Page 5 of Arrogant Professor

Elle waved me off with a hiccup.

“Oh, just fine and dandy.”

“Where are your shoes?”

She frowned and glanced down at her feet. Then she shrugged.

“Don’t know. Left ‘em somewhere, I guess. They pinched.”

“And your purse? Phone?”

She shrugged again. The world could end right now and this girl wouldn’t give a shit. She was too wasted to care about a damn thing.

“You appear to be very drunk, Miss Roche,” I said.

Elle huffed and tapped her temple.

“Not drunk enough. I can still hear him—my father. Up here. In my head. I’m a dis—disappointment. A disgrace. My sister—she’s perfect. Daddy’s little angel who has never done anything wrong in her fucking life. But me? I party ‘cause that’s all I’m good at.”

I took my phone out of my pocket. She was spiraling fast.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You have many other talents. Does your sister live close by? She could come and pick you up. I’d be happy to contact her on your behalf.”

Elle sputtered a laugh, waving me off.

“Are you kidding? Helene would leave me to rot in the gutter. It’s my fault, she’d say. For getting drunk. For flunking. For…for everything. It’s always my fault.”

I glanced around again, hoping a friend of Elle’s might materialize and clear up the whole situation. Getting involved with the personal lives of my students wasn’t professional. If they were struggling—with the loss of a loved one, financial difficulties, or their mental and physical health—I granted leniency in the classroom where it was due.

Otherwise, I maintained a firm line with my students. I wasn’t their therapist, friend, drinking buddy, or potential hook-up. I was their professor. End of story.

Unfortunately, it seemed if Elle had any friends who could help, they weren’t with her now. Whether they’d abandoned her, or she ditched them, it was impossible to tell. And I had no way of contacting Elle’s family. It sounded like they would make the situation worse anyway.

“Miss Roche,” I said. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

Elle stared at me with glassy eyes. She went quiet and her gaze turned distant, empty. She furiously swiped at a tear that slipped down her cheek, smearing her makeup even more.

“No,” she said. “There’s no one.”

I stifled a sigh. Damn it.

“What building do you live in?”

Elle scanned the dark campus with bleary eyes.

“Weston Hall. Over there. Daddy paid top dollar for it so I better appreciate it, he says.”

She pointed toward the south side of campus. There was no way this girl would find her dorm room on her own without help.

“Wrong direction,” I said. “Weston is on the north side of campus.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped and she wrapped her arms around her middle, looking like she might dissolve into tears at any moment. I needed to get her home safely before that happened. “I don’t feel good.”

“I can’t imagine why,” I replied drily. “Have you had anything to eat tonight? Or were you strictly on a mission to drown yourself in alcohol?”

Elle scowled.

“Don’t chastise me. I’m not a—a child. And you aren’t my father.”

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