Page 18 of Forbidden Lessons

How dangerous could napping be?

I’m still staring wistfully out the window when a loudthumpmakes me jump in my seat. Simone gives me an apologetic smile when I spin around to stare at her in surprise.

“Hope you have a trolley or something,” she says, flipping her blond ponytail over her shoulder.

I stare at the stack of six books, each at least an inch thick. “Woof.”

She widens her eyes, nodding. “Exactly, yeah. Woof.” She lifts her arm, making her skinny bicep pop through the thin fabric of her sweater. “Great workout.”

There’s no way I’m carrying all those books around with me. I groan as I realize I’ll have to take them to my car.

The parking lot is a few minutes walk from the college. Just a large area of cleared land beside a row of pine trees. My sneakers crunch loudly over the gravel as I carry the books to my parked car. I guess a lot of students and faculty members take the shuttle from town, because there’s only a couple dozen cars parked out here.

The ones that are though?

There’s a reason I parked right at the end of the lot, partially obscured behind a massive boulder someone left right the fuck where it lay. The contrast between my dented white clunker and the gleaming Audis, Land Rovers, Mercs, and Escalades was just pitiful.

Especially the sleek black Tesla parked next to my Toyota. I couldn’t help but admire it this morning, and my curiosity still hasn’t faded. The tinted windows make it hard to see inside, but I’m sure those are red leather seats.

I wrestle my car keys out of my pocket, arm shaking under the weight of all six books. Simone wasn’t kidding about getting a workout.

Predictably, I can’t juggle everything as I try to unlock the trunk.

Inevitably, everything goes flying.

My head falls back as I groan in frustration. I’m in half a mind to leave everything where it is, get in my car, and take that fucking nap.

“Things seem to be going well for you today, Miss Lee. Did you walk under a ladder recently?”

What is it about my body going into primal survival modes when I’m around Professor Rooke? First fawn, now freeze?

Gravel crunches as he walks up to me. As soon as I realize he’s going to help me pick up my books and things, I’m on my knees to collect them before he can. It’s like I’ve suddenly become weirdly competitive or anything.

“You don’t need to do that. I shouldn’t have been carrying so many. That’s why I came to dump them in the car. Can’t be lugging around a hundred books?—“

When he reaches for the financial responsibility form that had fluttered further away than the rest, I scramble up to grab it before he can. But he’s closer, and already holding it by the time I latch on.

He smiles ruefully when I try to tug it out of his fingers, so I whip my hand away with spiteful ferocity.

His warm brown eyes crinkle at the corner as he turns the page over to read it. With his attention diverted, I can study him outside of the confines of his lecture hall. The noon sun gleams in his black hair, tinting even more of it silver. But despite his graying hair and the deep frown lines on his brow, I can tell he’s not old. I’d say mid to late thirties?

It’s downright evil how good looking he is with his tweed jacket slung over his arm, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up surprisingly muscular—and surprisingly pale—arms, a trail of dark hairs disappearing under the fabric.

“Black cats can be trouble too,” he muses, as if to himself. “I’d avoid them if at all possible.”

“No ladders or cats. Got it.” I puff a strand of hair out of my face when it tickles my nose. “But I’m kinda leaning more toward a curse.”

“A curse?” He watches me intently, and I don’t know why, but that makes me want to keep blabbing.

“Mirrors are seven years bad luck, ladders probably only a week or two, right? I’ve had this generalized kind of bad luck for the past, oh, I don’t know, my entire life?” I nod definitively. “A witch is definitely involved.”

I hear him take a breath through his nose as he widens his eyes, like he can’t believe he’s standing here listening to my garbage thoughts. He carefully lays the form down on the pile in my arms and turns to his Tesla. It unlocks with an eerily dystopian chime.

“I hope you will be more prepared tomorrow, Miss Lee.” He opens the door, turning back to me as he puts his leg inside.

It has a red leather interior. Dark, like wine.

I never thought an electric car could look so sexy, but I’m pretty sure it’s less about the interior and more about the man about to climb in. He’s so trim. So well put together.

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