To Professor, With Love(112)

 

“Well, unless you’re a hundred and ten percent certain, then I’m not convinced. What is going on?”

 

Standing steady, I lifted my chin and got my regal on. “What’s going on is that I refuse to be one of those teachers who gives a student a grade she doesn’t deserve.” If I couldn’t get my happily ever after, then neither would Marci Fucking Bennett. “I won’t bow under pressure, or demands, or blackmail. And that’s all you need to know. I appreciate your concern for your friend, and I’m glad Noel has someone who’s loyal and concerned about him. But you really need to go now.”

 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Someone knows, don’t they? Shit. Who is it? It can’t be any of the guys from Forbidden. They’d never do that to Gam. Just tell me who it is. Maybe I can talk to him. Wait, you said she, didn’t you? Who is she?”

 

“You don’t need to get any more involved than you already are.” I touched his arm. “Just keep Noel...away from it. And...and if he does try to do anything radical, please remind him of his brothers and sister. He can’t get himself kicked out of Ellamore if he wants to help his family. His siblings need him.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

 

 

 

 

“The only thing worse than a boy who hates you: a boy that loves you.” - Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

 

 

 

~ASPEN~

 

 

 

The longest night of my life passed in seconds. Thirty thousand of them. And I felt every single one. I didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Just sat on my couch, in the dark, wondering if I was doing the right thing. If I told Noel about Marci Bennett’s demands, he’d try to do something sweet and noble, and he’d probably get himself kicked out of Ellamore because of it.

 

But it had hurt so much to do what I’d done. If he hurt half as much as I did, then this was cruel and unusual punishment. How could I do this to him? How could I make him think I didn’t love him after he told me he loved me first?

 

Because I did love him, I had to repeat to myself every time I began to melt. I loved him so much I wanted him to reach his goals. I wanted him to graduate from college, get drafted into the NFL, and live out his happily ever after. He was going to accomplish every goal he ever set out to reach. I was going to make sure of it.

 

But my head throbbed as I drove to work. And it pounded as I started my first class. I was halfway through teaching Introduction to Literature when the door to the lecture hall burst open, slamming against the wall.

 

A couple girls in the room let out shrieks of terror and I nearly peed my panties as I whirled around to face the threat. I expected to see some terrorist toting a lethal-looking weapon or something equally dramatic. But what stumbled into the room was worse.

 

So. Much. Worse.

 

Clothes rumpled as if he’d slept in them, an unshaven Noel Gamble sent me a huge, sloppy grin as he tripped toward an open seat in the front row.

 

“Sorry I’m late, Professor.” He slurred his words badly, and the scent of a brewery punctuated the air as he passed me to collapse into his chair. “I slept in.” He held up his thumb and forefinger, holding them an inch apart, “jus’ a lil’ bit.”

 

I couldn’t believe my eyes. “You’re drunk,” I spat, appalled, stupefied, and frankly scared out of my mind.

 

Dear God, this was going to end badly. Panic gripped me, but I managed to keep it cool as I glared daggers at the man tearing my chest open in the front row.

 

“Shh.” He smashed his index finger against his own mouth. “I won’t tell if you don’t. It could be our lil’ secret.”

 

As people in the class around him tittered, having no clue what he really meant, I blanched. I could kill him for this.

 

Noel glanced at the girl to his right who was still giggling, and his grin widened, encouraged. “Hey, you’re kind of cute. Have we had sex before?”

 

Damn it. I was going to kill him. Right here and now.

 

When the girl blushed, giggled some more, and told him no, he set his hand over his heart, tsking. “Now, tha’s a damn shame. We should toe’ly hook up.” Then he glanced at me, his gaze mocking. “Tha’ okay with you...Dr. Kavanagh?”

 

That’s it. This was more than I could take. “Mr. Gamble,” I shouted, unable to control my rage. My hand shook as I pointed toward the exit. “Get out of my classroom. Right. Now.”

 

His drunken grin died and glassy eyes narrowed. “But I’m here to learn, Professor. So jus’ go ahead and teach us somethin’ useful. Like...like maybe about that Hemingway guy.” Eyebrows furrowed in thought, he shook his head. “No. Tha’s not right. Hemingway? Hathaway? Hawthorne!” He snapped his fingers, or at least tried to. “Yeah. Hawthorne. Why don’t you talk about his red-letter book some more, or whatever it’s called. I think I could relate to some of those fucked up characters.”