Page 24 of Don't Fall

Chapter Six

Tessa

Time is not my friend today. I mean, it seems like it is, because I have access to it in a most abundant way, but it’s not my friend. It’s faking friendship. Feigning the whole thing. I don’t need extra time today. I definitely don’t want it. Especially not now when I have seven minutes to spare before class starts and I’m the only one sitting in this room with Lane. Make that Professor McMichael. Some days it just doesn’t pay to be so damn focused on your studies that your only objective in life is to get to class on time. At least not when the class is taught by your superhot roommate who no one is supposed to know is your roommate, so all you can think about is not doing anything awkward that would give it away, in turn making you do only awkward things that will totally give it away.

I’ve spent days properly avoiding him and thus, avoiding thinking about him, which, admittedly, I do a lot. Even when I’m avoiding it. Which only reaffirms my need to continue to avoid him.

“You’re brooding.” He doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading while seated behind his desk. I don’t know if this offends me or comforts me. It’s probably both. Which swings the internal pendulum constantly rating my feelings toward him into annoyed. He shouldn’t give a single thought to my current mood. He shouldn’t give me any thought at all. His thinking about me in any way whatsoever has only complicated my life thus far. I don’t like being thought of. It makes me think of why I’m being thought of and frankly, I don’t have time for that trail of obsessive analyzation right now. Not when I’m so busy analyzing my constant need to think about him.

“You’re supposed to ignore me.”

“I am ignoring you. I didn’t even look at you.”

“Then how do you know I’m brooding?”

He drops the book on his desk in an audible thump, his handsome face getting even more handsome when he starts to grin. “You’re a noisy brooder.”

“Excuse me?!”

He smirks. “You’ve popped your knuckles like three times already. You do the same thing when you’re staring at your laptop stuck on a project. You brood loudly.”

I fight the urge to huff like a two-year-old and it’s not easy. “Maybe you observe loudly.” Wow. Really, Tessa?

Lane says nothing, clearly even he deems my comeback unworthy of a response.

“Also, you’re my professor and discussing my brooding habits, especially those you’ve witnessed in private during my personal life, is not just something we agreed we wouldn’t do while I’m your student in your classroom, but it’s also extremely awkward. And uncomfortable. For me.”

He leans forward, looming over his desk, no longer smiling. “Maybe being observant enough to notice when someone is stressing out over something overrides my job because I care more about being a decent human being than a professor. And maybe me pointing out your knuckle-popping tendencies – which anyone within earshot would be aware of by the way, is only awkward when you make it that way. Maybe it’s actually just a byproduct of my good hearing.”

“Maybe you’re a dick.” The words fly out of my mouth faster than I can stop them. Goddamn it. Why do I always attack before I think?! He looks startled. I laugh. Because this is insane. I’m insane. “Annnnd, maybe I’m a dick.”

“Maybe you are.” He grins again. Thank the Gods. And curse me. Because now I want to call him a dick all over again. He scares me. I don’t know why. But he does.

I take a deep breath and exhale. My mouth opens and just as I’m about to unload my current troubles for no good reason whatsoever, the door opens and several other students walk in before my mouth can commit the ultimate, and irreversible, betrayal.

We exchange a glance as the room continues to fill. I’m not sure what it means. Probably not what I think it means. I think it means more. Not more than it does, just...more.

Maybe I should drop this class. If for no other reason than because the room clearly has a ventilation issue. Where is the air conditioning? I’m freaking melting in here. Something I’m almost positive has nothing to do with the smoldering gaze he’s dropping on me yet again when we very specifically agreed to ignore each other while on campus. This thing he’s doing, definitely the opposite of ignoring someone.

I actually don’t think he’s hitting on me. I don’t think he’s ever hit on me. And yet, he does seem to find me unusually interesting. Considering the man has a doctorate in psychology that’s probably not a good thing. At the very least, it’s not particularly flattering.

“Holy crap it’s hot in here,” I mutter as I tug at the collar of my shirt, wishing desperately I had a second layer on to peel off for some sense of relief.

The chick sitting next to me scowls. She’s wearing a hoodie. Zipped up to her chin. Maybe it’s just me.

I skip the library today. I haven’t finished my last book yet, mostly because I’ve been too distracted to concentrate on anything, leading me to blankly stare at the same page over and over again any time I attempt to get into it.

And it’s not all Lane’s fault either. Miriam has been checking in with a slew of vague text messages for days and I can’t bring myself to answer her. Too much has happened in the last few months, and while I knew jumping straight back into the daily routine of school and work would leave little time to process and grieve, I was still expecting some sort of normalcy to aid me in moving forward. Winding up in some weird roommate situation with my hot professor obviously doesn’t lend itself well to normal...anything.

Even if I was confident in my abilities to fool Miriam into believing that everything is just hunky-dory around here, I don’t think I’d be able to keep from asking the question I don’t really want answered. Did she know? About Lane? About Meredith’s attempt to snatch my home out from under me? How could she not?

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of all the thoughts I’m desperate not to think, and stumble my way toward the large oak tree near the parking lot where the grass is soft and thick and you can sit for hours without getting stiff or even all that dirty. Not that I have hours to waste, but a little tree time would do me good.

“Here.” Drea’s hand is waving a donut back and forth in front of my face as she sits down on the grass beside me.

“You already had a bite of this.” I take it anyway.

“I thought it was cream filled. It’s not. It’s jelly.” She makes a face.

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