Page 7 of Can't Have Him

Later that afternoon, when I walk into my apartment, I’m greeted with Emma’s cheerful hello. I grumble a hello back and throw my backpack on our couch.

“What’s up, missy?” Emma says, poking her head out of her bedroom.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Come on. Tell me what happened.”

I dig my exam out of my bag and shove it at her. She looks at the grade, then frowns at me. “That sucks. Sorry. You studied so much, too.”

“I know,” I say. I shake my head. “It’s fucking ridiculous.”

“Do you think he graded you harder because…you know…he didn’t want you, or anyone else, to think that he’s favoring you?”

I snort. But when I think about it more, maybe Emma’s onto something.

“Huh,” I say. “You could be right.”

“You should confront him about it.”

“No. I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Youhaveto, Olivia. It’s really unfair for him to do that.” She smiles. “I’ll go with you if you want. For moral support, of course.”

I roll my eyes. “You just want to see how hot he is.”

“So what if I do?”

“Okay. Fine. We’ll go to his office hours. But you’re not coming in with me.”

“As long as I get a peek,” says Emma, grinning, “I’ll be satisfied.”

Chapter Four

James

“Thanks for coming in, Sarah,” I say, standing up to open my office door. The student smiles and thanks me for my time and walks out of my office. I glance at the clock and see that there’s only five minutes left of my office hours. The last few hours have gone by in a flash.

I step out into the hallway to see if anyone else is waiting. And I’m greeted by two faces. One I don’t recognize—but when she sees me, a smile immediately spreads across her lips.

The other girl waiting is Olivia, who doesn’t smile in the slightest when she sees me.

“Olivia,” I say stiffly. “Come in.”

Silently, she follows me into my office. She takes a seat in the chair beside my desk and I close the office door. It feels dangerous, closing it. And as soon as I do, my office suddenly feels warmer—and suddenly feels too small.

“How can I help you?” I ask, taking a seat.

“I’m here to talk about the grade you gave me on the midterm,” she says. She thrusts the exam toward me, but I don’t even look down at it.

“What’s the problem?” I say.

“I deserve a higher grade than this.”

“You do, huh?” I lean back in my chair. “Tell me why.”

“No.Youtell me why you graded me so low.”

“I took off points where I saw problems with your essay answers. It’s as simple as that.”

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