“It won’t happen again,” I squeaked, my voice high-pitched with nerves.
“Glad to hear it,” he snapped, turning away from me and grabbing a textbook. “Now, where were we before the interruption?”
The smart ass next to me raised her hand while simultaneously giving me a haughty stare.
Like I cared.
Puffing out my cheeks, I pursed my lips and blew out slowly, seeking calm that was proving elusive, as I pulled out my textbook and placed it gently on the desk.
“Dr. Blake…” She leaned forward, her boobs popping out of her tight black tank top. “…I think you were talking about the passion section of the syllabus.”
“Ah.” He snapped his fingers. “I believe you’re correct.” He looked down and examined a piece of paper, and then his lips curled into a smile as he glanced up. “Sophie, is it?”
Swear, the girl sighed out loud as she nodded her head eagerly. I glanced around in disgust and noticed most of the girls having similar screw me now reactions. What’s the big deal? So he was young and attractive? Who cared? How about passing class and making an impact on the world?
“Passion…” He spoke in that same low, fluid voice that had me slightly hypnotized before shaking my head. “…will be discussed after the emotions segment. This class is the simple study of emotions and the brain. Why do we do what we do? Do emotions drive our decisions? Or are they unnecessary in how they affect every single one of the choices we make? This class will help you decipher between logic and emotion, and hopefully once the semester is over, you’ll know your own emotions and your own brain better.” His voice cracked. “At least that’s my desire.”
The way he’d said desire had my head popping up involuntarily. His eyes were on me. I squirmed in my seat and jerked my gaze toward the board behind him.
“I’m not going to keep you the full time this morning…” He cleared his throat. “…because I have an assignment for you.”
“Of course he does,” a guy to my left said under his breath.
I offered him a quick smile.
Dr. Blake handed some papers to a student in the front row. “Pass these back.”
Once the paper hit my desk, I almost groaned.
“Wow, torture on the first day. How’d we get so lucky?” that same guy whispered.
It was like he was reading my mind. I couldn’t make out his face because I didn’t want to stare at him long enough to make him think I was interested. So I kept my eyes trained on my paper.
“A study of the face,” Professor Blake read aloud. “I want you to study your peers. On the paper you’ll see each emotion written out. I want a definition of the nonverbal cues you see. If you have permission from the person you’re studying, take a picture and upload it with your assignment when you’re finished. Gentlemen, this is not an excuse to stalk.”
The guy snickered. “Bummer,” he said under his breath, while my entire body froze.
It wasn’t a joking matter, and I hated that I was the only one in the room who couldn’t laugh at what was supposed to be a joke. My breathing picked up as I gripped the sides of my desk.
“The assignment’s due tonight by midnight. Class dismissed.”
Students shuffled by me, but my butt was firmly planted in my seat.
“Hey…” The guy next to me stood and hovered over my desk. “…you okay?”
Slowly I looked up. He seemed harmless enough. A dark black hoodie hung around his muscled chest. Bright blue eyes peeked out beneath really thick lashes and glossy brown hair.
My eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah, yeah, forgot to eat breakfast.”
He smiled. “Been there. By the way, I’m Jack.” He held out his hand.
Not knowing what else to do, I took it and whispered, “Lisa.”
“Cool.” He nodded. “Well, I guess I’ll see you later. Apparently we have homework!” He said the homework part loud enough for Professor Blake to lift up his head and glare.
The minute Jack walked out of the room, the tension picked up, sucking out any sort of comfort I’d felt at his encouragement. Scattering out of my seat, I quickly grabbed my things and headed for the door. I was almost free when I heard a throat clear.
“Lisa, a moment of your time.”
Funny how some sentences can sound so innocent, right? A moment? Is a moment — some time with your professor after being late — totally normal? But that one sentence wasn’t normal. Had I known how abnormal it was, I would have never turned around.
That was my first mistake.
Turning around and meeting his steely gaze.
Taking that first step in his direction, not knowing that in a few short months, I’d be helpless against his pull. Defenseless.
I stopped in front of the table in the front of the class and sighed. “Yes?”
Up close, he was prettier than he’d been from far away. I almost lost my nerve but met his gaze straightforward as if I didn’t realize he was beautiful, as if I wasn’t terrified of that same beauty and the intensity behind it.
“Sit,” he ordered.
I would have plopped on the floor had a chair not been right beside me. He demanded obedience, and, for some reason, I felt like I owed it to him.
I had no idea how true it was.
How I owed him more than obedience. My very soul.
“I expect students to be on time.” He folded his hands in front of his chest and leaned against the desk, his head cocked to the side, his grin friendly yet… distant. “Is that going to be a problem in the future?” His smile dropped briefly as his eyes darted away almost in disgust. “For someone like you?” His gaze returned, heated, then went completely cold.
Stunned, I could only stare in response. Was he serious? Someone like me? What did that even mean? Finding my voice, I answered, “You mean a sophomore like me?”
“No…” His jaw clenched. “…I meant it exactly how it sounded.”
“Well.” I cleared my throat and found a shred of confidence, probably the last bit I had for the day before I broke down and cried. “It sounded like you were implying that I was different than any other student here, and, I can assure you, I’m as normal as they come.”
“I’m sorry to be the only person willing to tell you the truth,” he said slowly. His full lips bared another smile, but it wasn’t kind. It was mocking. You know that feeling you get when someone stares at you, and it’s almost like you have no clothes on at all? But instead of it being out of lust, it’s total disgust? That was the look he was giving me, like I had no business being in school, like I had no business breathing the same air.