Chapter 3
EMMA
Itry to focus on my work and put all thoughts of Professor Hotty out of my mind, I really do…but…
God, it’s impossible.
I only have Oliver’s class twice a week, and in the days between I feel like I’m having withdrawals. All the feelings I had for him before have come flooding back but doubly as strong, and I feel like a teenager with her first crush all over again.
I replay the conversations we’ve had over and over again in my head. The way his eyes flashed, looking me up and down, the way his lips formed the word “carnal,” the way his shirt hugged his muscles, it’s all the stuff of fantasies. And God, the fantasies my brain has come up with…
For someone who’s never even had sex before, my brain has come up with a million dirty fantasies. I imagine his voice growling my name, his hands on me, the scent of his cologne in my nose as he…
“Earth to Emma?”
I jolt, nearly dropping my phone. I’d forgotten it was even in my hand, and my face heats as I make eye contact with Isabel on video call again. I’d gotten so lost in my thoughts I can’t even remember what conversation we were having.
“Sorry,” I rush to say, apologizing to my best friend as my cheeks turn bright red.
“What were you just thinking about?” Isabel says, suspicion written all over her face.
“Uh, nothing,” I lie. Her eyebrows raise and she pins me with a look that tells me she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “Just someone I used to know…he’s a professor here now.”
Isabel’s face lights up. “Oh my God, tell me everything!!” she squeals.
It feels good to tell her about Oliver and about how crazy I feel being so pulled to him. She’s visibly excited the whole time I’m talking, and I’m about to tell her not to get her hopes up when Oliver walks right in front of me, heading in the direction of the library.
My breath catches, and I’m grateful my phone’s hiding my face and I was finished talking because being caught gushing about him might have been enough for me to quit and change my name and move countries.
“Screw the rules,” Isabel encourages from my screen. “You’ve literally never been this obsessed with a man, and it’s about time. So go get him, Em. Seriously.”
I bite my lip, considering her words.
She’s right.
Fuck it, it’s time that I started going after what I want. That’s why I’m even doing my master’s after all, to invest in myself, to turn my life into what I always dreamed of.
And Oliver?
He’s the only man that fits into those dreams.
“Maybe I will,” I say to Isabel, giving her a wink before we say goodbye. I shove my phone in my bag, hoist the heavy tote up on my shoulder, and stand quickly. Not giving myself another second to think about it, I take off in the same direction Oliver just went in.
It’s not like I’m stalking him. I’m not. I just happen to be heading to the library at the same time he’s heading to the library. That’s all.
Yeah, okay, you just keep telling yourself that.
The library is beautiful but it’s not the impressive architecture I’m looking at. Instead of searching the collection for a textbook, I’m searching around the stacks for my professor.
I find him in the far corner at a small table, laptop open in front of him. I approach as casually as I can muster, and catch a small glimpse at the art on his computer screen before he notices me and shuts the browser quickly.
“Emma,” he says, surprise in his voice and eyes.
I smile, shuffling my feet a little. “Oh, hi,” I say, as though I had no idea he was going to be here. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I, a professor who works here, doing in the library on campus?” Oliver repeats, amused.
I blush, internally cursing myself for being so awkward. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and salvage this, but Oliver beats me to it.
“Want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the seat across from him.
I sit immediately, nearly toppling the chair over in my eagerness. Oliver chuckles, but there’s a fondness in his eyes as he does. I blush still, both at my clumsiness and under his attention.
I take my laptop out and open it, forgetting what I had been searching for last time I used it.
“Researching for your first project all ready?” Oliver asks, leaning over to glance at my screen.
I can’t move fast enough to close my search before he sees, and in the split second where Oliver’s eyes widen I genuinely consider finding a book on witchcraft and summoning a black hole I can jump into.
I slam my laptop closed, heart in my throat, and glance at Oliver.
“Research, huh?” he murmurs, still leaning close to me despite there being nothing to look at.
Scratch that. Apparently I am the something to look at because Oliver’s stormy eyes are locked on me, and I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together in response as all the fantasies that have been swirling through my mind come back full force.
Then I remember he’s just seen his own Instagram page and a window with my search for student professor dating policy open on my laptop and I feel my face burn up for the millionth time this week.
“Yup,” I croak out, using the entirety of my concentration to remember how to form words. “Just research. For a project.” Shit, that doesn’t make sense. “Uh, a personal project.” Yeah, personal, all right.
“I see,” Oliver says, his voice teasing as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I have a class to teach, but I’ll see you later. Good luck with your project, Emma.”
I wave goodbye, knowing that the way he said my name will absolutely be featuring in my dreams tonight.
“Have you got Professor Hotty’s class today?” Isabel asks as I stroll in the coffee shop on campus.
“First thing,” I answer with a grin. “So just pray I don’t embarrass myself yet again, yeah?”
“I don’t know, going by what you told me, he doesn’t mind your attention,” Isabel says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “And don’t think I can’t see the extra effort you put in today. Your boobs look great in that top.”
I can’t even deny the fact that I wore this on purpose for that exact reason. I know I shouldn’t be flirting with my professor, but the fact that it’s forbidden only makes it even more tempting.
“I just wish I knew if he even sees me that way,” I say, joining the back of the queue and trying to keep my voice down. I don’t think anybody’s listening in, though—everyone around me is involved in their own conversations or work. “I wish it was allowed, for us to be together, you know?”
“I know, babe, but just because its not technically allowed doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” she says.
I smile, secretly hoping she’s right. “I’ll talk to you soon, I’m nearly at the counter. I’ll update you on my seduce-the-professor plan after class.”
We hang up, and I pull up my social media, unable to resist having a look to see if Oliver’s posted anything new. Not a second later, someone taps me on the shoulder.
I spin, and the smile drops off my face when I see who it is.
“Dean Richards,” I gape, swallowing thickly.
“And who are you?” the Dean asks, a frown on his face as he looks at me. Shit. Why does he look so angry?
“Uh, I’m Emma. Emma McMann.”
“Well, Emma, let’s go have a meeting in my office, shall we?” he says, and it’s clear that it’s an order not a question.
“Oh…um…sure,” I stutter, trailing after him out of the coffee shop. “Is there something wrong?”
“Why don’t we discuss that between the two of us and Professor Page, or what was it you called him? Professor Hotty?” he asks, raising a brow at me in clear disappointment.
Oh my God. The Dean overheard my conversation?! Shit!
“I swear, I can explain—”
But he’s not listening. He leads me to his office, and I sit across from him, panicking that I’m about to be kicked out of college before I can even get the Master’s I’ve worked so hard to come here for.
God, I’m a total idiot.
I sit in fear as the Dean dials someone on the phone, asking them to please come meet us as soon as they can. My stomach flips, and I nervously scratch at the denim of my jeans.
“So, Miss McMann,” Dean Richards begins, folding his hands on his desk. “Are you familiar with the college’s code of conduct?”
Where’s that witch when you need one? And that black hole?
“I am so sorry, Sir,” I blurt out, “I’m aware that the conversation you overheard must have seemed incredibly inappropriate but I—”
“The conversation and the fact that you had Professor Page’s personal social media open on your phone, too,” the Dean reminds me, staring at me with blatant suspicion in his eyes. Someone knocks on the door, and the Dean calls for them to enter.
All the air leaves me as Oliver himself strolls in, confusion on his face when he sees me.
“Emma?” he asks, looking between me and the Dean. “What’s going on?”
I bury my face in my hands for a split second, trying to find some composure.
“Ah, so you’re familiar with each other, then?” the Dean asks, eyes narrowing.
Oliver must realize what’s going on, because he doesn’t sit down in the empty chair beside me and his shoulders square like he’s bracing himself.
“Miss McMann and I attended our undergrad together,” he explains casually, “and she’s a student in my Master’s class this semester.”
“I see,” Dean Richards muses. “And that’s…all there is of your relationship?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Oliver says, sounding genuinely confused.
Oh God, have I got this all wrong? Does he not like me back?
The Dean must buy what he’s saying, because his expression eases slightly and he nods.
“Unfortunately, this morning I overheard an inappropriate conversation between Emma and a friend where you were mentioned,” the Dean says.
“I was just reminding her of our code of conduct. If you feel at all uncomfortable with the behaviour Emma has exhibited—”
“I haven’t noticed anything unusual, or felt uncomfortable at all,” Oliver assures him before he can even finish his sentence.
I swear I catch the corner of his lip curl in a smirk but it’s gone before I can be sure.
“Emma has been a model student in class, I assure you. But I will keep a close eye to be certain.”
The Dean nods, satisfied. “Good. Well, Emma, you are free to continue as you were for now but if this happens again I must pursue disciplinary action. Understood?”
I nod frantically. “Yes, Sir, I’m so sorry again. I promise this won’t happen again.”
He dismisses us, and I practically run out the door. Oliver’s close behind, and the second the heavy door shuts behind us, he bursts into laughter. Horrified, I shush him and speed down the hall, around the corner, with Oliver trying to keep up, putting distance between us and the Dean.
“Why are you laughing?” I hiss, upon slowing, stopping, and turning, gaping at him as he almost collides into me, slightly breathless, and wiping an amused tear from his eye.
“Oh, Emma, what did you do?” he asks, grinning widely. “What inappropriate conversation was I somehow involved in?”
It’s then I register how close he’s standing to me, and how empty this dead end is. My heart races in my chest.
How am I supposed to explain this?
I brace myself, knowing that what happens next will either bring us closer or ensure that my fantasies about Oliver and I remain just that…dreams.