Page 4 of Dear British Professor
“The letters!” I shriek into the phone. “The letters we wrote out on Friday night. Someone mailed them.”
“No. That’s not possible. We agreed.”
“So, you didn’t mail them out?” I ask, needing her to confirm.
“What? No! Why would you think that?”
“Because it was your idea.”
“It may have been my idea, but I have just as much to lose if those letters are sent out.”
She makes a good point, and I feel the panic in me fade a bit. There has to be a logical explanation for where the letters are.
“How could this have happened?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got to get back to work. We’ll talk about this later tonight.”
I want to be mad that she isn’t freaking out the way I am, but I know that there isn’t much she can do while she’s at work, so I’m on my own for now. I try and call Lucy and Cassidy, but neither one of them is picking up. It doesn't seem like something either one of them would do without telling everyone first.
I just have to hope there is some explanation for what happened, and it's not what I'm dreading it is.
SIMON
Jack and I head out for a pint after work. The pub is small but not usually too overcrowded—tonight is one of the rare exceptions. It looks as if some undergrad students have just discovered the place and invited everyone they know.
Willa's letter is still burning a hole in my pocket when we sit down in one of the booths that line the back wall. Jack looks over the crowd and gives a little wave at some undergrads standing near the bar.
“I need to talk to you about something.” I pull out the pink envelope and lay it down on the table.
Jack looks at it and then glances up at me. “What is that?” He reaches out for it, but I slap my hand over it.
“I didn’t bring this so that you could read it."
“Okay.” He leans back in the booth and rests his arms across the back of the leather bench. “If you aren’t going to let me read it, then I’ll ask again, what is that?”
I explain that the letter is a declaration of love without giving Willa’s name. Jack’s eyes light up in excitement.
“Let me read it.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me about something like that and not let me read it.”
I slip the envelope back into the breast pocket of my jacket. “I didn’t bring it with me so you could read it. I brought it because—”
“You’re interested in this chick.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Jack chuckles. “It’s written all over your face that you are interested, and you are looking for permission from me to see if it goes anywhere.”
He is reading me like an open book. My brain is telling me that this isn't a good idea. That while it's not technically a university rule, Jack's behavior can attest to that. It's not something they ever want to find out about. But my brain is a lot harder to listen to when all the blood rushes to my cock as I think about Willa and the soft curves of her body.
“I’m not looking for permission.”
“Sure you are, and you know that I’m one to talk to about this because I'm not going to talk you out of it. You need to loosen up. You've been here almost a year, and you haven't even gone out with anyone."
"That's not true. I went on that blind date awhile back."
