Page 21 of Smolder

“I take it, you won’t believe that I came to charm you?”

Royal

It was slightly hard to breathe. I was sweating. As in my hands were so damp that it was hard to make notes. Every time I looked up and found Professor Brereton’s gaze pause on me, my heart rate sped up. He’d never paid much attention to anyone in this class. I always sat in the back, never asked questions, blended into the crowd. Today, he saw me and only me, it seemed.

By the time he dismissed the class, I felt slightly ill. I gathered my things, trying not to look in his direction, but I could feel his eyes boring into me.

He had been tipped off. Had I made someone mad? What was so different about today that he was suddenly very aware of me?

His monotone voice and apparent boredom with everyone had been working so well for me.

“Excuse me, Miss Shelton, is it?” he asked.

I felt the blood drain from my face. He knew my name. Which meant he knew I wasn’t on his class roll.

Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I needed to think fast. I had to come up with something.

He could find out about all the classes I attended. I needed the money I got for the papers, but this was also my way of getting educated, even without the degree to go with it. This was something I enjoyed. It helped with accepting that I couldn’t take the scholarships I’d been offered because the schools were too far away for me to live at home. Grams needed me. Leaving hadn’t been an option.

Straightening my shoulders and taking a deep, calming breath, I tried to regain my composure as I held my books to my chest and turned to look at Professor Brereton. He was in his late fifties, I’d guess, with silver hair that he kept neatly trimmed. He wasn’t unattractive, but he wasn’t necessarily attractive either. He just was.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, smiling as if I had no reason to be concerned. Possibly arrested. Could I be arrested for this? Was it illegal to do what I’d been doing? Sure, the papers for other students were bad, but not jail-time bad. I didn’t think. Why hadn’t I checked into that?

He crossed his arms over his chest. “It strikes me as odd that you are always here, in the back of the class, yet it’s been brought to my attention that you aren’t actually registered for this class. In fact, after some digging, I found you’re not even enrolled at Howison. Would you like to explain?”

I was going to vomit. Right here, on the floor at his feet. Then possibly faint while he called security to escort me off campus. Remaining calm was something I was typically good at. I had an excellent poker face, which was one of the reasons I was so good at it. But right now, that technique had left the building. I was in full panic mode. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I couldn’t get one single sound through the panic clenching my throat.

“Nothing to say?” he asked.

He raised both gray eyebrows at me. He had a mole over his left one. I wondered if he’d gotten that checked. It didn’t look good.

Why was I thinking about his mole?

I needed to say something. Get myself out of this mess. I had four hundred dollars’ worth of papers in my satchel that I had spent hours on. That was money I’d planned on using for the electric bill and part of the phone bill.

“I, uh …” The words came out in a stammer.

“Yes, I’d love to hear what you have to say about this and the fact that you are doing essays for students at a price. That makes this even worse. Don’t you think?”

Oh God. Oh God. How did he find out?

I needed a good lie—no, an exceptional one—but nothing was coming to me.

I heard the door to the room open, and I wasn’t sure if I should look. What if it was campus security—or worse the police?

I sucked in a breath, on the verge of tears.

“Professor, sorry to interrupt,” the deep, familiar drawl startled me.

I spun around to see Amory walking toward us.

What was he doing here? Was it him who had told on me? No, surely not. I mean, unless he’d been working undercover for the college. Did they have those here? Why would they? Why had I trusted this man?

His smile shifted to me. I held my breath, afraid of what was coming next. I’d trusted the wrong person. He knew too much. Was it because I had turned him down for a date? This was a little drastic of a response, if so. We’d been texting some. It had been friendly. What else had I told him?

“I’m handling a situation, Mr. …” Professor Brereton replied sharply.

He didn’t know Amory, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the one who had ratted me out.

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