Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Alis
He should wear vests more often. I’m sitting in the back row in the far right corner, supposedly grading quizzes while Dr. Belanger finishes up his lecture about research essays.
I say supposedly because every few minutes I find myself staring at him as discreetly as possible, and before I know it I’ve wasted another ten minutes in a lustful trance.
I can’t help it — the man is next-level beautiful in a gray suit vest over a button-down with rolled-up sleeves and the top two buttons open. Seriously, delicious.
I’m still adjusting to this new facet of my personality — the formerly dormant wannabe sex kitten now fighting her way to the surface.
I’ve stopped shoving her back into my mental vault.
Turns out her claws are long enough to pick locks and free herself.
Since she’s not going anywhere, I may as well get to know her and grow comfortable in her presence.
Hopefully embracing her will help me to gain control of her rather than being controlled by her.
I should be able to tell whether or not Jennifer Fitzgibbons completed last night’s reading based on her multiple choice answers, but instead, I can give a detailed account of the way Dexter Belanger’s arm muscles tug on the fabric of his dark blue shirt as he uses gestures to emphasize the importance of analysis and argument in writing.
Who knew talk of thorough and unbiased research could be so hot? Don’t you worry, Dr. Belanger. I’d research every square inch of your body as thoroughly as possible. You won’t find gaps or room for further argument when I’m done with you.
I’m chewing on my pen, eyes glued to him, when he looks my way and locks eyes with me.
Shoot me. I’ve been caught, again. The last three times he caught me watching he didn’t acknowledge my stares, instead reverting his gaze back to the class and continuing with his lecture.
This time, however, he keeps his eyes on me and smirks before returning his attention to the students.
If only he had winked, last week’s fantasy would have become reality. You’d think the consequences of said fantasy would deter me from allowing my thoughts to drift in that direction, but no. The longer I stay in this classroom watching him teach, the more I succumb to my attraction to him.
It’s not like I’m the only female in this classroom checking him out. I bet the majority of the women in this class have no idea what he’s even talking about because their eyes are glazed over with lust and their thoughts are a million miles away from the topic at hand.
“That’s it for today. Don’t forget to complete tonight’s reading and we’ll see you in class tomorrow morning.
” Just as Dexter returns to the lectern to close his laptop and gather his items to leave, four female students crowd around, asking him God only knows what in an attempt to capture even a second of his undivided attention.
Who am I kidding? I’m nearly as pathetic as they are.
While I know I should pack up my stuff and leave, I instead find myself continuing the grading charade in hopes that I’ll get a second alone with him when those girls finally leave.
I just want to compliment him on his lecture, and maybe thank him for covering this section so I could catch up on grading and not have to take work home with me tonight.
If only I had actually graded while he taught instead of losing myself in his voice the entire time.
Dammit to hell. I’m going to be up until midnight finishing these quizzes and I have no one to blame but myself.
“I never knew choosing a research topic could be so difficult! Do you have any time tomorrow to help me narrow it down, Dr. Belanger? Maybe during the lunch break?” I choke back a laugh (okay, fine, we both know it was a snort) at the girl’s not-so-subtle come-on.
I know he heard me, and there’s no way I’ll own up to it, so I keep my eyes fixed on the quiz before me and try my best to drown out the sounds of young twenty-somethings flirting with their professor.
Dexter doesn’t strike me as the cradle-robbing type.
I continue grading through two more quizzes when I’m interrupted by a masculine index finger tapping my desk. I look up and see Dexter smiling down at me, eyebrow raised in amusement. “Enjoying yourself back here, Miss Gilmore?”
I push my glasses back up my nose and reply, “Quiz grading is riveting.”
“Is that so? It looked to me like you were more interested in Daphne’s research topic struggles than the quizzes.” Dammit, I knew he heard me. “Either that or you were honing your pig impersonation. Five stars, by the way. That was a solid snort if I’ve ever heard one.” Kill me now.
“No idea what you’re talking about. Which one is Daphne?” I feign ignorance, picking up the stack of graded quizzes and tapping them on the desk to align the papers before setting down the stack and thumbing through the ones I have left.
Dexter snickers and asks, “Need some help finishing up?” Yes, please.
“I’m good. I’ll just take them home and finish up there.” Staying in this room with him for one second longer is not a good idea. I can hardly pay attention to what I’m supposed to be doing when he’s in the same room, not paying attention to me and surrounded by fifty-something students.
“Nonsense. I finished class more than an hour early.” Dexter raps his index knuckle on the desk twice to pull my attention from the papers and back to him. “Let’s order a pizza and knock these out before closing up shop for the night.”
I look up to tell him that won’t be necessary, but the second our eyes meet my brain short circuits and my mouth betrays me. “Sure. Yeah. Okay.” Watch out, Lin Manuel Miranda. Master wordsmith Alis Gilmore comin’ at ya.
“Great,” Dexter smiles down at me and picks up the stack of not-yet-graded quizzes. He takes a step back and nods toward the door. “Let’s head to my office. We’ll drop off our stuff and walk over to Nico’s.”
We’re almost to his office building, comfortably chatting about the upcoming topics for the class, when a thought slaps me upside the head.
Hold up. Dinner and then work? I thought we were dinnering while working. As in, simultaneously. Is dinnering even a word? My mental Word document doesn’t show any red squiggles, so I’m pretty sure it’s a word. Interesting.
Dexter is still talking about the strengths and weaknesses he saw in the students based on their interactions in class today. He doesn’t seem to notice my mental hyperventilation.
I need a few minutes to clear my brain fog before I can do anything alongside this man, so I cut him off mid-sentence and ask, “Would it be okay if I get to work on these quizzes while you grab the food?” I don’t know if it’s weird to ask him to leave me in his office, alone, but the words are out of my mouth before I consider anything outside of my need for space.
“Not a problem,” he says, smiling down at me as he opens the building door for me to enter. The dim hallway lights are our only guide to his pod, offices and lobbies alike dark without their usual inhabitants busy at work.
It’s nearly seven thirty and most people leave for the day at five, so the dark offices don’t surprise me. However, I had hoped the cleaning crew would still be working on this building so we wouldn’t be completely alone.
No such luck.
The second I step foot into his office I’m enveloped by his scent. God, he smells so good.
I make myself at home in his sitting area, retrieving the quizzes and my red pen from my bag. Dexter, thankfully, reads the room and sets his bag down before saying, “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Thanks,” I say, not looking up from the quizzes. I don’t want to be rude; I’m just overwhelmed with everything right now and I need a few minutes to sort through all these thoughts and emotions before I interact with him again.
Actually, no. I don’t need to sort through my emotions right now because that will just bring them to the forefront of my mind and distract me, once again, from finishing these quizzes. I finish grading another quiz and then pull out my phone to inform Skye about tonight’s schedule change.
Alis: Class ended early but I have some grading to knock out so I’m going to do that here before I head home.
Skye: Ok. Hiding out in the library?
Alis: I wish. I’m in L&L.
Skye: … you don’t have an office in L&L.
Skye: OMG ARE YOU WITH DEXTER?!
Alis: It’s not a big deal. He offered to help me finish grading so I wouldn’t have to take it home.
Skye: *smirking face emoji*
Alis: I’ll be home in a few hours. I don’t think I’ll be late, but I wanted to touch base with you just in case.
Skye: Just in case you get carried away with Sexy Dexy and try to sneak in around 1 a.m.?
Alis: *face palm emoji* No. Just in case I’m a little late coming home since we’re going to grade all the quizzes here.
Skye: “grade all the quizzes” is a euphemism for “have all the sex”
Alis: How are we friends?!
Skye: “Talk nerdy to me, Dexter!”
Alis: Don’t let Sunny stay up past nine.
I swear, that woman could turn a conversation about pre-teen acne into something sexual.
I tried to get into her headspace once — imagined what it’s like to twist any and every thought into a sex joke.
Couldn’t do it. I tried for maybe an hour before the headache set in.
And by “tried” I mean it took a ridiculous amount of effort to force my thoughts in a perverted direction.
Just one more thing we don’t have in common, yet, somehow, she’s my best friend — she and Tori, whom I haven’t heard from in weeks.
Skye spends at least every other weekend visiting her in Moraine, but I haven’t yet traveled home since we moved.
Maybe next time we’ll tag along with Skye and spend the weekend with my parents.