8. Hot Syllabus
Hot Syllabus
TALIA
He’s the first person I notice when I set foot in the classroom.
I’ve been hoping to bump into Becks again once classes started.
But the excitement I feel at the thought of seeing him again is immediately dampened by the fact that he’s sitting next to Genevieve. Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Becks told me he was new in Star Cove, so I doubt he’s had time to meet that many people.
My hopes are shattered the second she leans to whisper something into his ear. Gen’s long, perfectly manicured nails grip Becks’s corded forearm in a way that suggests more familiarity than a touch between two people who just met.
“Tal, what are we waiting for? Let’s take a seat.” My brother’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I want to sit next to you so I can copy your notes if the professor talks too fast.”
I roll my eyes at Tucker. “Or I could just send you a copy of my notes. Weirdo.”
He shakes his head. “You know I learn better if I write things down myself. Typed notes don’t do it for me, and besides, I’m slow at typing. If I bring my laptop, there’s no chance in hell I’ll keep up with the lecture.”
“But Cantucci is ok. She doesn’t go too fast and gives you plenty of opportunities to take notes. You should know since you’ve already taken this class.”
Tucker sighs. “Don’t remind me. I took her Intro to Visual Arts class too last year.”
“I don’t get why you did, dude.” Colsen chimes in. “It’s well known that Cantucci isn’t a fan of athletes.”
“That’s true. But that bears the question of why you’re here too, Col.” I tease, well aware that Colsen and Tucker are joined at the hip.
My brother’s teammate exhales a resigned breath. “Don’t ask. Tucker guilted me into signing up for moral support since he had to retake it.”
“I get it. But that doesn’t explain why Tucker took not one but two of Cantucci’s classes last year.”
His admission shouldn’t surprise me. Procrastination is Tucker’s typical M.O.
unless hockey is involved. “I had to take my last two electives, and I left it until the last day registration was open, so I got stuck with Cantucci’s classes.
To be fair, I didn’t think I had any issues.
I got Bs in both classes, but you know there was a problem with this class’s grades. Now, stop babbling and let’s sit down.”
“Hey guys.”
That voice. I would know who it belongs to even without turning around, but I can’t resist the urge.
Like always, Macklin’s dark blue eyes are like a magnet, drawing me in. It takes all my willpower to look away after a few seconds. “Hey Macklin.”
Just one more second until he smiles, and then I have to stop staring.
Whenever I look at him, I always feel this powerful electric current as if the air between us were charged. But I know it’s one-sided. Macklin doesn’t see me that way. Actually, he doesn’t see me at all. To him, I’m just his teammate’s little sister.
Proving my point, he smiles. “Morning, Talia.” And then he immediately turns his attention to Tucker. “Dude, you and Col could have waited for me. You just ran here while I was still in the shower.”
“We did because you took forever in the shower. Forgive me if I don’t want to be late to class while waiting for you to be done rubbing one out.” My brother says.
I can’t help but look at Macklin’s tall, muscular body, and my mind is instantly in the gutter.
My eyes travel from his thick neck and broad shoulders down to his ripped chest and washboard abs.
The way his t-shirt clings to every muscle should be illegal.
His trim waist tapers in and then… heat rises to my face as my eyes land on the fly of his jeans.
This time it’s easy to look away. If he caught me staring at his dick, I wouldn’t be able to look at him again. I’d have to transfer schools. Maybe even leave town.
But thankfully the guys don’t seem to notice my slightly pervy thoughts and continue bickering with each other like only teammates—or siblings—can do.
“I wasn’t rubbing one out, you douche.” Macklin argues. “I ran into some problems when I got to my room, and I had to open the windows and change the sheets.”
Tucker barks out a laugh. “What happened? Did one of your protein farts turn out to be more than just gas?”
I swear to God, when his girlfriend is around, my brother turns into this polite, doting gentleman. I can hardly recognize him. But when Taryn isn’t around, he can be pretty gross. His problem is that he doesn’t have a filter.
“Fuck you.” Macklin laughs, clearly embarrassed. “Let’s just say that someone thought sushi was a good idea for breakfast. I fucking hate sushi.”
I can’t help but wonder if it was one of Macklin’s hookups who ordered sushi for breakfast.
Jealousy, raw and powerful, hits me so hard that it takes my breath away. My crush on the Cove Knights’ captain is so pathetic that I’m jealous of his one-night stands.
“Whatever,” Tucker points to the classroom door. “Cantucci is here. Let’s sit down. I don’t want to start this class by standing out for the wrong reasons.”
He’s right about that. There is nothing worse than getting on Professor Cantucci’s radar. I’ve seen her cool, friendly demeanor change on a dime.
Colsen is the first one to step into the end of the row of seats we’ve been blocking.
“Tal,” Tucker gestures for me to get in, leaving him and Macklin still standing by the last two seats.
Macklin takes one step to get into the row, but my brother stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. I’m sitting next to Talia. You can sit at the end.”
I hide my eye roll as I lean to take my laptop out of the bag. That right there is exactly why I’ve never had a boyfriend. My brother is a six foot five cockblocker. Not that I would ever have one chance in hell to catch Macklin’s attention, but that’s beside the point.
Tucker is always there to make sure that any guy who could be remotely attracted to me knows that he can’t get close to me without going through him first.
I know his intentions are good, but I wish he realized that I’m no longer in high school or a clueless freshman.
“Good morning, everyone.” Professor Cantucci drops a stack of papers onto the desk in the lowest row of seats with a thud.
“I’m Elena Cantucci, and I’ll be teaching you Roman History Through Art this semester.
This right here is the class syllabus. Star Cove College strives to go paperless in a bid to reduce its environmental impact, but I decided to give you a hard copy of the syllabus.
An electronic copy has been sent out to everyone’s emails, so there aren’t going to be any excuses for not knowing the material I require you to read throughout the semester. ”
Professor Cantucci moves her blonde, bouncy curls from one shoulder to the other, causing the many bangles on her arm to clink with the movement.
This isn’t my first class with her, and I’ve always wondered how old she is.
It’s really hard to tell from the way she carries herself.
The way she talks and dresses is youthful.
Today she’s in a dark gray denim mini skirt with matching sky-high stiletto heels that make her stick thin legs look ten miles long.
Her flowing blouse has a floral pattern, and the plunging neckline nestles perfectly between her small breasts.
She could easily be in her forties or in her early sixties.
“The way you’re going to be graded for this class is as follows,” she continues.
“Your attendance will count as ten percent of your final grade. I want you to listen carefully to this because there won’t be any exceptions.
From our next class onward, you’ll sign in using the sheet on my desk as you arrive to class.
If you miss more than two classes during the entire semester, I’m not going to allow you to sit your finals, and you’ll have the choice to drop this class or take it again next semester. ”
The news is greeted with a collective groan by the whole classroom.
“This is because some of the work we’ll do in the classroom is fundamental to this course.
To make sure that everyone stays on track during the semester, there are going to be a couple of pop quizzes.
Each of these will account for ten percent of your grade.
The rest is going to be made up by your score in the final exam and by the grade you’ll get in the practical group project I’ll assign in the coming weeks. ”
“What?” Tucker groans under his breath. “Practical? We didn’t do anything practical last semester. I thought this class didn’t require any drawing or painting.”
He kept his voice down, but my brother’s voice always carries, and the professor heard him.
“Mr. Prescott,” the professor turns her gaze on Tucker. “You’ll be happy to know that our practical project isn’t going to require any drawing or painting. In a way, it’s going to be a little more hands-on. But today isn’t the time to delve into that.”
My curiosity is peaked but aside from the practical project, I wish I could do a cat eye as well as Professor Cantucci. I’ve never seen a more perfect eyeliner application before.
“During the semester, I’ll assign homework in the form of essays.
You’ll deliver those on time and adhere to the formatting specifications in your syllabus.
Deadlines are final, and there aren’t going to be any exceptions.
I don’t care if your course load is too heavy this semester or if there are any other activities that take up your time.
This is a special reminder to the athletes in our midst. Our college is proud of each and every one of you, but it’s your job to balance your studies with your athletic obligations.
If you fail this class, it isn’t my responsibility to give you any extra credit or any makeup work.
Your eligibility to stay in whatever athletic program you’re a part of is your problem, not mine. ”