“Good evening, everybody, welcome to Gen Chem Two. Some of you took my Gen Chem One course last semester, but for the benefit of the new faces, I’m Dr. Zoe Lawrence, and I’ll be the main lecturer for this course.”
She isn’t a secretary, she’s the fucking professor!
“Every Thursday we’ll have a ninety-minute lecture and then, on Tuesday, two hours in the lab.”
She keeps talking, but I’m no longer listening.
I am not one to be blindsided, but that was one curveball Ididnotsee coming my way. Petite brunette, Zoe apparently, is all of twenty-two by my estimation, and I’m being wildly generous assuming her looks make her seem younger than she really is.
How does this girl have a Ph.D. in chemistry?
My hand runs over my neck, and I scan the room looking for the easiest way out when I catch her gaze. I see a flash of acceptance pass through her eyes, and for the smallest second, the amusement is gone when she gives me a sad but understanding smile without breaking her lecture pace.
She expected me to leave once I realized what she is.
I mentally slap myself upside the head for her benefit. I had spent the better part of the last ten minutes not so subtly undressing her with my eyes, and now I’m ready to bolt because she’s smarter than average? Something I assume she’s accustomed to judging by her reaction when she understood I was ready to flee. It was a dick move, and I’m a dick for considering it.
So instead of bolting, I sit back comfortably in my chair and pull out my laptop. Her voice falters with a note of surprise, and she clears her throat.
Pulling up Professor Thorne’s latest assignment to work on while I’m stuck in a class I have zero interest in, I peek up at Zoe every once in a while, and see she’s looking at me warily, constantly with a futile attempt to tuck her too-short bangs behind her ear. I smile at her and wink, though I have to be honest—it’s with false confidence.
“Man up, Eric,” I grumble to myself. “She’s just a girl, what’s the worst that can happen?”
But I still have a sneaky feeling that I am in way over my head with this one.
Zoe
Class is over, and I’m taking questions from some of the students, mainly about course requirements and schedule conflicts.
Chiseled and broad is behind me, watching and waiting, his gaze sending a tingle of static electricity up my spine.
The panicked look on his face the second I had introduced myself didn’t escape me, and I was certain he would head for the door, but chiseled and broad stayed, and I caught him glancing my direction every now and again with curiosity and half-grins I didn’t know what to make of. It made me nervous, and I don’t like it, so I keep going through the periodic table repetitively in an attempt to regain composure and control.
Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium…
Finally, I’m free to turn to him. Now that he’s standing in front of me, I can see him more clearly, make out his broad tapered form under his jacket.
Beryllium, Boron, Carbon…
“Dr. Lawrence.” The deep, warm bass of his voice is in stark contrast to the hard lines of his face.
Nitrogen, Oxygen. That’s an important one, Oxygen.
“What can I do for you, Mr...?” I need to tilt my head upward because he’s at least a half-foot taller than me, and though my knees melt a little at his proximity, I keep my posture straight and my smile professional, waiting for his name.
Fluorine, Neon, Sodium, Magnesium…
“Eric Mackenzie, but everybody calls me Mac.” He shrugs then rubs the place where his shoulder and neck meet.
Aluminum, Silicon…
“What can I do for you, Mr. Mackenzie?”
“You can start by calling me Mac.” He gives me another one of those panty-melting grins and my stomach flutters.
Oxygen, Oxygen.
“And agree to join me for a drink.”