Page 2 of Campus Daddies

“Okay. Sure. Tell him to text me.”

Dad laughs again, handing me a small mug. “I will. Thank you, honey.”

The first sip is a lot. “This is going to keep me up when I hit that midday lull, isn’t it?”

“It might.” He lifts his own cup to his mouth, and we bask in the sunshine coming through the window above the sink. Noah munches on his fruit and taps at his pad, and it’s a nice break before talking to my advisor.

If I leave now, I’d be far, far too early to show up at Professor Trevino’s office for our nine a.m. meeting. I begged him for the earliest meeting he would give me so that I could stop stressing about the what-ifs and start stressing about the minutiae of details that I’ve been setting up.

It’s my first appointment of the day before I run the Film Club and attend a later class. I would never be able to concentrate with this decision looming over my head. You know, too anxious to wait and too excited to get started on it.

I’m sipping the dregs of my coffee when either the caffeine or the anxiety has me fidgeting.

“Time to go,” Dad says. He really knows me too well. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I rinse my cup out and wrap my arms around him for the best reassuring hug. His arms squeeze me tight, rocking me for a few seconds as he plants a kiss on my temple and pats my back.

“He’ll approve it. You won’t allow for anything else.”

“Damn straight.” I slide around the counter to plant my own kiss on my own progeny and head over to campus. It’s usually a five-minute drive, but first-day traffic makes it more like ten. And parking takes another ten.

Still, I’m leaned against the wall beside Professor Trevino’s door with twenty minutes to spare. He arrives five minutes into my wait, the stark black suit jacket tight across his shoulders, a tie close to his throat over a crisp white shirt. How is he wearing all of that in the late August heat? My romper is barely keeping me cool.

The moment his Mediterranean eyes lift, they lock on mine.

I’m flashed back to being in his class freshman year and the fantasies I used to disappear into during lectures. More than just me had a major crush on him back then. I’m sure the same is still true. But beyond the shadowy good looks, his stern countenance is also rather sexy.

As much as I hear other students—still—complaining about how tough he can be, I’ve always loved his brutal honesty on my work. It’s why I asked him to be my thesis advisor. I was surprised he said yes… until we started talking about the project. Most of it has been over email.

“You’re early.” His voice is low and gruff, and I have to suppress the chill it gives me.

“I can’t help it. I’m excited.”

I savor his soft laugh as he shakes his head and opens the door. He steps into his office, but I don’t move. I don’t want to squelch any first thing in the morning office routines he may have. Professors have some weird quirks, so it’s best to wait and be patient.

“Well, are you coming?” Does he sound amused? How odd.

Grinning, I slip into his office and sit when he gestures to one of the two sleek chairs opposite his dark wood desk. Like his clothes, everything is in stark black and white with pops of gold. It fits him well and shows off a bit of his prestige.

He lingers by a hook beside his desk, removing his jacket before he sits across from me. God, that shirt is not hiding any of the shapely muscles across his shoulders.

Get it together, Soph!

It’s a good thing the glasses can’t showexactlywhat I’m looking at because hoo, boy, would I be in trouble. Also good that it can’t read my thoughts. That’s where the heavy hand of editing comes in.

I’m propped at the edge of my seat, waiting for the cue to get into it. And when he waves his hand at me, I launch my spiel.

“As you know, the project I’m proposing is a POV, slice of life documentary. I’ll be recording myself nearly twenty-four, seven from my point of view, plus I’ll be taking secondary B-roll of me in action or the space, etcetera, to fill in the gaps.”

Professor Trevino’s hands steeple in front of him, slowly tapping against his wide, supple mouth.Girl, quit ogling your mentor! Back to the project.

“Mostly, I want to present something that is authentic and very me. I don’t want to shy away from things that are too personal, although editing them in a way that is true to mewithout being obscene is my goal.” I pull the thumb stick I prepared from my bag and offer it to him. “I made a sample to show you. I thought it would be better than explaining.”

Slowly, he takes the proffered drive from my outstretched hand and taps it gently on the black desk pad in front of him. The silence stretches as he analyzes me with his gaze. It’s a classic tactic of his. Silence.

I know better than to babble my way through it. Heh. Been there, done that. Got the monogrammed keychain.

He takes the cap off and pauses again, his stern gaze making me sit a little straighter before he lands his first blow. “How are you going to make this different from what everyone else is doing?”

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