Billionaire Flawed 2(187)

“You don’t think you’ve been waiting long enough?”

“Look who’s talking,” he replied while gesturing toward the field where the players continued to run plays. I wondered if John had ever made been used to make someone else jealous. He’s the right build for it, that’s for sure. I know I’d be jealous if I saw another girl with him.

“Good things come to those who wait?” I said with a shrug.

Craig laughed, and I let go of the stress I’d been carrying. It was nice having someone with whom I could joke around and be myself.

3.

It was almost a week before my blunder settled into the recesses of memory. I managed to realize how silly it was to dwell over an odd compliment.

My brain was kept busy by the extra work I was given; being a teacher’s aide and mid-terms coming up fast, I found myself spending more time in his back office than around campus. He was probably my favorite teacher, which is why I decided to become his aide in the first place. He welcomed my help, as I had already passed his first two courses over my last year of college.

“Hey Tess, can you finish grading this stack in the classroom? I need to meet with a student in the office and need privacy,” he said.

I sighed, as I had just become comfortable where I found myself nestled. But, nonetheless, I scooped up the stack of papers and trudged out to the adjoined classroom.

A few minutes went by, and I overheard his door open and slam shut. I might have been a bit too curious about what was going on, as he inviting students into his office was quite rare. He barely let me in half the time, so I couldn’t abate my need to understand why he’d let in someone else.

“John, you know we talked about this in class,” he started.

“Professor, I’m trying. But, the lessons you’re giving just aren’t making any sense. I’ve been studying really hard,” John said.

I stifled a surprised gasp; it was the same John from the weekend. I tried to peek through the smoked glass window that lead into the classroom, but it left everything a blur. So, I just pressed my ear against the door and listened.

“You know what I told your coach. If you don’t get your grade up by this mid-term, you’re going to be benched until further notice.”

“You can’t do that, this team is my life. If I’m benched, how will I be able to show off to the scouts? Just give me a passing grade,” John pleaded.

“I can’t do that, son. You need to understand that college is for education, not partying. Yes, I know what you and your friends do on the weekend. I doubt that between all the parties you’ve spent maybe twenty minutes studying. Just buckle down, do the work and you won’t have to worry about it,” replied the professor.

“I tried; this stuff just makes no sense. Can you give me some private lessons?”

“John, I’m here to teach a class. If you need a tutor, there are plenty out there.”

“Are you sure you can’t just give me a pass for this season at least? I could make it up next semester,” John asked again.

“I won’t give passes to students. If you want the grade, you’ll have to earn it.”

It was silent in the office. I could no longer help myself, I was too curious. I crept out of the classroom through the student entrance which led to a massive corridor.

The office door was still fogged glass, and difficult to see through, but it was much easier to make out what was happening. I heard a chair scooch across the floor and footsteps coming my way.

I quickly ducked behind the door as it almost swung open on top of me. John strode confidently out, without noticing me.

“Most of the tutors are in the student resources building. Or at least you’ll have the best luck there. I have confidence in your intelligence, you just have to apply yourself more responsibly,” the professor said.

John just kept walking. When the professor closed his door, I saw this as my chance to speak up. If he needed a tutor, there was nobody better than me.

“John?” I said.

He looked around a second before finding me standing behind him in the hallway.

“Hey,” he replied.

“Fancy meeting you here, what brings you to this side of the campus?” I said, trying not to let him know that I was listening in.

“I take classes here. I had a meeting with the professor,” he said, pointing to the office he just left.

“What about?” I asked.

“He threatened to bench me if I didn’t get my grades up. Why can’t he just give me a pass on this one? I work hard,” he said.

“I’ve known the professor for a year or so now, he’s got a lot of integrity.”