Page 11 of Don't Fall

Chapter Three

Tessa

I’m practically running out the door for the second time today, my own mug in my hand, freshly washed. I’m about to ram my elbow into my front door to knock and wait this time, when it opens unexpectedly and formerly Hot New Neighbor turned Hot New Roommate is standing there, just as surprised by the sight of me as I am by him. I don’t know why I can’t get myself to call him by his name. Other than I don’t like it and Drea started me on this stupid nickname thing I can’t seem to stop now.

“Mug.”

“Wow. That was fast.” He smiles. I wish he was ugly. Alas, he’s not, leaving me to only one defense. Look away.

“Okay, then. Have a nice day.” I readjust my bag, now that I have both hands to work with, and make a dash for the stairs. He’s obviously headed out as well, the last thing I want is some attempt at small talk while we travel down three flights of stairs. We’ve had enough awkward small talk to last us for months to come. And God knows, how much more we’ll accumulate once we’re living together for real. If these are my last moments of freedom from repressed, weird and humiliating conversations, I want to savor them.

With the sound of his thundering footsteps following close behind, I skip the last three steps and lunge for the sidewalk, an easy feat considering I run track in exchange for my education.

I fumble at my car, unable to retrieve my keys fast enough. As luck would have it, the fancy new BMW parked beside me is his. I should have known. I thought it looked out of place last night, but I just assumed someone had company.

“Running late for class?”

I look up involuntarily at the sound of his voice. Damn my efficient reflexes.

“How did you know I was a student?”

He shrugs. “Lucky guess. The laptop bag and books helped, of course.”

He’s wearing glasses now. They completely change his look. I also notice he’s paired his bland khakis from earlier with a blue button up shirt complete with long sleeves which given the hot weather, can only serve to cover up his tattoos. It’s suddenly very apparent that he’s older than me. He’s like, a legit grown up. Somehow, that only makes him sexier.

“Aha!” I yank my keys out at last.

He smiles. I smile. Why? Why am I smiling at the man who hijacked my home?

“I gotta go.” And I do. But I smile the whole damn ride to school. Maybe I really am the crazy one.

I’m so freaking late by the time I pull into the parking lot, I have to run across campus to get to class. I think I hear my name called a time or two while I’m zooming past the blurred faces, but catching up with people will have to wait until after Psychology.

When I almost come flying out of my left sandal, I pause briefly and readjust. I’m still focused on my toes and trying to get them back around the stupid thong of my shoe when I hear his voice. Again.

“We really need to stop meeting like this.”

“Oh my God! Are you following me?” Clean record, my ass.

He grins amused, something I realize he does frequently when interacting with me, and I’m generally not all that funny. “Relax, Tessa. I’m just trying to get to my class on time like everyone else.”

“Alrighty then.” I practically take off at a sprint, mostly to keep my next thoughts from spilling out of my mouth before I can stop them. Like, how is he a student here? And how has this not come up before now. Then, I notice the distance between us isn’t increasing. He’s headed the same place I am. So, I speed up some more. At the very least, I’m not walking in late with him.

At least I don’t plan to. When his hand reaches the handle the same time mine does, I lose all hope of ever being rid of him.

As soon as I’m in the room, I spot the only seat available in the front row. I’m mentally preparing myself to wrestle him for it as I make a mad dash for the last chair – determined not to let him steal another thing from me, only when I get there, my butt claims it without any interference from him. Shockingly. In fact, now that I’m turned around again, there’s no sign of him anywhere. Maybe I missed an open seat in the back somewhere?

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to Social Psychology.”

Oh God.

This can’t be happening.

“My name is Dr. Michael McMichael – yes, my parents were those types of assholes – and I’ll be taking over this course for Dr. Cremer while she’s on maternity leave. For those of you wondering, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy just last month.”

Michael McMichael. His parents really were assholes. Not important. He’s my Professor. Hot New Roommate Michael is my professor.

I spend the next fifteen minutes staring at my feet and wishing I could disappear. Considering I’m sitting right up front, he’d likely notice if I made another run for it though. I can’t text Drea either. I can’t do anything. Least of all pay attention to anything he’s saying. It’s not until I notice everyone reaching for pen and paper or whipping out their laptops and tablets, that I start to feel as though participating is a viable option again. Thankfully, we spend the rest of class taking notes while he gives an annoyingly insightful lecture on gender and the ways in which society is affecting how we identify ourselves, as well as members of the opposite sex. He’s smart. And humble in a way that really makes you underestimate him. Made me underestimate him. He’s not crazy. Or unstable. But I am. Of course, Dr. McMichael already knows that because he knows his stuff. It’s clearly why he’s always laughing at me.

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