“Why?” I asked, a little more defensively than I intended. This paper was making me nervous, and having him ask about it now made me even more nervous than before.

“Just curious,” he said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I can help … if you’d like?”

I was torn. On one hand, his help would be greatly appreciated since he was practically an expert and all, and I was a little overwhelmed. But on the other hand, would allowing him to help me cross the very carefully laid boundary I insisted we put in place? And besides, didn’t I want to impress him on my own merit?

“Wouldn’t that be an unfair advantage?” I asked. “Unless, of course, you are this helpful to all your students?”

“Would it make you feel better if you came and saw me during office hours?” he teased, and there was a note of smugness in his voice that both irritated and endeared him to me. I rolled my eyes. There was no way I would be visiting his office.

Alone.

In private.

That had disaster written all over it. It was much safer to have this conversation in public where it was easier to control the ever-present butterflies.

Reluctantly, I answered, “I chose the conflict between faith and doubt. Dostoevsky made it obvious which side he’s on, but I disagree that a lack of religious faith leads to chaos and unhappiness.”

“Intriguing. Why do you say that?” he asked, and I couldn’t tell if he was sincerely interested or if he just wanted me to continue because he thought I was stupid and was going to listen to my argument only to counter with a more intellectually insightful one of his own.

I pressed my lips together in a straight line, really wishing I hadn’t said anything in the first place. With a deep breath, I finally said, “Because I think that sometimes having faith can lead to despair when you discover the faith you had was unwarranted.”

“Hmm,” he remarked, curiously.

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. Why did I have to say anything at all? I probably sounded like an amateur, which was the last thing I wanted to look like in front of him.

“What?” I asked, nervously biting my bottom lip.

“Nothing, it’s just …” He seemed unsure if he wanted to finish his thought.

“What?” I asked again, this time a little more forcefully.

“You’re just far more jaded than I expected,” he said with a smile, as though that would somehow soften the blow.

I was taken aback both because that’s not at all what I was expecting him to say and because his words were oddly familiar. “You know, that’s the second time I’ve been called that recently.”

“Well, that can’t be coincidental,” he said pointedly.

I had to smile at that. “Probably not.”

“Is there a story there?” he pressed.

I didn’t answer right away because I didn’t really believe that he didn’t already know, but the longer I studied his face the more I was willing to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was actually unaware of the scandal that turned my life upside down last fall. I always wondered if people thought I was being overdramatic whenever I told them my story. But the thing is, if you’ve never experienced that kind of betrayal, you have no room to tell someone who has that what they are feeling isn’t valid.

“Oh, there’s a story alright. Just not one I’m willing to discuss with a perfect stranger,” I finally said.

“Ouch,” he mocked. “I guess I’ll just have to stick around so you can get to know me, then.”

“Tobias … I told you,” I reminded him, “you’re my teacher.”

“I remember,” he said solemnly. “But I’ve been thinking—after all, it’s only temporary. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a teacher—or more accurately a TA—getting to know a student. Hell, if we want to get technical, remember I’m a student, too, Tamsin.”

“It’s not the same thing.” I stared down at my coffee to avoid looking at him because looking at him made my brain go fuzzy.My phone buzzed again. I jumped at the chance to end this conversation with Tobias. “It’s my dad. I have to take this.”

“Okay,” he said. “See you next week.”

As soon as he was out of view, as I declined my dad’s call, I happened to notice the time and realized I was late to meet Alex. She needed to get a gift for her sister’s birthday, and I promised I would help her pick something out. Evie was turning nine, and I had no clue what you would get for a nine-year-old girl. I wasn’t sure how much help I would be since I didn’t have any siblings…yet, anyway I guess.

As I was gathering up my stuff to leave, I noticed the nosy, black-haired girl from my Intro to Russian Lit class was standing in line looking at me and then back to the door that Tobias had just exited, then back to me again. When she noticed me looking at her, she quit gaping and narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously.