He smiled. “I don’t think you’re either.”
“No?”
“No,” he said decidedly.
“I could still surprise you,” I said carefully. “I could still prove you wrong.”
For one insane moment, I wondered how he would react if I told him the truth. It was on the tip of my tongue when I stopped myself. I was too scared to confess, and I craved his attention too much to risk telling him now.
“Could you?” Chance asked, and he sounded intrigued. “Sounds like a challenge.”
I smiled. “Maybe it’s a warning.”
He tilted his head to the side and gazed at me thoughtfully. I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know exactly what he was thinking. I felt self-consciousness overtake me and wanted to hide behind something.
“I wish you had told me who you were that night,” he said after a moment.
“If I had, you might not have opened up to me like you did,” I pointed out.
He paused for a moment. “That’s right… I told you a few things, didn’t I?”
“You told me about your sister and your nephew,” I nodded. “You told me that when it came to relationships, you always fell short.”
“Hmm…looks like you weren’t the only one who had too much alcohol that night.” He spoke without a smile, and I wasn’t sure what he meant by that.
“Do you regret sharing all that with me?” I asked, half afraid of his answer.
Chance looked at me. His hazel eyes were far away for a moment, and then they focused in on me. “You know what’s strange?”
“What?” I asked nervously.
“I don’t regret sharing anything with you,” he admitted.
I let out a little burst of laughter. “You sound so surprised,” I pointed out.
“That’s because I am.” He nodded. “I’ve never been very good at opening up about my personal life, especially to someone who’s practically a stranger to me. But somehow…”
“Somehow?”
“I guess you just make me feel like I can talk to you,” he admitted.
I was thrilled at his admission and tried to control the delirious smile that was bursting to get out. “You make me feel the same way,” I told him.
“I would like to know more about you.” He spoke softly, almost as though he were just talking to himself. I wondered if it was my imagination or if there was a note of surprise in his statement.
“You can ask me anything,” I said willingly.
He smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t think this is the time or the place.”
I felt my face drop. Was he about to tell me that we couldn’t see each other? Were all his compliments just a way of softening the blow? The university had very strict policies about students dating teachers, and I wondered if Chance was one of those professors who considered those rules extremely important.
“Natalie, would you like to have dinner with me this Friday night?”
A relieved sigh escaped me, and I tried to cover it up with a question. “Doesn’t the university have a rule about student-teacher relationships?”
He shrugged. “They do.” He nodded. “But to be honest, I’ve recently come to realize how archaic that rule is. It doesn’t make sense to forbid two consenting adults from pursuing a relationship. Don’t you agree?”
“I do,” I said immediately. “But I’ve heard that there are severe penalties for teachers and students who are found disregarding that rule.”