Degraded Terms (Immoral Starts)
Chapter 1
Ava
“No. When I registered, I wasn’t wait-listed,” I explain, my fingers gripping the binder so hard that the plastic is cutting into my skin.
My guidance counselor pushes her glasses up her nose and turns back to the screen. Her lips thin as she types, and then she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, Ava. The course is full and the only availability is in Professor Rockford’s. It’s at the same time, so it would still fit into your schedule.”
Fear curls in my stomach at the thought of facing Professor Rockford again. He’s one of the most hated professors on campus because it’s nearly impossible to get an ‘A’ in his class. He’s ruined more than one student’s entire GPA.
It’s been over a year since I last encountered him, and I had hoped to never see him again.
“I failed his class last year. That’s why I need to be in Professor Sumner’s class, so I can ensure my new grade replaces it. It’s required for me to graduate.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I understand, and I can keep you on the waitlist for now. Perhaps you can speak to Professor Rockford and ask for additional resources to help excel at his course.”
I want to laugh at her silly suggestion. Rockford is notorious for not offering any office hours or extra credit. It’s why I specifically signed up for the only other professor available for the accounting class.
There isn’t a single part of me that wants to be anywhere near him again. His piercing blue eyes always felt like they were peeling every layer off me and staring directly into my soul. And whatever he found…he deemed me unworthy.
Shuddering, I swallow and bounce my knee. Half of this is my fault for putting this course off till my last semester. “Is there anything else I can do? Like a different course that will fit the degree requirements? I really don’t want to take him again.”
She sighs and we sit in silence as she turns back to her computer, double-checking my degree requirements.
“There is, but without repeating the course to replace the previous grade, your overall GPA is…not great.”
What she means is that I’d graduate, but without any extra cords around my neck.
Then she frowns, pushing her sliding glasses up again. “Ava. Did something happen last year that made you uncomfortable in his class?”
My eyes widen, stunned by the question, as if Rockford would ever be interested in me like that. “He’s a hardass. No one can pass his class and I have to pass.”
She relaxes, nodding. “Yes, but that can work in your favor. A lot of firms see passing his class as a sign of your determination and retention of knowledge.”
“I would rather have a decent GPA, instead of some imaginary badge of worth,” I say, slumping back into my chair and squeezing my eyes shut.
Sometimes I regret going to college. Each semester proposes some kind of problem that seems to set me back rather than prepare me for my supposed future.
My heart is hammering away, the blood pumping in my ears in a loud rush as I stare at the door. My guidance counselor recommended I reach out to him before the start of class tomorrow.
Now that I’m back at his lecture hall, the familiar dread claws up my throat and I’m tempted to drop out, forget about my degree altogether rather than deal with this man.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I blow out a breath. I can handle it; it's only twelve weeks, and then I’m free. One man isn’t worth giving up years of hard work.
I steel my shoulders and knock, opening the door slowly and filling the frame.
His blue eyes lift to mine and the piercing stare stabs me right in the chest like it did last year. I had forgotten how handsome he is. My internal ire at failing me had erased all attraction to him.
But now I’m faced with his beauty again. It’s sickening how his dirty blonde hair seems to always be at the perfect length and curls to fall right above his eyes.
It’s criminal that his dark slacks and long-sleeved button-down shirts seem to be tailored to fit his body, to show off his broad shoulders, muscular arms, and toned thighs.
“Ava Williams. To what do I owe the displeasure of seeing my worst student?”
His gravelly voice rakes over me. You would think someone who is so pretty and perfect would not be so nasty.
My mouth drops open, mortified and furious at his statement. “Are you allowed to say that to me?”
A singular eyebrow raises as he leans back in his chair, flexing his biceps as his arms cross his chest.
“It’s just unprofessional,” I try to explain, my outrage draining and my courage with it.
There’s no indication he cares or even heard what I said. “Is there a reason you’re bothering me, Miss Williams?”
I press the nail of my middle finger into my thumb, the subtle pain centering me as I nod once.
Clearing my throat, I glance around the room before returning to his impatient glare.
“I—uh. I have to take your class again.”
A brief twitch in the corner of his left eye is the only reaction I get, so I continue on.
“I know I didn’t do well last year?—”
“Do well? You are the lowest graded student I’ve ever had.” His sharp tone cuts through me and I briefly shut my eyes.
“Please, I have to pass this class. I need it to graduate, and the other course is full. I have to take this one and I’m asking you to help me.” My voice cracks at the end, making my pleading sound even more pathetic.
Professor Rockford lifts his foot, resting his ankle on his knee as he watches me, the blank expression dashing my hopes.
When we stare at each other in silence for a moment, I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with the thick tension in the room.
“So if you have an extra credit or maybe a tutor?—”
“How badly do you want it?” He cocks his head to the side.
“What?”
“What exactly are you willing to do to pass?”
A chill courses through my bones at the underlying meaning of his question that I’m not sure I want to address.
But the truth of the matter is…I will do a lot.
“Anything,” I mutter.
He lets out a mocking laugh. “That’s a dangerous word. I advise you to take it back, Miss Williams.”
Licking my dry lips, I straighten my shoulders and meet his eyes again.
“I’m willing to do anything to pass.”