my purse strap over my shoulder. “I have a boyfriend.”
And even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t kiss you if my life depended on it, you sleazy slime bag.
Hear, hear! Selena agrees.
Laurie smooths out the lapel of his pinstriped blazer. “I see,” he says tightly.
“Yeah, I’m sorry—” Why am I apologizing? I take a breath and remind myself that I have nothing to be sorry for. And that I shouldn’t have to use a boyfriend as an excuse. “But even if my boyfriend wasn’t in the picture, I still wouldn’t be interested. It would be inappropriate—” Stop it, Summer! Again with the excuses? Anger builds in my gut. Why do we do this as women? Why do we feel the need to justify why we don’t like someone? “I’m also not interested in you that way,” I finish firmly. There. No more excuses.
His jaw clamps tight. His eyes burn with something I can’t decipher. It’s not quite anger. Definitely not hurt or shame.
I think it might be betrayal.
“I’m sorry if I led you to believe otherwise,” I add, even though I’m confident I didn’t send him any signals to indicate I wanted him sexually.
One eyebrow arches slightly. “Are you done?” he asks in a tone cold enough to refreeze the snow that’s recently begun to melt beyond his windows.
“I guess so,” I mutter.
“Then I’ll see you in class, Summer.”
I leave the office, and the door shuts behind me. Not a slam, but he definitely closes it harder than necessary. I stand in the hallway for a moment, stunned by what just happened. I snap out of my trance when my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
FITZ: At the computer lab working on code. Break time. Wanna meet for lunch?
* * *
ME: Sorry, bb. About to walk into meeting with my advisor. See you at home xoxo
I’m not sure why I lie to him. I just don’t think I can see him while my stomach continues to burn with humiliation. I’m suddenly questioning every discussion in class, when Laurie would nod in agreement at something I’d said, or praise me for a particular observation. Was it all bullshit? Just him pretending that he found me intelligent and insightful so he could get into my pants?
Of course he was pretending, you idiot. On what planet does any professor think you’re intelligent?
I bite my lip to keep from crying. I want to tell my inner critic to fuck off, but I’m too distraught. And there’s no way I’m telling Fitz what happened. He’ll lose his shit if he finds out Laurie tried to kiss me. He’ll probably hunt the professor down and try to throw down, and that won’t help the situation in the slightest.