Chapter 2 #2
God, I didn't know a man like that existed. Lucky bitch. I steer clear of men because they’re simply too much trouble for my current cycle of life. I like to call this the Hot Mess Express.
I’m in a rhythm of eating up the distance between spaces, and completely unprepared when I slam into a hard chest.
“Oof,” I gasp. My boot hits a slick spot on the sidewalk, making me yelp as my foot slips, sending them flying in the air as I become acquainted with the ground. “Ow.”
Hitting my back as hard as I do drives the breath out of my body, so I look like a fish out of water as I gasp.
“Shit.”
Looking up at the guy who is staring at me a bit guiltily, I realize I’ve seen him before. He’s the guy that almost hit me. I get this weird sense of deja-vu but I push it aside. There’s no way I’d know anyone in Minneapolis.
Reaching out, he leans down with a frown and helps me up. “Are you okay? We have to stop meeting like this,” he teases me.
Standing helps as I blink the tears away. Damn, that hurt. Why is the ground so hard?
“I’m so sorry,” I gasp, blushing. I don’t usually react like this, but his intense green eyes draw me in.
Thankfully, my airways open quickly, allowing me to take a deeper breath, but I still sound breathy and out of it.
I can tell that he’s an alpha, but I’ve gotten used to using my alpha blocker gel outside of work over the last two weeks, so I can’t really tell anything else about him.
“It feels as if I’m always rushing lately, and I was unprepared for it to snow today. ”
Smirking, he shrugs as his eyes move over me critically. “You may need a bit more clothes, Rainbow Brite. It’s only going to get colder. At the very least, spring for a coat. You’re looking a bit out of your element,” he says .
Glancing at his watch, his lips twist in annoyance. “I have to be at the library in a few minutes for a study group. Maybe if we run into each other again, we’ll exchange names?”
The hot stranger is already striding away, leaving my mouth hanging open. His shoulders shift underneath his heavy black jacket, and his glutes tighten and release with each step.
Damn, just damn. I can’t even say that he’s rude, just purposeful. There’s an air of barely restrained chaotic energy as he moves, even though he only looked concerned when he saw me on my ass. I imagine what it would be like to have his attention on me for longer and shiver.
It makes me want to go out right away to buy a coat and clothes because he told me to, that’s how intense he was.
Okay, I’m officially the creeper because he’s long gone now.
Shaking my head, I hurry carefully to my class, hoping for a decent teacher for the rest of the semester.
I already am acing the class, I don’t want to mess that up for myself, because I need to keep a high grade point average in my classes to keep my scholarship.
Blowing out a breath as I see the building my class is in, I pull open the door and walk to my classroom. Thankfully, I’m not late, quietly easing into the room as I see a large, imposing man standing at the front of the class talking to a girl with dark brown hair.
Scurrying quietly, I walk up the stairs of the auditorium style classroom to find a seat. It’s one of the smaller spaces, and it’s already filled with students.
Pulling out my notebook, I ignore everyone around me with their laptops. I hooked up to the city wifi last night to get my homework and did it until the damn thing died.
It’s another reason I’ll need to go to the student union: to charge my laptop and phone. My lips purse as I ask myself how hard it would be to get a second job bartending or serving. I can’t let my grades slide or I won’t have a reason to even be here .
“Good morning, class!” the teacher booms from the front of the room. I know that voice.
My fingers clench around my pen as I look up at the teacher. Dark brown eyes flick over me for a second without recognition before moving on. Relaxing, I don't know whether I should be relieved or not that my step-father doesn’t recognize me.
“Dr. Adams, as you all know, is taking a leave of absence, so I will be taking over this class. The History department decided to each take a class, and you all have pulled the short straw,” he continues, making my lips twitch.
I wouldn’t have pegged him as being a hardass as a professor, since he was always so kind to me.
It just shows how little I knew about my step-father.
“I grade based on a mixture of lecture and the texts, so be prepared to know all of it for the final. There will also be an added research paper due in a month, so add that to your syllabus,” he says.
Writing his name on the white board behind him, I huff slightly at the continued evidence that I’m stuck with my step-father teaching me history.
Dr. Cooper Thornefield is written in bold letters in erasable marker on the board. Just fucking great. As long as I’m able to stay out of his way and he doesn’t recognize me, I won’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions.
“I usually do this at the beginning of the semester, but we’re all going to have to be flexible because of the changes we’re facing,” Cooper says as his eyes take us in.
He’s wearing a black sweater with a pair of jeans, and I can see his coat is hanging neatly on the chair behind his desk. He prowls the front of the classroom as if there’s all of this uncontained energy inside of him.
“I need you all to make at least one appearance at my office hours over the next fourteen days, starting next week. I like to have a chance to put a name to a face, and it helps us work together through any challenges you may be facing in this class. ”
It sounds like something that he would do. Unfortunately, this throws a wrench in my plans to lay low and fly under the radar. On the other hand, he has the full roster and knows my name. It won’t take long for him to hunt me down if he wants to.
Shit. I force myself to pay attention even as panic claws at me. Anonymity is something I’ve been holding onto hard, despite the regular check-ins with my academic counselor. Martha Carmichael tends not to scratch too far beneath the surface and it’s served me well.
“Alright, to schedule an appointment this week, please email my assistant, Brooke, and she’ll get you a slot in my office hours. I’ll extend them so they work for everyone,” Cooper finishes.
The rest of the class is a cacophony of words that I can’t seem to process as I take notes.
I know I won’t be able to remember anything that’s said, so I simply write everything possible down.
In a haze, I pack up my things, asking myself how I managed to piss off the Gods of Fate so badly. Things were going to damn well.
Well, other than the snow. As I step outside of the building, I sigh as I see more of the white stuff coming down.
Tears of frustration slide down my face, seeming to freeze immediately and pissing me off more.
Pulling my hood over my hair, I head to the student union to treat myself to some coffee, a pastry, and to make some sense of my notes, while my computer charges before I head in to work.
Something has to give, because today is not going well.