Page 11 of Teacher's Pet
I raised my hand. “I didn’t follow you. I was coming here too.”
“I don’t believe you. There’s no one here. You followed me from the elevator. What, you wanted to get me alone? You try anything, I’ll—”
“Calm down,” I said, letting my professor voice take over, the same tone that quiets a room without raising the volume.
His reaction was immediate. A hundred to zero, like watching a match flare and burn out in seconds.
Volatile. Impulsive. That kind of swing makes for trouble in a classroom.
And outside of it.
Still… there was something in the way he held that heat, like he could summon it again just as fast. It pulled at my attention longer than it should have.
He went still, jaw tightening before he swallowed, eyes never leaving mine.
“I’m Mr. Thorne. This is my class.” I say, gesturing to the room, “and I was just retrieving my file.” His eyes widened as he looked me over. “Nobody is following you–I can assure you.”
He remained slack, his eyes lingering over me as I gathered my documents.
“Ever heard of a one-day notice?” He asked, though he couldn’t keep that bite from his tone.
“If you checked your email earlier….” I began, shoving the papers in my satchel, “You would know I sent multiple emails announcing class was postponed today.”
The blond’s throat bobbed, like he’d lost his words.
“I—I…” He coughed, cleared his throat, then shook his head. A small smile tugged at his mouth, one meant to disarm, but the tick in his jaw betrayed him.
My heart skipped despite myself. His green eyes caught the light, his teeth perfect and bright. For a moment, the room seemed to still around us.
This is the absolute worst combination in a human being: one who knew he was pleasing to look at andusedit.
He stepped closer, smile still in place. Very,veryforced. “Sorry, Professor, I hope you can forgive me for you know—.”
“Referring to me as a moron or calling me a sick freak?” I deadpaned, though mentally I regretted the words as soon as they came out.
It was a low blow, but his earlier attitude still lingered beneath my skin.
How juvenile of me.
He tugged absently at his bottom lip and glanced down. His expression suggested embarrassment, but something in his posture didn’t quite align. His hands tightened into fists. I couldn’t tell if it was nerves… or something else entirely.
“Yes. Sorry about that, and the elevator, and getting your coat wet… just.” He exhaled, a quick, almost nervous sigh. “Just everything. It’s my first day here.”
As he leaned in a little, his words carried the faint scent of spearmint.
I stepped back on instinct, but he followed. My hip brushed the edge of a desk.
Relax. He’s just a student.
“It’s really nice to meet you, Professor.” His gaze lifted to mine, green eyes sparkling. “I’m so”—there was something in his voice, not quite nameable—“excited to be in your class.”
When he let go, it struck me how close we’d been, and that I’d noticed at all.
Up close, his lashes were long, freckles dusted his nose, and his lips were pink. His damp hair stuck up in soft tufts. He was conventionally attractive. And he stood close enough to make the air feel heavier.
I stepped back again. “No hard feelings. I’m sure you were just having a bad day.”
“Yeah, sorry,” he said quickly. “That, and being soaked. It sucks.”
