I never thought one professor could mess with my entire schooling experience. Turns out I was really freaking wrong. I’m almost positive I didn’t deserve the F, but I have no idea how to prove it. How to prove that he’s purposely tanking my grades.
I shake my head and try to focus as he deep dives into dissociative amnesia and fugue states, but I’m too emotional. It’s ridiculous. I’ve always been able to regulate myself pretty well, I’ve always been really self-aware of my issues and triggers, but something about this man pushes buttons I didn’t know I had.
To say it's frustrating me might be the biggest understatement of the year. Almost as big an understatement as saying Travis isn’t a fan of mine.
I snort a laugh at my own ridiculousness and smother my mouth, trying to play it off as a cough, because the last thing I need is more flack from Crawford. He sneers at me from the front of the room, but continues as if I didn’t just laugh mid-lecture.
I’m going to take the win, no matter how small. Especially when I’m already going to have to speak to him after class about this F. I can’t afford an F. I have too much to do to retake credits, and there is no way in hell I’m retaking his class.
When class ends, I shut off the recording on my phone, making a mental note of the new paper we have to write before next week—goodbye social life—and wait for the class to empty.
“You coming?” Connor asks, and I shake my head.
“I need to speak to Crawford,” I tell him, and he frowns.
“You want me to wait?”
I smile at him as I finish saving the recording on my phone. “I’m good. You’re off to dinner with Penn, right? Don’t keep her waiting on my behalf.”
“Yeah, it’s all good, Berkley, I’ve got my girl covered,” Sawyer interjects from behind me, and I roll my eyes.
Connor glares at Sawyer before looking back to me. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I swear. Go, have fun. Make her bring me home a burrito.”
He smiles at me and runs a hand through his hair. “Chicken with extra mushrooms and sour cream, I remember.”
He gives me a weird one-armed hug before darting from the room. These people really need to learn I am not a hugger.
“You can go too,” I tell Sawyer as the last few stragglers leave the room.
“Oh no, I’m not leaving you alone with him again.”
I quirk a brow at him. “Firstly, it wasn’t a request. Secondly, we’re going to unpack your presence here and your reluctance to leave me alone tonight.”
“So you’re coming to the house tonight, then?” he asks with a grin, and I drop my chin to my chest.
This freaking guy.
“If you’re both finished dawdling, I have places to be,” Crawford snaps from his desk at the front of the room.
“You can wait for me outside if you insist,” I say to Sawyer, who reluctantly agrees and heads out of the lecture hall.
I lift my head and roll back my shoulders before making my way down to Crawford. “Actually, Professor, I wanted to speak to you about my grade.”
“What about it?”
“It’s unreasonable. There is no way I deserved that fail.”
He raises his eyebrows at me as he leans back in his chair and folds his arms. “Is that so? You think you know my class better than I do, Miss Moore?”
“Of course not,” I snark. “But I do know that I worked with Connor on it, and he got an A.”
“His work was obviously more up to par than your substandard efforts.”
I take a deep breath and try to remain calm. “My efforts were far higher than substandard. I don’t understand what issue it is you have with me, but if you refuse to take another look at it, I’m going to have to speak to the head of the department about someone else assessing my work and grade.”
Total bullshit. I don’t even know if that's a thing, but the reddening of his cheeks tells me that I must’ve hit my mark.