The girl beside me slinks away, leaving me entirely on my own. Not that it matters. I don’t even think Professor Barclay noticed that I wasn’t the one holding the phone, just the one looking at it.
“Let’s solve the problem, shall we?” he continues with a harsh tone.
He walks around the podium and retrieves a wooden chair that’s housing his things. Swiping his bag off of it, he carries the chair to the front of the classroom, dead center, completely on its own in front of the podium and projector.
“Come take a seat.”
“Lucky,” the girl with the phone whispers.
No. This isn’t luck. It’s the exact opposite. A curse. An omen. One bad impression could be written off, but now this? There’s no way he’ll ever believe I was in the wrong place at the wrong time twice.
I make quick work of gathering my things, but in my haste, my pen bag spills out onto the floor.No.My things scatter everywhere. Tears gather in my eyes, which only annoys me more. I will not cry about something so silly. The girls help me gather all my pens and pencils as Professor Barclay clears his throat. One hot tear slips down my cheek.
God, I wish I could disappear.
Once everything is in hand, I duck my head and walk toward the front of the classroom, down the center aisle. Like a bride walking toward her waiting groom, all eyes are on me.
Professor Barclay stands with his arms crossed, and I peer up at him from beneath my wet lashes.
When he sees me up close, I swear there’s a fleeting look of remorse that passes over his features, but then it’s gone. Maybe I only wished there was.
“You’ll sit here from now on,” he tells me, pointing to the chair. His voice is quiet now that I’m so close, but he’s still mic’d up, so the whole class hears. “Think of it as your assigned seat.”
I sit just as he asks, prop my textbook on my lap, and keep my head ducked the rest of class. I listen to his lecture, but I can’t gather the courage to look up at him for fear he’ll see my feelings plain as day on my face.
I absolutely despise him. To call me out like that, to make me sit up here like a child in time out—who does he think he is?
The moment he wraps up class, I’m up and out of my chair, moving through the crowd toward the back entrance before most people have even closed their laptops and stuffed their textbooks back into their bags.
I’m almost to the door when a hand darts out to touch my arm. It’s Sonya, and she’s grinning. In all my haste to leave the room, I completely forgot she and Annette were in the class with me.
“What a production! Dragging you to the front like that.”
I scowl and turn away, but still, she persists, scurrying after me.
“If the schoolyard bullying act wasn’t enough, he looked over at you during his lecture about a million times.Holy hell.The tension! I wassweating.”
“If he looked at me, I’m sure it was only to make sure I was in my seat, taking notes and not causing any more disruptions.”
After this, I try to resume my annoyed departure, but she’s hot on my heels. Fortunately, Annette has the good sense not to try to keep up.
“I know you’re not nearly as boy crazy as I am,” Sonya continues. “In fact, have you even dated anyone since that absolute bore Owen? Or was it Oliver? Ugh, who cares. I think you stand a chance with Professor Barclay.”
“Sonya.I have no interest in that.”
“That’s even better! I doubt he’d go for someone desperate to have him. You know he’s taught here for four years and he’s never so much as cracked a joke with a student? He’s completely straightlaced and by the book. No smiles. No flirting.”
“So?”
“So?!It’s just such a waste. Have you ever seen a man so goddamn gorgeous?”
“Who cares about his face? His attitude sucks.” When this doesn’t win the argument for me, I tack on, “Why don’tyoudate him if you think he’s so attractive?”
She points a finger at me and waves it up and down. “If he were interested in me the way he’s interested in you, believe me,I would.”
I roll my eyes and wave goodbye as I walk away, leaving her outside her next class.
Conversation over.