He quickly gathered the threads of information the class had given and tried to make a rational theory. “It wasn’t justice, but was it deserved? Probably. See, the problem is women are very different than men. They sink to a level of jealousy and cattiness I think is well described in this story.”
Satisfaction unfurled. That was a solid answer. She couldn’t torture him over his opinion.
Except the strangest expression came over her face.
Her gaze narrowed. Her lips tightened. A tightly contained energy swarmed around her like a nest of bees, humming madly before the attack. In that moment, he realized he had done something very wrong.
“I see. So you believe men don’t sink to basic levels of human emotion like women?”
He swallowed. “Kind of. Men are more physical, but they see things simpler. Let’s be real here. Two men would never meet in a cafe to talk endlessly for an hour before getting to the point. Women are exhausting. One man would punch the other one, they’d fight it out, and then go get a beer.”
The class laughed. Some of the guys nodded in agreement and hooted their approval. Connor began to warm up to the subject. “And another thing. Society is always on the men about cheating, but if you read these pieces you keep assigning us, you’ll see there was a lot of infidelity by women. They just like to intellectualize and rationalize the act to death to make it better for them to sleep at night.”
Ella Blake never wavered. Pure ice dripped from her voice when she deigned to speak. “Interesting. It seems because Mr. Slade is the male, he is easily forgiven for his infidelity, though he has cheated also. Thank you for proving my point, Mr. Dunkle. Next time, please make sure you actually read the story and not use your classmates’ effort to spin your own inane opinion. Class dismissed.”
She marched back to her desk.
Connor’s head felt as if it had gone a few rounds with the heavyweight champion. Was she kidding? How did she know he didn’t read it? And who the hell was she to make fun of his opinion? If he had read the story, didn’t he have the right to his own viewpoint?
Some of the guys came to clap him on the shoulder as they exited the classroom. He spent some time gathering his papers and cooling down his temper. He needed his grade fixed or he’d be in some serious trouble by the midterm. It was time to have a bit of a heart-to-heart and pour on the charm. Again.
He tried not to grind his teeth as he approached. She pretended not to see him, but Connor knew she sensed his presence and was deliberately provoking him. An odd anticipation steadily built. He’d misjudged her. She wasn’t as dull as he’d originally thought. He rarely dealt with women who challenged him, but he figured it was the teacher/student thing that had him intrigued now.
“Professor Blake?”
She looked up and damned if she didn’t give him an almost satisfied grin. “Yes?”
“I need to talk to you about my grade. The paper. I need some help.”
“I agree, Mr. Dunkle. Perhaps a tutor?”
Instead of sitting down, she grabbed her purse and seemed to be rushing out. He made sure to step right in front of her, blocking her exit. He gritted his teeth. “I don’t need a tutor. I need to know what you’re looking for in my papers so I can start passing this class.”
“Ah, if you check your syllabus, you’ll see I’m looking for creativity, original thought, and specified examples and content backed up from the text.”
“I’m trying! Let’s be honest for a moment. You don’t like my opinions so you’re punishing me. You want me to advocate these inane texts by using a lot of fancy words and lingo just so I can agree that women were mentally and emotionally tortured underneath the societal restrictions where men ruled. How is that fair?”
She tilted her head, seemingly considering her words. “Now that’s an argument. Too bad there’s not more of that in your papers. I have to go. I’m late for a meeting.”
She strode out of the classroom, big skirt swishing, hair perfectly contained in the single, tight space of her bun. Connor took off after her, refusing to be swept aside. Not this time. “I did put that in my paper but you gave me an F.”
She never broke stride, weaving in and out of the hallways amidst groups of students. “No, you didn’t. You said it was about a moth, written from the point of view of a woman frustrated with her life so she decided to spend her extra time watching an insect die. You insinuated she craved a man in her life and therefore, her lack of one made her unhappy. There was no depth. Did you even listen to my lecture in class about the meaning of the essay?”