I close out of his stream… and slam my laptop shut. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and I force my thighs to unclench, eyes wide as I stare into my empty closet.
Forget my apartment being haunted. Now I’m going to have to relive this moment every day for the rest of my life and wonder what would have happened if I had typed out the wordsI’m sorrylike my fingers had itched to do and hit send.
Chapter 2
Ilet out a sigh as I walk down the outdoor hallway that connects the campus center to the liberal arts building, absently chewing my lower lip. By now I’ve been doing it so long that my mouth is sensitive and my bottom lip feels like it might be starting to swell, just a little. Almost forcibly, I remove my teeth from it and run my tongue along my lips, thinking to myself as I walk.
I was supposed to have photography with Juniper. That had been the plan when my roommate and best friend had coerced me into taking the class with her, but now that she’s dropped out because of a last second conflict in her schedule, I’m the only one here.
And from what I know about our professor, who’s a famous photographer in his own right and sometimes works with the local news, I really could’ve used her help here. He’s supposed to be an absolute hardass; a jerk, with no consideration for things that happen outside of his class. I’ve heard it’s impossible to do well, unless you spend your entire life working toward his expectations, and that’s not something I’m interested in doing.
I don’t want tobea photographer after all. I’m just here because I needed an elective and, when Juniper would’ve beenhere too, it probably would’ve been fun. But with all the other art electives full and me not wanting to overbook myself on credits next semester, this is my only choice.
Not that I’m afraid of a strict professor, but Professor Solomon, along with having an intimidating name, has the reputation of being pretty unpleasant to deal with most of the time.
Silently, I walk into the classroom, noting that the desks are lined up like a ‘U’ instead of sitting in lines. A soft breath of disdain leaves me, and I wish I could throttle Juniper. Or at least send her a stern glare. This is yet another reason I didn’t want to be in here alone. I have two options, it seems to me. Option one is that I take one of the corners of the U, and if I do that, then I’m as close as possible to Professor Solomon’s desk or where he’ll probably stand to teach.
If I don’t, then I’m going to be trapped between two people I may not know. So far I haven’t heard about any of the acquaintances I have in my arts major taking this class, and with a professor that has a reputation like his, why would they?
So I hesitate, only to scoot to one side as two girls walk in and rush to the tip of the U closest to the desk, like they’re dying to be as close as possible to our professor. Have they had him before? Or maybe they’re really interested in what he has to teach?
All I know about him are the rumors I’ve heard.
After another moment of hesitation and three more students walking in to sit at different parts of the U, I realize that class is about to start. Even though Professor Solomon hasn’t shown up yet, I lunge forward and take the seat at the other tip of the U, closest to the door. It’s not because I want to sit near him, or that I want to escape.
Well, okay, it might be that one.
But because I don’t want him to come in and see me justhovering. He might think I need help. Or that I’m an idiot. I’d atleast like to get a jumpstart on the semester before having one of my professors hate me.
Laughter from the hallway catches my attention and I turn slightly, not enough to see the door, and certainly not enough to see the person breeze in who dumps his things on the table beside me. I flinch, surprised, and look up into the friendly face of a guy who might be a few years older than me. Not that I’m surprised by that, exactly. Wickett offers multiple masters programs, and sometimes those students audit lower level classes, according to Juniper. Her brother had done that when a class had come around he was interested in.
That, or I’m just really bad at guessing ages.
The guy smiles broadly, sitting down hard in his seat with a sigh while he does. “Want to trade seats?” he asks, catching me off guard. “I don’t mind. He’s yelled at me before.”
“…What?” I ask, barely listening to the low buzz of conversation outside the door.
“Oh, too late I guess. Next time?”
I don’t get the chance to ask him to clarify or figure out what in the world is going on. The doorslamsshut, and I clench my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack.
“Color me surprised,” a low, disappointed voice sighs, and I have the distinct feeling I’m being glared at. “I thought you’d be the one looking for an escape, Oliver.”
Who the hell is Oliver?
I don’t turn around. I don’t want to look afraid, or like I’ve done something wrong. But embarrassment rises in my chest as I look down at the smooth fake wood of the table under me and let out a long, low breath.
I hate this class already.
“She was just trying to be nice to me,” the guy beside me chuckles. “She heard about how rude you are to me every semester and thought that I deserve a break.”
“Oh yeah?” My professor prowls around the side of the tables, not even looking at me. Finally, I have a chance to scrutinize him, my heart still pounding from his words.
He’s younger than I thought he’d be. His hair is brown, though its shade is somewhere between my light, almost blonde hair and Oliver’s dark auburn beside me. He’s tall, probably six feet, though to my five-foot-five, a lot of people are consideredtall.
Unlike some of my more formal professors, he’s dressed in snug jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and dress shoes. Frankly, he looks like he’s just stepped out of some magazine. Especially when he leans against his desk, rolls up his sleeves, and takes off his sunglasses so he can look all of us over. All in all, the class numbers maybe thirteen, and I endeavor to make thattwelveby the end of the week.
I don’t need to be in a class where the professor is a dick just because I sat near the door.