Page 79 of Boiling Point
Chapter 28
Gabrielle
The hallway outside Cal’s office felt like a pressure cooker: too warm, too bright, too many students pretending not to panic. I’d been spoiled by having his Thursday afternoon office hours almost entirely to myself. But I suppose the day before his midterm exam was reason enough to draw everyone out of the woodwork.
Two students sat ahead of me, slumped in institutional chairs like prisoners awaiting sentencing. I sat with my notebook open on my lap, pen poised, though I hadn’t written anything in ten minutes.
I didn’t need help with the midterm. Not really. I just needed five minutes with him. His voice. His air. Plus one more rundown of Faraday’s Law before the exam couldn’t hurt.
The door clicked open, and a girl stepped out, muttering a halfhearted thanks as she brushed past. That made me next—after Sloane.
“Miss Cartwright?” Cal’s voice floated into the hall, calm and clipped.
Sloane stood—perfectly composed, glossy lips set in a smile just shy of sincere. She adjusted the strap of her designer toteand smoothed down her sorority sweatshirt like she was heading into a casting call, not office hours.
“Dr. Hawthorne,” she cooed as she stepped inside, “thanks so much for squeezing me in.”
I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But the door didn’t quite latch.
“I’ve sent a few emails,” Sloane said, her tone rising at the end of each phrase, all faux-question marks. “But I figured it might be easier to talk in person. I was hoping to reschedule tomorrow’s exam. I’m flying out first thing, and I really can’t rebook.”
A pause. No response. But I could picture him—cool, collected, intimidating without trying.
“I’d hate to tank my GPA over an unavoidable six a.m. flight. Surely you can help me out.”
A longer pause.
Cal’s voice came crisp and even. “While I fully understand the appeal of an early start to spring break—which, I presume, is the only possible reason for the request—the exam schedule stands.”
“Would it help if my dad called and vouched for me? He’s on the Board of Trustees, after all.” She dropped that little nugget like a stone in water. Clever.
“That won’t be necessary,” Cal replied softly.
“Oh, good, because I’d hate for there to be any…unpleasantness.” Entitlement dripped from every word.
“That won’t be necessary because that strategy won’t work on me, Miss Cartwright.” She huffed, but before she could retort, Cal continued, “Your physics midterm exam is at eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Without exception. If you choose not to appear, you’ll receive a zero. And in this course, that would be difficult—if not impossible—to recover from.”
Another pause. Neither spoke, but the tension spilled into the hallway.
Then, a single line from Cal—Dr. Hawthorne. Calm. Unmovable. “Choose wisely.”
Sloane emerged with a flounce, cheeks tinted and expression soured. She shot me a scathing look, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might stay that way.
“Asshole,” she muttered as her steps quickened. “Think he’d show a little human decency. Fucking jerk.” Her words trailed after her, a scandalized wake rippling down the hall.
I tried not to smile.
“Miss Clark?” Cal’s voice was different—warmer, like a favorite song.
I sprang up, notebook tucked to my chest, and stepped into his office.
He looked at me with sweetness, though he tried for the usual façade. “Always a pleasure to see you,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk. “How can I help?”
I closed the door behind me, a click as soft as the smile I couldn’t quite keep in check. “That sounded…fun,” I said, sliding into the chair.
He rolled his eyes, a rare crack in the armor. “Oh, you have no idea.”
I bit my lip to hide a grin. “You handled it well.”
