Chapter 15
Scarlett
September
Ah, the clinical wing of Hamilton Medical College.
It’s ridiculous how familiar the campus feels.
Like the life I paused a year ago, I flipped to the exact page for me to pick back up on.
The chatter of students talking, bodies shuffling, the zip and unzipping of backpacks, and people fighting over outlets to charge their laptops for five minutes. It’s chaotic, but comforting.
Through a set of double doors is the daunting lecture hall for Pharmacology. I enter from the mezzanine level and keep my head down. Fellow students here might have seen me with my former class and know that I should be a fourth year.
Who am I kidding? We’re all zombies, and are lucky we don’t get hit by cars when we leave here.
I slide into a row halfway down, still bleary from a night of little sleep thanks to the anxiety of being back in a place that almost ruined me.
But I’m here, and I’m ready for it to take its best shot at me.
Keeping to an aisle seat, my fingers wrap around my Stanley cup that I almost considered spiking with vodka. Just to calm down.
The massive, tiered room quickly fills up with students who didn’t screw up their lives. People who didn’t fall for a man who talked them out of becoming a doctor.
A girl two seats over looks at me, squinting. “Were you in Dr. Lin’s course last year?”
I force a smile. “Not me. I took a year off.”
She nods politely and starts scrolling on her phone.
The rest of the class streams in. I estimate close to seventy.
The clock shows it’s two minutes past 10 a.m. It’s not like a professor to be late.
If, for some reason, this class is canceled, I’m screwed.
This was the only Pharmacology offered, and I need it to catch up.
The schedule was prepared for me, and I don’t even know who’s teaching it.
The place goes silent, and all the chatter dims as the door opens from the base level with the podium, professor’s desk, and video equipment.
Then he walks in.
My stomach drops through the floor.
“No,” I whisper. “No, no, no—”
The taxi. The rain. The hotel room.
It’s Cormac.
His hands on me. His kiss. His… I flush, remembering so much more.
When I saw him leaving my father’s office that morning, I assumed he’d be replacing his brother to teach a freshman class.
Damn it!
I lower my head to hide behind the guy with a big head in front of me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I grab a baseball cap and sunglasses out of my backpack and slip them on to hide.
Cormac stands in the front of the classroom in tight dark jeans, a navy blazer with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms just enough to show the ink.
A black button-down shirt is pulled tight over his sculpted chest, and his blond hair is slightly mussed.
With dark golden stubble shadows on his jaw, sharp and dangerous, he is all hot professor.
The room goes oddly silent, and the girl next to me gasps a moan.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice deep, smooth, and precise. “My name is Dr. Cormac O’Rourke. I’ll be teaching Pharmacology and Clinical Therapeutics for this term.”
Oh shit.
My heart is beating so hard it hurts. Dr. Cormac O’Rourke. His full name lands hot and heavy in my chest. But it feels intimate, personal. Wrong.
Why is he here?
He sets a folder on the podium and looks up. As luck would have it, his green eyes land directly on me. In retrospect, the hat and shades were probably more of a magnet. Making me stand out.
Cormac’s body jolts, and his jaw ticks enough for me to see it. His expression shifts from neutral professionalism to something dark and furious.
I swallow hard, throat closing as my whole body trembles. I did everything I could these past few weeks to forget about this man. And here he is. Teaching a class I can’t drop.
He looks down abruptly, jaw grinding, lips mouthing curses. “Just give me a minute to get my bearings.”
My presence is throwing him off. Oh, he’ll make me pay for that. Maybe with his belt across my bare ass. Maybe if he hadn’t rushed out of the hotel room so soon, we could have explored more.
God, I can’t think like that.
Murmurs ripple through the classroom. Several female students are already whispering.
“That is truly the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” one says.
“O’Rourke. The other professor’s brother?” another asks.
“Twin brother,” the first female emphasizes, like that makes Cormac hotter.
“I call dibs. I’m so getting him to fuck me.”
A collective swivel of heads lands on Vienna Farrington, Hamilton’s resident bombshell. The woman who, if the rumors are true, flirts with nearly every professor on campus. But they’re all married. In fact, I can’t think of a single one who isn’t.
Except…
I glance down at Cormac. No ring. He’s single. Which means Vienna will go at him hard. Thinking of her near Cormac has fire raging through my veins.
Sleeping with a professor, married or not, for better grades or a trophy wouldn’t go over well with our class. We’re all competitive, but we’re also a mob. And will call out anyone using sketchy means to get ahead.
Cormac ignores the chatter and seems to have collected his thoughts.
“This course will be demanding, it has to be,” he finally begins. “Pharmacology provides hope to the hopeless. Saves lives, but it can also end them if you’re careless or too lazy to do your research.”
The room goes deadly silent at that one, while my pulse is a wildfire in my neck.
He continues, flipping open his folder. “You will get an overview of the study of drug interactions on every possible level. Due to the rapidly changing nature of the drug business, there has been a massive overhaul in the education of pharmaceuticals. I hate to tell all you third years this, if you cannot commit to understanding and embracing these values, and having respect for what drugs can do, you shouldn’t become a doctor. ”
Mic Drop.
His eyes find me again. But his gaze flicks away fast, like he can’t stand to look at me. That stings harder than it should.
I grip my Stanley and slouch in my seat.
He flips through a notebook on the podium. “Before we go over the syllabus, I’ll take attendance.”
Of course he will.
He’ll find out my last name and that I’m the dean’s daughter. He’ll be even angrier. Because this day isn’t done torturing me.
Cormac starts reading names alphabetically, putting my heartbeat on a countdown.
“Alberts.”
“Here.”
“Bennet.”
“Yo.”
He keeps going with: Blythe. Donato. Ethers.
He gets further down the list. Closer to discovering who I am.
“Farrington.”
“Right here, handsome.” Freaking Vienna wastes no time making her intentions known.
The sounds of scoffing echo through the room. Most of the students are not amused by her games.
But her remark forces the good professor’s eyes upward.
“It’s Dr. O’Rourke,” he says with lethal control.
Her face falls at the rebuke.
I smirk, looking away from her to find his eyes have landed right back on me. He looks down to read the next name, his fingers freezing on the list.
The class rustles, pens tapping, laptops clacking. My palms sweat, and I wipe them on my jeans.
“Ford,” he says with a twitch in his left eye.
The room stays silent, and all movement stops.
Someone nudges me. “Hey, that’s you, right?”
“Present,” I manage, though it comes out strangled.
The professor’s eyes lift slowly at my voice. We lock gazes. His anger is smoldering, the way I stare at ice cream when I’m on a diet. But his scowl feels dangerously close to him thinking my presence is an intentional betrayal, like I had something to do with it.
His grip tightens on the attendance sheet. The paper crinkles, but he looks away to finish the list mechanically. It’s like he’s not here anymore. He’s battling some internal war and losing.
Cormac finishes the attendance, saying that starting next class, a sign-in sheet will be on his desk, and we are responsible for our own attendance.
No sign-in, no credit. That’s common.
He moves on, talking about class expectations, weekly quizzes, the lab, and the clinical case studies we’ll have to solve. I should be taking notes, but my hands won’t stop shaking.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I open the screen to read a message from the management company for the furnished studio downtown I applied for.
Your rental application has been approved.
“No phones, Miss Ford,” barks my professor.
“Yes… Sir.” I emphasize and watch his face flush to match mine.
I’m relieved I have a place to live and can’t wait to sign the application. But I also fear the aftermath that waits for me in eighty-five minutes.
When Dr. O’Rourke wraps up the class, the male students surge for the exit, while Vienna and her minions troupe to the podium. I try to escape with the guys, blend into the flow of baseball-capped bodies to vanish from this burning humiliation.
I almost make it. Almost.
“Miss Ford.” The professor’s voice cracks through the hall.
Fuck.
I slowly turn around.
Cormac stands with his hands braced on the podium, his eyes locked on me. “You are not dismissed.”