Page 13 of Tempt

This time, I hold it open for her. “Fine. Tomorrow.”

“I guess I’ll see you after class.” She bites her lip, like she’s still trying to decide if this was a terrible idea.

I’m suddenly determined to prove to her it’s not.

5

KAT

“Katrina. You look well rested after the summer.”

I look up from my texting Liv outside of my psych lecture hall to find Dr. Emily Trainor in a tailored pantsuit. Her hair is smoothed back, her face unlined thanks to Botox, genetics or both.

“Hi, Professor.” I follow her toward the front doors.

“Have you considered what you’ll do with your psychology degree next year?”

“I make a mean mojito, so bartending is in my top five. Maybe personal shopper.”

Her sigh is long-suffering.

Most of my professors this semester are new, but she’s taught me twice. There’s no tricking her with reading glasses or button-downs.

“Or I might be a therapist. I’ve had my eye on this Restoration Hardware sofa,” I deadpan. “And this way it could be a business expense.”

“Then you need to go to graduate school.”

“Wait, one second. Graduate school.” I pretend to write that down. “I’ll look into it.”

She shakes her head. “You’re capable, Kat. There’s more to you than you let on. I want to see you apply yourself instead of hiding behind an attitude.”

I flash a smile. “But my teachers have always said I have a can-do disposition.”

She shoots me a look.

“Let me give you a piece of advice. If you expect people to open up to you someday, you need to learn to be vulnerable too.”

I groan before dropping into a seat midway back.

Vulnerable’s not my color.

My fourth-year psych topics class has forty students. I catch up with a few I recognize before Professor Trainor begins her lecture from the front, her lifted face impassive as she walks through the syllabus and expectations.

“These are your teaching assistants.” Two grad students sitting in the front row turn and wave. “Don’t forget this Friday is the deadline for confirming your fourth-year projects. They might impact your future.”

Her gaze lands pointedly on me, a reminder of our conversation before she launches into a lecture on decision-making.

When the lecture wraps and I pack up my bag, I overhear the graduate students talking.

“You ready for group to start?”

“It’s the best part of the year. But the community center is short staffed, so we need to go early to set up.”

“What’s group?” I ask, leaning in.

“Group therapy,” one says. “We help the professor with it once a week.”

I turn that over as they leave.

---