Page 25 of Praise You

"I should still make sure I'm spending time with you. I'll talk with Asher. I miss time with my best friend, too.”

Noah continues writing my order on the cup and I move over to the side while my drink is being made. Once it's done, Noah brings me the cup, keeping it out of reach. "I'm sorry again. We'll find time. I promise."

"Sounds good, Noah. I'll see you in class?"

"Yeah, I'm about to clock out, and then I'll meet you later today."

I walk toward the front door, waving goodbye as I exit.

Taking a sip, I sigh. Now to bring on the rest of the day.

Once again, I'm sitting in my chair, watching all the students slowly exit the lecture hall. Noah gives me a look before asking why I keep staying late. I give him the shitty excuse of needing to ask a question about our assignment before he reluctantly nods, gathering his things and leaving.

I wait till the door clicks shut behind Ty, the teacher’s aide, before picking up my backpack and walking toward Professor Carson—Oliver.

"Hey," I say, rubbing my hand on the nape of my neck.

"Good afternoon, Mr. James." He doesn't look at me, just continues to mark his papers with his red pen.

"Are we meeting at the library today?"

"Yes, just give me a couple minutes and I can meet you there?" He glances at me quickly before looking back down at his paper.

"Sure."

I wait for him to say something else, but when he doesn't, I roll my eyes and leave the lecture hall. Stomping through the quad, I mutter under my breath, annoyed with the entire situation. I honestly don't even know how I got myself into this or what this even is.

Nothing has happened, but at the same time, a lot of things have happened. Well, whatever it is, we're going to fucking talk about this.

Turning on my heel, I pivot back toward the lecture hall, determined to get him to talk to me. Pushing open the door, I wince when it slams against the wall, Oliver's head whipping in my direction. I stomp down the aisle, my eyes never leaving his as I approach him. Twisting my hands a couple times I try to gather the courage to confront him.

"We need to talk," I blurt out.

"About the assignment? I was gathering my things to meet you in the library."

"No. Not the assignment. Us."

"There is no us," he deadpans, not looking at me. And fuck does that hurt. The way he can so easily dismiss us, or anything that could be us.

"But there could be. You and I both know there's something more going on here. Not even talking about the whole webcam thing. Us working side by side each week the past couple months. You're telling me that nothing was going on then?"

"No," he states. I watch as he swallows hard, his eyes flickering to me for a second before darting away again.

"You're a liar. You may not want to admit it, but there was more going on. Did you really think I needed help with my assignment weekly? That I couldn't figure out how to cite a paper, or gather evidence for an argument? I was the only student who you met with that much. Why?"

"Why? Why what?"

"Why was I the only student?" I reiterate, a bite in my voice that I barely recognize.

"Because you were the only one who asked."

"Bullshit. It's because we both felt something more. And the only way for us to be around each other was for you to tutor me. You know it and I know it."

Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling loudly. "I'm your professor."

"So?"

"So that means nothing can happen between us. Not while you're my student." His voice trails off and there’s a flicker of hope that blooms in my chest from his words.

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