Page 34 of Bad Professor

“I’m not interested in Cady’s friends,” I snap.

Silence. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Max demands in a cold voice.

“It means I don’t want to meet anyone. You keep pushing—Dammit.” I realize how this sounds. I am tired of Max and Cady trying to meddle in my dating life, trying to make me as happy as they are, but I shouldn’t have said it like that. Max is very protective about Cady—not surprising since she has quite the past as an exotic dancer and escort before she made her millions. Billions.

“It’s nothing about Cady,” I say quickly. “You know I adore her. It’s just… I’m an asshole today.”

“Nobody calls my bro an asshole. I jumped when I didn’t need to.”

Straight down my throat, which I kind of deserved. “Sorry, Max. Didn’t mean anything. Bad day.”

“Okay… you sure? This isn’t like you, especially on the first day of school. Usually, you’re so jolly.”

I can’t tell Max about Tilly.

The first time I got involved with one of my students, Max thought it was cool. We were twenty-six and idiots. He said being a teacher was a great way to pick up women and we laughed about it. He said something about the relationship giving me street cred, I asked if he wanted to come in as a guest lecturer and take his own shot.

The second time, he was a little worried but didn’t say much. There was no laughing.

The third time he asked if I was fucking insane.

There were others that he didn’t know about, and I had no desire to tell him. Max is a great friend and he’d tell me straight out, with a lot of profanity, if I was making a mistake.

Tilly would be a mistake. I know that. It still doesn’t help.

“Not feeling the jolliness,” I admit and then to change the subject, “You talk to Nick?”

“I texted him. He’s miserable too.”

“Look at you, stuck with the both of us.” I make a note to text Nick later when I pull myself out of this mood because I’ll be no help to him now. “Thanks for the beer offer but I’m going to sit and stew on my own tonight.”

“Change your mind, just give us a call.”

I can hear the concern in his voice and that’s what makes Max a good friend. It also means I would not be able to be in the same room with him without confessing everything. “Will do.”

I’m not about to change my mind. I’m not about to change my mind about any of it.

18

Tilly

I’ve never been an easy crier. Like, I’ve never been a person who bursts into tears because I’m tired or angry or watched one of those videos where the father in the Army surprises his family during dinner.

I’m not emotional. Maybe I used to be, but Carlos’s continual, “Don’t get so emotional,” cured me of that years ago.

I’m a tough cookie, so why is my face wet with tears by the time I get home?

Dexter is my professor. That should be enough but the way he dismissed me—I’d rather he be angry or rude, but to look at me like I didn’t matter, that what we did didn’t matter—cut deep.

It didn’t matter because it was one night and I never texted him back. This is my fault as much as his.

I keep telling myself that but it’s not working.

There are actual sobs as I struggle to get my keys in the lock. Bella meets me at the door with a meow, winding between my ankles. “Go away,” I choke.

How could Dexter look at me like that? “I’m your professor,” he said that cool, cold voice. “That’s it.”

He said it like that was it. That nothing about the night mattered.

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