Page 3 of Classroom Confessions

I yawned.

“Problem?” Professor Halstead’s voice cracked whip-sharp.

The sudden silence brought my head up. I met his cold gaze with an indifferent one of my own. He’d started up the steps but stopped several rows below me.

My crossed legs ached from keeping them pulled so tightly together. I tried to ignore the sensation of butterflies taking flight in my stomach. “No problem.”

“Are you sure? You seem to have a lack of interest in our current lesson.” There it was again, that hint of a challenge that tore down all my insecurities and made my mouth fly off.

“Because it’s not a lesson I need to learn.” There was plenty I’d love to learn. I’d love to know how he managed to get his hair styled like that. I’d love to learn how to write a romance novel that had women drooling over the story and the characters. I’d love to know what it was like to be on Ethan’s good side and have him look at me with respect instead of derision.

None of that mattered in light of the spark of annoyance that flared his nostrils and widened his pupils.

Wait. Wasn’t that a sign of sexual attraction? Ooh, la-la. No. Stop it. I shoved that thought way, way down deep.

Shocked laughter mixed with gasps that died down when Professor Halstead remained quiet a few heartbeats too long for comfort.

“Explain.” He barked the order at me.

The rudeness of it jolted me forward. I locked my hands together on top of the desk. “Romeo and Juliet is a classic. Sure. I’ll give you that. But what is there to learn from it? She was a fourteen-year-old child who killed herself for love while not even knowing for sure whether Romeo loved her or she’d been nothing more than rebound sex.”

Silence so absolute I heard my heart drumming in my ears and felt it all the way to my fingertips told me I’d gone too far. What happened to the quiet, insecure me who wanted to remain invisible? I’d shrink into my chair if it would help, but I’d started this and I’d be damned if I backed down now.

Some things were not to be tolerated, and touting this story as the greatest thing ever told was a tragedy I refused to support. I’d loved it once, but I’d grown up and discovered that love worth dying for rarely–if ever–made this a story worth writing lessons and essays about.

“See me after class.” Professor Halstead turned on his heel and marched down the steps.

I released a shuddering breath and picked up my pencil, discreetly wiping sweat from my forehead.

Whispers drifted around me. No doubt they wondered at my stupidity and what punishment I’d receive for being a complete idiot by challenging the professor in his classroom in front of everyone.

For fuck’s sake. I couldn’t catch a break. If this was any indication of how my college years would progress, I might as well quit now and try to finish my novel instead.

Students stood and gathered up their computers. I slid my laptop into my bag and slung it over my shoulder, waiting for those around me to descend the steps. I’d likely miss my next class. Great. I could handle this. I lifted my chin and took several deep, cleansing breaths to clear my mind. Concentrate on the problem, not how hot Ethan looked in his gray slacks or how the hollow of his throat pulsed in the open collar of his white dress shirt.

“What’s your name?” He sat on the corner of his desk, his feet planted on the floor and his arms crossed in an imposing manner that only made me pay more attention to his shoulders.

I gripped the handle of my bag in both hands, strangling it to keep from smoothing my skirt or playing with my hair. “Rebecca.”

“Rebecca.” He drew out each syllable in a series of long purrs that shot straight to my clit.

What the fuck was that about?

He crossed his ankles, and I swear he adjusted his pants. “You find Romeo and Juliet’s story annoying?”

“I find it a misrepresentation of the romance genre. It’s often heralded as the best romance of all time.” I snorted and released my bag. I needed my hands for this. “Can we be honest and admit that it’s really a tragedy masquerading as a romance?”

“You don’t think being willing to die to prove your love is a worthy endeavor?” Amusement tinged his voice, and one side of his mouth hitched up in a smirk.

I pointed at him, my fingertip coming close enough to his arm that we both looked down. I kept it there, though my insides shook at the powerplay. This was not me. Nothing about this encounter was normal, so why? Why did I open my mouth and let all my thoughts spill out? “I would have found a way to live and been happy for at least a little while. I wouldn’t have gone all ‘woe is me’ and taken poison. No sex is that good.”

“Really?” His eyebrows shot upward, and I very nearly died on the spot out of sheer mortification that I’d mentioned my own sex life in direct relation to my very hot, very off limits, professor. “That’s a shame.”

“I…” Wait. What? I took my time and lingered over his response. He watched me with a deep scrutiny that I should have found annoying, but coming from him, it set my body on fire and made me want to join him on the desk for a little extracurricular activity. “Don’t you have another class?” I squeaked out the question and licked my dry lips.

He followed the movement, his eyes focusing on my mouth. “Not until later. This discussion is too important to miss.” He unfolded his arms and straightened to his full height.

Electricity charged the air, raising the hair on my arms.

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