Chapter Four
Maisie
“What time are we meeting for dinner again?” I ask Char, my phone pressed to my ear as I push my way into the Psychology lab.
Out of all the classes I have, this one is my least favorite. I took it because I thought it would be interesting and I needed the credit hours, but as soon as I saw Macallan was also in this class, I wanted to drop it.
The only reason I didn’t was because of how large the class is and the fact that I sit nearly the entire length of the classroom away from him. Well, that and I made a promise to myself this year that I would stop making decisions based around one Macallan Stewart.
Last year, I bent myself backward trying to avoid him. This year, I’ve decided I’m done tiptoeing around him. I don’t have to deal with him. It’s him who has to deal with me.
“Seven. Lyric can’t do any earlier because she has a five o’clock lab.”
“Why did she take such a late class?”
“I think it’s because Kai has classes all evening, so it gives her something to do instead of sitting home alone.”
“She could hang out with me.”
“Yeah, because you have so much free time.” She snorts.
Okay, so she has me there. My schedule is a bit... stretched.
“Yeah. Yeah.” I chuckle. “Okay, I gotta go. My class is getting ready to start. I’ll see you at seven.”
“See you then.”
I end the call, dropping down into my usual seat in the far back corner of the room.
I pull out my laptop and open it on my lap, taking the couple of minutes I have before the professor arrives to check my email.
I don’t pay attention to the movement around me as students file into the room and don’t even bother looking up from my laptop until someone drops down into the seat next to me, which is a rare occurrence given that nearly every other seat in the back row is empty.
I glance to my right, the breath freezing in my lungs when I see teal eyes and the familiar smirk of Macallan Stewart.
“Oh, hell no.” I seethe, shaking my head. “Go sit somewhere else.”
“Why would I do that?” He seems to find amusement in my reaction to him, which only serves to piss me off further.
“Because if you don’t, I can’t be held responsible for what happens to you.”
“Is that a promise?” His eyes damn near sparkle.
“It’s a warning, one you should heed.”
He thinks on that for a moment.
“Actually, I think I’ll stay right here.” He drops his bag on the floor before stretching out his long, muscular legs.
“Fine.” I slam my laptop shut. “If you won’t move...”
“Take your seats, please,” Professor Langdon calls from the front of the room just as I push to a stand.
“You heard the professor.” Macallan grins up at me, and I swear I would whack him in the face with my laptop if I thought I wouldn’t get in serious trouble for doing so in the middle of class.
Professor Langdon scans the room, his gaze settling on me, the only person still standing. He cocks a brow as if to say why are you not sitting.
Cursing under my breath, I slowly lower myself back into my seat.
“That’s what I thought.” He leans in closer, his intoxicating scent filling my nostrils. A heady blend of something warm and earthy, like sandalwood mingled with the faintest hint of fresh citrus.
My breath catches, but I do my best not to show it.
The heat of his proximity and the scent—deep, familiar, and completely him—are as overwhelming as they are infuriating, and I find myself leaning in the opposite direction in hopes of finding reprieve. There is none.
“Do you mind?” I hiss under my breath, gesturing to the very small space that separates us.
“Not at all.” He bats his eyes slowly, showing off his long, thick lashes. I have to resist the urge to reach over and pluck a few hairs out with my fingertips in hopes of making them a little less perfect.
“Move over,” I mouth, not wanting to draw the attention of the professor. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what I should do. Cause a ruckus so he’ll be forced to separate us.
I open my mouth again, prepared to do just that, when his gaze finds me and Macallan in the corner of the room.
“Rose and Stewart, you will be partners.”
I look around, confused... What was he saying before? What did I miss while I was focused on the infuriating man next to me?
“Asher and Thompson. Cander and Roberts. Shelby and Andrews. Smith and Edwards.” He continues calling last names, partnering the class off in groups of two.
Which means...
No. No. No. I almost whimper.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me.” Macallan seems to find way too much pleasure in my discomfort, and I quickly raise my hand.
Professor Langdon continues to read names, not bothering to even acknowledge my raised hand until he finishes, what feels like several minutes later, by which time my arm muscles are screaming.
“Yes, Miss Rose?” He finally glances my way, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his pointed nose. For a younger guy, he gives off the aura of someone much older. An old soul, my mother would call him.
“I need a different partner.” I ignore the various sets of eyes that turn my way as I shake my hand to try and get some feeling back into my fingers.
“And why is that, Miss Rose?”
“I...”
“Go ahead, tell him why.” Macallan urges low enough that only I can hear, his voice so full of humor he might as well be laughing right in my face.
“Yes? Miss Rose?” Professor Langdon taps his foot in impatience.
“I can’t work with him,” I state bluntly, not missing the snickers that filter through the classroom.
Glad my classmates find my misery so entertaining.
I ignore the heat of embarrassment as it slides up my neck before settling on my cheeks.
I’m grateful for my skin tone, which is dark enough that my flush isn’t easily noticed by those not sitting very close to me.
.. But Macallan can no doubt see it, which only makes more blood rush to the surface, deepening my blush.
“And why is that?”
“Because... Because I don’t like him,” I state plainly, scoffing in the direction of a group of guys who howl in laughter—whether because I’ve just told the whole class that I dislike Macallan Stewart or because of my obvious discomfort, I’m not sure.
“That is no concern of mine. In fact, it may make the outcome of your assignment all the more enlightening. You will work with your assigned partner,” he states matter-of-factly, turning his attention back to the class as a whole.
I bite back the retort on my tongue as I slink back into my seat, glancing sideways at Mac to see him clapping silently next to me.
“Valiant effort.” He chuckles.
“If you want to keep those pretty teeth of yours, I advise you wipe that smile off your face,” I threaten, my molars clenched together so hard it’s a wonder they don’t shatter into a million pieces in my mouth.
“Such violence, Miss Rose.” He mocks the way Professor Langdon said my name just moments ago.
If physical violence wasn’t sure to get me suspended from the soccer team, therefore threatening my athletic scholarship, I’d have half a mind to jump on top of him and start pummeling him with my fists.
I’m not typically a violent person, but Mac seems to know exactly what buttons to push to make me borderline murderous.
“Piss off.” I hiss, trying to focus on the teacher instead of the erratic beating of my heart against my ribcage.
He chuckles again but smartly falls silent next to me.
“Six weeks.” I catch the ass end of whatever the professor was saying.
Six weeks... Certainly, he doesn’t mean...
“You will work together to conduct experiments of varying degrees. This will include cognitive tests, memory experiments, perception studies, and behavioral experiments. You will document your findings as you go and present your conclusion at the end of October. You can find the specifics of your assignment on the syllabus, which I updated this morning. I will give you the remainder of class to look over it, ask any questions you may have, and discuss a plan with your partner.”
With that, he turns, rounding his desk before taking a seat.
“You may begin discussions.” He waves a dismissive hand, and voices immediately begin to filter through the room.
“Well, this should be fun,” Macallan says, looking way too comfortable stretched out next to me like a feline cat bathing in the sunlight.
“I think perhaps my idea of fun and yours are slightly different.” I sneer, opening my laptop once more before pulling up the class syllabus.
Reading it over, my stomach turns sour. The things we have to discuss.
The experiments we have to do. The idea of doing any of these with Mac makes my insides wither.
I can barely look at him without wanting to throat punch him.
How in the hell am I going to get through six weeks of this?
My dread is only magnified by the extent of the coursework and just how much this project entails.
Not something that can be done in the course of an hour-long class.
No, this will require evenings and weekends.
I think I’d rather peel off my own fingernails than go through with this.
Though it’s not like I have much of a choice. Given that this project will count for fifty percent of my grade for the semester and I have to maintain a certain GPA for my scholarship, my hands are completely tied.
I tug at the neck of my blouse, the temperature of the room suddenly stifling.
“So what’s the plan?” Macallan is still in the same relaxed position, completely unfazed by my obvious discomfort.
“The plan?” It takes every ounce of willpower I have to keep my expression neutral.
“Yeah, the plan.” He gestures to my open laptop. “Probably best that we figure out a schedule that works for us now so we can plan ahead.”
“You say that like you actually intend to do any of the work.” I hiss.
“Pretty sure it’s a partner assignment. It’s not like you can interview yourself and come up with an unbiased conclusion. Not to mention, how do you plan to do cognitive experiments on yourself?” He cocks a brow, a smirk toying at the corner of his mouth.