To Professor, With Love(36)

 

I sighed and flicked some hair out of my eyes impatiently. “Let’s see. I graduated high school at fifteen, earned my bachelor’s degree at eighteen, my masters at twenty, and I received my doctorate at the top of my class last year. Add that up, and that makes me...what do you know, twenty-three.”

 

Shaking his head slowly back and forth, he gawked. “Well, shit. Graduated high school at fifteen? Fuck, I should’ve known you were one of those freaky girl geniuses.” Then he hissed a derisive snort.

 

“I’m also thirsty.” I leaned forward and yanked my driver’s license from his hand. “How about that drink now?”

 

“Sure, Professor.” His voice was contemptuous as he turned away and sauntered off. I glared after him, upset to realize everything I thought we’d shared yesterday must’ve been nothing but a figment of my imagination. And yet I wasn’t quite upset enough not to ogle his tight ass in those blue jeans.

 

Seriously. Wow.

 

Forcing myself to look away, I opened my purse and pretended to dig around, though I’d already had my money ready to pay before I’d even seen who was behind the counter.

 

“Here.” His voice was none too polite as he clunked an open bottle on the counter before me.

 

“Thank you.” I gave a regal nod and took a tentative sip.

 

He stayed in front of me after I paid, watching me drink. His stance brooded as if he couldn’t wait for me to leave, but his eyes...oh God, his eyes.

 

Growing warm under his direct stare, I motioned around us, hoping to say something that would at least get him to look away, because his captivated attention on me was making the insides of my thighs tingle. A slow burn spread from the pit of my stomach and out to the tips of my toes. “I didn’t realize you worked here.”

 

“Huh.” His lips twisted with scorn even as his eyes continued to devour me. “You mean, there was one thing I forgot to mention in my paper?”

 

I smiled despite his glare. “Apparently. Though actually, you did say you worked at a bar to support your siblings. You just didn’t name which one.”

 

“Right.” He nodded slowly, and his gaze followed my every move as I took another sip. While he tracked the bottle in my hand to my mouth, my stomach tangled into knots. I gulped nervously, and I swear his stare tried to follow the liquid down my throat. What was even more discerning, his attention returned to my lips when I lowered the bottle. If his eyes had been a tongue, he would’ve just licked me from my mouth and down my chin, over my throat to just between my breasts...and back up again.

 

“I can’t freaking believe you’re only two years older than me.”

 

The comment surprised me so much I spilled a little beer down my chin on my next sip. Moving quickly to wipe it away with the back of my hand, though he’d seen the entire thing, I cleared my throat. “Why? How old do I look?”

 

His lips tipped up in amusement. “Nineteen. But that’s not the point.”

 

“Then what is the point?” I glanced away, beyond antsy to be stuck under his direct perusal.

 

Leaning in close, he lowered his voice. “You act more like you’re fifty in class.”

 

I turned to study him. Periwinkle eyes gleaming with an emotion I couldn’t name, he just stared back, the challenge in his gaze commanding me to return fire and come up with some kind of retort.

 

“Wow,” I said, internally cringing because I could detect a catch in my voice when I’d tried so hard to make my tone sound as dry and unimpressed as his had. “You must charm all the ladies with that kind of flattery.”

 

He just chuckled. “Bet I get laid more than you do.” And now even his words dared me to duel with him.

 

With a roll of my eyes, I snorted and pulled my shoulders back, putting more space between us. “I wouldn’t say that’s anything to brag about.”

 

I couldn’t believe I’d answered him that way. I should’ve gotten affronted and called him out for being out-of-line with such an unprofessional comment to his teacher. In fact, I should still call him on it now. Yes. Yes, I think I would.

 

But as soon as I opened my mouth, another customer called him away. He continued to hold my gaze as he held up a hand to the other person. Then he smiled slightly at me. After he skimmed a quick gaze down my body, he turned and left to help someone else, leaving me bereft and heated in all the wrong places.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

 

 

 

 

“You know," Clary said, "most psychologists agree that hostility is really just sublimated sexual attraction.” - Cassandra Clare, City of Bones