For a moment he didn’t say anything, only stared at her. Then he rose to his feet in a graceful, liquid movement, beginning to pack away the small notebook computer he’d had on the desk in front of him. “Yes,” he said at length, “I do.” His voice was deep, the sound as liquid as his movements had been. And lightly accented. French, from the slight lilt.
Interesting…
Eleanor shifted, easing back from the lectern. “About the lecture?”
“It was…fascinating.” He put the notebook into a black backpack and slung the backpack over one shoulder. She found herself staring at his hand where it gripped the strap, the smooth mocha skin inked with tattoos. Black bars and dots ran down each digit, the dots where his knuckles were, drawing attention to the length of his fingers. On the back of his hand the bars and dots seemed to imitate the bones beneath. How odd. Did they mean anything? She’d never seen anything like them before. Around his wrist he wore a bracelet that she thought at first looked like one of those friendship bracelets she’d seen some people wear. But it wasn’t. It seemed to be in fact a lot of different fabric strips all bound together like a cuff. Even odder.
“And?” She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from him.
He straightened, skirting around the desk and coming toward her.
It took her a moment to realize that her muscles had tensed up. Kind of understandable since they were alone in the lecture theatre, and though he was lean, he was tall, with an air of latent power about him. As if he had a purpose and was going to achieve it, no matter what.
It wasn’t threatening, but it wasn’t entirely comfortable either.
Eleanor took a silent breath. Calm down. He’s a fucking student. Yes, an attractive student but a student nonetheless.
Before he came too close, he stopped all of a sudden, studying her. Then his eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid of me?”
She blinked at the abruptness of the question. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You tensed up as I approached.”
How strange that he’d noticed. Not to mention discomforting. “No, of course I’m not afraid.” Folding her arms, she met his gaze. “You said you wanted to talk to me. About what exactly?”
“You never look at me.”
She blinked again, taken aback. “Pardon?”
“At the end of every lecture, you look at everyone else. But not me. Why?”
There was an odd glitter in his eyes. The one she’d seen before, as if he were angry with her.
Which was weird. Because she was sure she hadn’t done anything to him. Shit, she didn’t even know him.
“Do I?” she said carefully. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t noticed.”
“Bullshit. You’re doing it on purpose.”
Eleanor stared at him. God, he was intense. She found it vaguely threatening in some way and yet, at the same time, thrilling as well. “Why would I do that?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”
Well, shit, she didn’t know why either.
Yes, you do.
She shifted on her feet, not wanting to acknowledge the thought. “I could ask you the same kind of question,” she said instead. “You’ve been in this class for the past four weeks and you always sit in the same place. And you always stare at me.”
“I’m looking at you because you’re the lecturer, of course.” He paused. “Would you like me to look somewhere else?”
It wasn’t quite the answer she wanted, though she wasn’t sure exactly what answer she did want. “No, that’s where you’re supposed to be looking.” She picked up her laptop from the lectern and shut it. Now that he was closer, she’d noticed he seemed to be a little older than most of her fresh-out-of-school students, though not by much. Which didn’t make her feelings any less wrong, of course.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Why don’t I look at you? I look at the people I think aren’t paying attention. And you seem to always be paying attention.” It was a lie and not a very good one, but, hell, she wasn’t going to admit the truth. She couldn’t even admit the truth to herself. “You’re wrong anyway,” she added. “I looked at you today.”
He didn’t reply, studying her silently for a long minute, his gaze measuring. Assessing. And so sharp she felt like she was under some kind of microscope.
It wasn’t a good feeling.
She smiled—the cool professor smile, the one she normally used with students. “And is there anything else I can help you with? Or is that it?”
“Seeing as you answered my question, no, not so far.”