“Why would you do that? I enjoyed the class.”
“You and every other female.”
“Are you jealous?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He stands. “Come on. I want a coffee before my next class.”
This is our normal routine. After class, we get a drink, and then he goes into his next class while I study. I’m still kind of annoyed at him, and there was a part of the lesson that made little sense.
“You go ahead. There were some things I didn’t understand.”
“Are you fucking serious right now?”
He asks loud enough that a few people glance our way.
“Yes, I’m serious. Come with me if you don’t believe me.”
He sighs. “Whatever. I’m going. Call me when you’re done. Or don’t. I don’t care.”
He stomps off like a spoiled brat, and I gather my things. I wasn’t lying when I said I had some questions. Math isn’t my strong suit, and I’ve found that if I don’t understand something, then I fall behind quickly. And I really don’t want to retake this class next semester. In the hallway, I make my way toward Professor Westbrook’s office. Unsurprisingly, there’s a long line of people waiting to see Henri. A few of the girls even put on lipstick before entering his office. The line moves slowly, and I use the time to highlight the parts of my notes that I’m unsure about. By the time I reach the door, it’s been over an hour.
Henri calls out, “Office hours are over.”
The three girls in front of me groan but get out of line. I’m torn. If I wait until tomorrow, there’s a chance that I won’t understand the topic. Inhaling, I tap on the door.
“Professor Gastov? I’m sorry to bother, but I really need some help with this.”
He looks up from his computer and gives me a slow smile that does things to me. “Is that so? By all means, mystery lady, please come in.”
I’m flustered as I step into the office. Right away, I get a hint of his cologne. It literally makes my mouth water. Clamping my lips together, I slide into the seat across from his desk and put my notebook on top.
“I marked the parts that didn’t make sense.” My cheeks feel warm. “I know it’s probably something very simple, but I’m terrible at math.”
Leaning forward, he pulls my notebook across the desk and looks over it.
“You’re decimal needs to be moved here.” He points. “And that will solve this one.”
He then launches into an explanation for each item that I have highlighted. Not only that, but he jots down a few practice questions for me to work on. Not once does he make me feel stupid. By the time we work our way through my list, another hour has passed.
“I’m so sorry for holding you up,” I say as I gather my notebook and shove it into my bag. “I’m sure you have another class to get ready for.”
He smiles. “No need to apologize.”
God, is it hot in here or is it just me?
“Dove,” I blurt out.
“Pardon?”
“You asked my name earlier. It’s Dove. Dove Potts.”
“Nice to meet you, Dove.”
I laugh nervously. “Nice to meet you, too, Professor.”
“Henri.” He eyes me. “Call me Henri, Dove.”
I’m like one smile away from melting onto the floor, so I back up toward the door.