Page 3 of Teach Me
Who was I kidding?
I gathered my things and stormed into the auditorium. He was at the desk, arranging papers into neat piles. Dr Braithwaite liked everything to be in order. He was, as Freud would’ve said, quite anal about how he conducted his lectures. It was a little quirk I usually found endearing, but when I trotted over to him, I had to restrain the urge to sweep his precious papers onto the floor.
‘What do you mean my hypothesis is flawed? Women don’t want to be degraded!’
Dr Braithwaite glanced up at my outburst. He smiled and leaned back against his desk. ‘Good morning, Ophelia.’ The purr in his deep voice sent tingles down my body.
‘Don’t “good morning” me. How is it flawed?’ I propped my hands on my hips, struggling to assert myself as usual.
‘It’s based on an opinion.’
‘Huh?’ Dr Braithwaite had a habit of turning my brain to mush. He could also cut any argument short with a single look, which I got when the other students filtered into the auditorium.
‘Stay behind after the lecture.’ He glanced at my boots, quirking a smile. ‘We’ll discuss it then.’
I swallowed a sigh. It was always a challenge to be alone with him. Dr Braithwaite was in his mid-forties, but like expensive wine, he’d matured into perfection. The streaks of grey in his dark hair and the lines around his blue eyes only enhanced his charisma. It didn’t help that he kept himself in good shape and wore expensive suits that hugged his tall, muscular frame.
Carly tugged on my arm. ‘Are you coming?’
‘What?’ I blinked at her before eyeing Dr Braithwaite again, waiting for… what? It wasn’t like I needed his permission to leave his side, but I sought it regardless. He perched on the edge of his desk, arms crossed over his broad chest. His attention was on the rows of seats in front of him, but he maintained that small smile. Not quite amusement, but close enough to make me wonder what he was thinking.
‘Let’s grab our seats,’ Carly said.
‘Umm, yeah, I’m coming.’ But before I could move, Dr Braithwaite pulled a clean tissue from his pocket and held it out for me. ‘Uh, what’s that for?’ I asked.
‘You’ve left a puddle on my floor.’ His deep voice made his statement sound ten times dirtier, and, of course, I flushed like a teenager with a hopeless crush on an older boy.
I hid my burning face by bending to clean up the spilt drops of tea. God, I had to stop gawking at him. He was probably amused because he knew why I’d worn these boots. Or maybe he also thought I worked at a strip club.
I straightened and stuffed the dirty tissue into my coat pocket. ‘I’ll see you after the lecture.’
‘Mhmm,’ he said with a courteous nod, giving nothing away, his attention still on the other students.
Carly gushed about her early Christmas present from her boyfriend as we climbed the steps. I tuned her out, having not dated anyone in years. My last relationship had been a complete disaster, but it had inspired the research topic for my dissertation. Myflawedhypothesis. When we reached our usual seats, I dropped my bag on the floor and shot a scowl in Dr Braithwaite’s direction.
It wasn’t flawed; I was living proof.
Joshua took a seat in the row to my left, blatantly staring as I removed my coat. My fingers itched with the need to throw something at him, but I didn’t have the guts to do it in front of Dr Braithwaite. Our lecturer slowly sipped his coffee as he waited for everyone to find their seats. The slight narrowing of his eyes suggested he had clocked Joshua’s appreciation of my clothes. Or rather, what they failed to cover. The buttons on my red blouse stopped just shy of my cleavage, exposing the swell of my breasts. My black skirt was so tight that I struggled to cross my legs.
I tugged on the fabric to cover my thighs, but all I managed to do was tear my sheer tights. For God’s sake. What was I thinking? I was a jeans-and-woolly-jumper girl, like Carly.
I needed to get laid. Maybe that was the cure for this crush. But when had sex ever solved anything for me?
Unfortunately, the only person I wanted didn’t appear to appreciate my wardrobe choice or what was on display. My heart stuttered under the silent censure hardening Dr Braitwaite’s features as he eyed me over the rim of his cup. It was ridiculous how this man could chastise me without words. It was even more ridiculous how much I craved his approval.
Lowering my gaze, I focused on retrieving the right notebook from my bag without further embarrassing myself and took my time choosing a pen, only looking up again when the room fell silent.
Dr Braithwaite handed a stack of papers to a student in the first row. ‘Pass these along, please. Your mock exams, as promised,’ he continued in a louder voice. ‘Please take the time to review your feedback before your January exams.’
Carly stuck hers into her bag without looking at it, then eyed me with a sour expression. ‘Let me guess… nothing but praise as usual?’
‘Hey, I studied hard for this.’
‘Such a teacher’s pet,’ she teased.
I wished.
‘He’s tougher on me than you think.’ I slipped it into my bag, struggling to mask my smile.
