Professor Keaton set his bag on his chair, removed his laptop, and then threw the bag on the floor. A handful of pens scattered across the floor thanks to the undone zipper. He ignored them.
That was unsettling.
My glimmer of amusement at the thought that I was partially to blame for his foul mood petered out. In its place came apprehension.
“Open your textbooks. Turn to page two hundred and two. Read the chapter. Write an essay of at least two thousand words on your thoughts. I don’t want to hear a single word until you’re outside this classroom.” He slammed his hands on the desk as numerous groans and whispers of, “Fuck,” rippled through my peers.
Electric-blue eyes surveyed us one by one—except for me. Me, he skipped right over.
If I’d had gum in my mouth, I would have popped a bubble in defiance.
“Are we clear?” Professor Keaton asked.
“Yes, sir,” various students around the mood murmured.
The one thing I’d forgotten? A pissed-off professor was an unreasonable professor.
I pulled my laptop and my textbook out of my bag and arranged them on my desk. Jake glanced at me a few times then typed furiously. His message appeared the second my browser loaded my Facebook page.
I’d already read the chapter.
Jake: Did you get your letter yet?
Me: Nope.
Jake: Why the hell not?
Me: Because he’s an ass.
Jake: Maybe don’t try and get it today.
Me: You think?
I typed my e-mail URL into the search bar as my eyes scanned the textbook’s pages. Yadda, yadda, yadda… This was going to be simple. I shrugged as I focused back on the screen and the highlighted message at the top of my inbox, ignoring the Zulily offers. I’d check the boots out later.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Reminder
Darcy,
Expressing my disappointment at your bullshit yesterday.
J
I looked down to hide my grin. That was the politest way I’d ever been called a bitch in my life.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Official notices preferred.
#p#分页标题#e#
Dear Professor,
Really? You look so happy. Look at you over there, grinning and shit. You look like you should be baking cookies with a little, pink, polka-dot apron. It’d bring out your eyes.
Xoxo, Darcy
Well, it looked like my sassy pants were on today. Ironically, given my lack of leg coverage.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Don’t you have work to do?
Darcy,
Perhaps you should focus on maintaining your grade instead of imagining me as some kind of elf. And for the record: pink is not a color I favor. Unless it is on you, of course.
J
And I just so happened to be wearing pink panties.
Get a load of that for coincidence.
To:
[email protected]
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Two thousand words, to be precise.
Dear Professor,
Interesting. Would you also enjoy pink on your bedroom floor?
Xoxo, Darcy
P.s: I’m wearing pink panties.
P.p.s: I’m logging off.
I fought my grin as I hit the red X in the corner and the window disappeared. Laughter bubbled in my belly, but I somehow managed to keep it in. Mostly because the tone of the room had changed again—but this time, I was the only one who could feel it. I was sure.
I glanced up over the top of my screen. Instantly, I found his gaze. His bright, penetrating, furious gaze. I squirmed beneath its power as a shiver cascaded down my spine. I fought it, but I failed, and my whole body trembled in one short, sharp shock. His lips twitched the tiniest bit, and I knew he’d caught it.
Crap.
He wasn’t supposed to, but of course he did. He didn’t miss anything.
I dropped my gaze back to my laptop and the blank word document sitting there. I typed the title of the essay and my name before my fingers paused. It was like my brain had short-circuited, and I knew exactly what the reason for it was.
He was still staring at me. He was still invading my personal space with one look. I had no idea what it was about him—how he could pack so much into it. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and those emotions were so distinct as they rushed through my veins, making sure to touch every part of my body.
And this was it… The game. Moving the playing pieces… Trying to catch the other out.
I straightened my spine and flexed my fingers. Life returned back to them, and I zoned out of everything else as I focused entirely on the screen in front of me and the task at hand. I couldn’t entirely block out his gaze, but after a few minutes, the intense feeling dimmed. A little of the tension oozed out of my body as his attention was diverted elsewhere, and I could finally write without feeling like I was being mentally bent over a desk and fucked.