Page 41 of Loving the Liar

Chapter Eleven

Ella

TEETH - WesGhost, Diggy Graves

It’s not Reeves who catches my smile. His head is down, reading something on his desk. Chris, however, is talking to a girl at the front of the room, and I feel like a magnet. Because the second I enter, his eyes are on me.

I stop for a second, unsure what to do as he lets his gaze roam over my body. His eyebrows pinch in disapproval, making me want to run to him and explain myself. I want to bow my head and ask if what I’m doing is okay, because that’s what my subconscious loves. His authorization to do something, his acceptance of my behavior.

I fight my instinct and walk to the front row, sitting in a middle desk where Reeves will have a perfect view of me. He’s still not looking up, but he will have to at some point.

“Isn’t he so perfect?”

I startle, turning to the girl sitting right next to me. I don’t even know her name, that’s how rarely anyone talks to each other in this class.

“Sorry?”

“Christopher Murray. He’s been helping so many of us. Professor Reeves is going to struggle to kick us out of his class this term.”

I forget to even ask her for her name, my brain too busy focusing on Chris again as I openly stare at him. It doesn’t stop her from talking some more.

“He took time to reassure me about my essay when I handed it last week. I asked if he could look at it before, maybe give me a few tips, but he said he’d be grading them so he couldn’t. Still, the kind words meant a lot. He’s so nice.”

He didn’t only give me kind words. He gave me more than the tips this girl asked for and didn’t get. He rewrote parts of mine because he knows I need to stay in this class.

“Megan McLean is so lucky.”

Pouring a bucket of ice on me would have felt warmer. I used to feel so special in Chris’s eyes. I used to know, despite our relationship being secret, that I was the one he belonged to. Now, it’s Megan.

Chris politely smiles at the student he’s talking to, tapping her upper arm to tell her the conversation is over as he excuses himself. He walks to my desk, standing in my view of Reeves, and presses a hand on the wood. The other girl is focused on reading her notes now, and he doesn’t give her an ounce of attention. No, it’s all on me.

“Ella,” he says in nothing but a professional tone, although the level of it means only I can hear him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I smile politely. “Waiting for class to start?”

Chuckling casually, he drums his fingers on my desk. “Is there a reason you’re dressed so”—he looks at my body, picking his words carefully—“differently today.”

“I’m wearing SFU’s undergrad uniform,” I laugh softly. “It’s the same one every day.”

He doesn’t like my sarcasm. His fingers pause their movements, his palm lightly slapping the desk.

“Are you dying to get punished?” he says, lowering his voice even more, all semblance of politeness falling away. This is the side none of those girls see. When the smile drops, and the possession kicks in.

“If you want to touch someone so badly, why don’t you touch your girlfriend? Or is it fiancée now? Aren’t you going to be married soon?”

After what he did yesterday in Reeves’s office, I think I’m allowed to bring up Megan whenever he gets too close.

“Alright, everyone.” Reeves’s voice cuts through our conversation, and Chris takes a step back, heading to his desk. “I’m giving back your graded essays today. If you got less than a B, I’m politely asking you to leave. You don’t have what it takes.”

My hands are sweating, gaze dropping to my desk as I wait. Because I’m at the front, I’m one of the first ones to get my paper back.

“Miss Baker,” Reeves says, his eyes sticking to my open shirt for a few seconds too long. His face is blank when he adds, “I’m not sure if my assistant is more lenient than I am, or if you were less disappointing than usual. I’ll be the one grading your next essay.”

Ouch.

But it’s hard to care about what he says when he places the paper before me, and I look at the red circled B.

My eyes fly to Chris. This is thanks to him.

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