Page 12 of When Hearts Collide

This is ridiculous, Millie. You’re nineteen, not a friggin’ thirteen-year-old who just discovered her hormones and is experiencing her first crush. Snap out of it.

Shaking my head to wake me up from this strange haze I’m in, I focus my attention back on the powerful man on stage, determined to learn the recipe to his secret sauce. If I’m going to become a good educator one day, I want to captivate the room like he does.

Strange bodily reactions? That’s basic biology toward novelty. Fleeting and will fade in time.

Giving myself a quick mental pat on my back for listening to logic, I turn on the recording function on my cell phone. I’ll just have to transcribe this lecture to notes later when I get back home.

The next hour blows right by as Professor Anderson paints a startling realistic picture of the current business climate, where inflation is at an all-time high and corporations are struggling to survive while the public is weary of the future of the economy. He claims this is the perfect environment ripened for bad corporate decisions.

I can’t tear my eyes away for one minute.

Our gazes meet twice during his lecture, and each time, I see his eyes narrow before darting away.

A trickle of unease pools in my chest as I think back to the disapproval radiating from his glare. I’m unused to this blatant distrust coming from a professor. I’m a hard worker, a straight-A student, because my brother has taught me the way to climb out of poverty is through education. I’m determined to make something of myself without depending on Adrian, and it’s unsettling to see Professor Anderson’s apparent dislike of me.

It feels wrong and I need to correct whatever this is. It’s a necessity, like how my lungs need their next breath of air.

“Read chapters one through three before class on Thursday. Be prepared for your first debate. Don’t be late.”

His words are as effective as an alarm clock, waking up everyone from the spell he has placed us under. Excited whispers and hushed conversations fill the room as students quickly filter out the door.

I slowly pack up my things as my breathing quickens. I have to apologize to him. To tell him my tardiness and everything afterward were unintentional. I need him to understand I mean no disrespect, so I can begin this class on a good footing. I want him to like me, so he’ll write me a recommendation letter later on.

This urgency drives me to hastily climb out of my seat and make my way to the front of the room, where he’s adjusting his cuff links before putting on his suit jacket in one smooth, sweeping motion, clearly someone who’s very familiar with these formal threads. His long fingers grip his papers as he stuffs them into his black folio.

Wetting my lips, I carefully approach him, my fingers twitching at my sides. My clothes are much drier now, but my hair is still wet, and this level of dishevelment makes me uncomfortable, like I’m standing naked before him.

Vulnerable. Heated. Jittery.

He freezes, his muscles tensing the closer I approach him. Then he resumes packing his belongings and decidedly not look at me.

“P-Professor?” My voice comes out shaky. I curse myself for sounding like a little girl cowering in front of some deity.

He’s only a man, not a god. Somehow, that’s not reassuring at all.

He doesn’t look up, his fingers clutching his phone on the desk. “Yes?” A low grunt.

“I want to apologize again. My tardiness earlier today was very much unlike me. I take your class very seriously and want to assure you this won’t happen again. Please forgive me.”

My fingers tangle with each other, trying to generate the power to remain standing before him, this man with tethered energy rolling off him.

Professor Anderson’s attention snags on my fingers, his frame stiffening before he slowly meets my gaze.

Chilly gray eyes remind me of the swirling clouds at the eye of the storm and pin me in place. They’re penetrating, seeing through my defenses.

“Your future is not my responsibility, but your own. Make the right choice for yourself. It doesn’t matter to me.” His voice is barely above a whisper and yet echoes in the quiet room, much louder than the rain pattering against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He straightens to his full height, and I let out a small gasp when I realize how tall he is, how big his presence is, and how small I feel standing before him. He frowns, a crease forming between his brows, and I have an irrational urge to smooth out the lines, to ask him what’s wrong.

Without another word, he strides out of the classroom, turning off the lights along the way. The door slamming shut echoes in the dark, and I suddenly find myself bereft without his heated presence.

Nothing makes sense. After all, I’ve only met the man a little over an hour ago.

I stand there in silence, listening to my heavy breathing. My hand travels to my chest and rubs the tenderness forming behind my rib cage.

I must be delirious from the lack of sleep and food. Or maybe Mercury is in retrograde.

Lightning flashes across the sky, singeing the room in a burst of light. The hairs on my forearm stand up straight and I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to look outside. My feet carry me to the windows, where I witness nature’s tantrum in full force.

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