Chapter 9
A CHALLENGE
PATIENCE
So close, but so far.
My fingers skim the bottom ridge of the book’s spine, but it’s just out of reach.
I strain, lifting onto my toes and trying again.
The last thing I want to do is bother the librarian for a step stool when she was less than friendly when I walked into the library with a simple question to help guide my search.
Her sneer was aggressive to the point where I’d rather risk climbing the stacks and praying they don’t topple before going to her for a favor.
I’m considering just that when someone closes in behind me, and a hand reaches for the book I’ve been struggling to grab. My back immediately stiffens until I look over my shoulder and find Professor Gray looking down at me.
“You looked like you could use a little help.” His smirk makes my belly swim as he slips the book off the shelf and hands it to me.
“Thanks.” My cheeks are burning as I put another step between us. “I would have asked for a step stool.”
“Now you don’t have to.”
The longer he stares at me, the more I shift on my feet. And when I pull my lower lip between my teeth, his gaze falls to my mouth, which only makes me realize just how close he’s still standing to me.
“Can I help you with something, Professor?”
Why do my questions for him always come out so breathy? I swear this man sucks the air out of a room the second he steps into it. And right now, he’s watching me like he’s considering swallowing me whole.
There’s something dangerously addictive about this man’s attention.
Professor Gray’s gaze falls to the book in my hands. “The essay that accompanied your program application pales in comparison to what you’re capable of.”
“Is that an insult?”
He tilts his head, eyes snapping to mine. “It’s an observation.”
“Well, it sounds like an insult.” I clutch the book closer to my chest. “I’ve never been a great writer, especially under pressure.”
“I never said you weren’t a good writer.”
“It’s what you implied.” I shrug. “Don’t worry. I’m not offended.”
The tick of his eyebrow proves he sees straight through that comment, so I barrel ahead before he can respond.
“I’m better at voicing my thoughts than writing them down. By the time I start typing, it’s easy to forget where I was going. I’d rather do oral presentations.”
“I can appreciate that.”
His smile has my stomach flipping over because I didn’t mean it to sound so scandalous, but that’s how every word sounds when I’m looking at Professor Gray. Thankfully, he breezes past it.
“Your input in class is always enlightening.”
It’s such a simple comment, but it has my chest tightening because he doesn’t sound like he’s being patronizing.
I’m used to being chastised for speaking up in class. I’ve been called names by fellow students and had professors roll their eyes when I’ve interrupted their lecture time and time again.
But the way Professor Gray is looking at me doesn’t hint that he’s annoyed at all. In fact, he seems to appreciate my input. Nothing intimidates him, and I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.
After a long pause, I turn to face the stacks because if I keep looking at him with these thoughts in my head, I’m going to listen to Mila and Violet’s encouragement and do something wholly inappropriate.
“You’re wandering the library awfully late.” I breeze my fingers over a few spines. “Do you live on campus, or do you actually leave this place at some point in the day?”
“I have an apartment nearby.” From the corner of my eye, I catch his smirk. “Every so often, they let me escape.”
His tone is playful, and something about that makes my heart race.
It figures I finally feel something for a man, and he’s almost twice my age. My professor, at that.
“Well, I’ve got my book now.” I wet my lips, cautiously glancing at him. “So feel free to escape if you need to.”
“And what if you find yourself in need of more assistance?”
Why does it sound like he isn’t talking about books?
I ignore that, steadying my breath. “I’ll make sure I choose only books from the lower shelves if that will make you feel better about leaving me.”
My chest is on fire, and when Professor Gray steps closer, narrowly breaching the line of what’s appropriate, I can’t hear or think past the hammering in my ears.
I’m used to people avoiding me.
My walls are high, covered in sharp thorns. The barbs on my tongue bleed people dry before they get the chance to see the real me. And yet, he steps closer. He presses himself to the tip and dares me to cut him.
I look up into his green eyes, barely able to breathe when the gap between us is razor thin, and his apple spice cologne is tempting as sin.
“What are you doing?” It’s nearly a whisper.
“Thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.” It’s honest and raw, and he doesn’t seem like he regrets his admission.
“There’s not much to me.” My stomach flutters. “I’m not that interesting.”
“You prefer people to think that about you, don’t you?” He scratches the back of his neck, and I’m desperate to feel that hand—those fingers.
“I’ve already told you I don’t care what people think about me.”
He smirks. “And we’ve already established I don’t believe you when you say that.
Because you do care, don’t you, Patience?
That’s why you don’t want to be noticed?
You’re afraid someone might really see you, and then you’d have to face that judgment.
That’s why you try to stay in the middle of the road, so you won’t be seen.
Just like the essay you submitted with your application. Good enough, but not memorable.”
“We’re back to you insulting my essay?” My eyes narrow. “If it was that terrible, then why did you let me into the program?”
“I never said it was terrible.”
“You’ve said plenty to confirm it wasn’t good enough for me to be here.”
“Yet here you are.”
“And why is that?”
A slow, menacing grin climbs his cheeks, but he doesn’t answer my question. Almost like he’s toying with me. “You have a difficult time letting down your defenses, Patience Lancaster.”
“I didn’t ask you for a therapy session, Professor.” I stress it like I’m trying to remind myself and him exactly who he is and why we can’t be doing this.
“I’m no therapist, so I guess that works out for both of us.”
My mouth falls open, but I snap it shut.
Is he hoping I’ll say something terrible so he has a reason to kick me out of the program? Maybe he gave me a shot based on a mediocre essay. But now he’s decided I’m not carrying my weight, and he wants me to be the one to give him the reason to cut me loose.
I refuse him that satisfaction, so I stay quiet.
“You’re not going to say what’s on your mind?” His eyebrow hitches.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I doubt that.”
Why does everything he says sound like he sees straight through me?
“Ah, I see…” Amusement flares in his eyes. “You don’t trust me with your secrets.”
“Trust is earned, and I don’t even know you.”
“Is there anyone you do trust?”
“Completely?” I ask, and he nods once. “My brother. At least, I used to trust him. I don’t know anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I can’t trust the people he surrounds himself with,” is all an answer I give.
Professor Gray may or may not know about Sigma House, but I’d rather not talk about it. I’d rather spend the summer pretending it doesn’t exist at all.
“Why does this suddenly feel like an interrogation?” I swallow hard. “Do you get to know all your students like this?”
“Maybe just the ones who fall into my lap on planes.”
My cheeks must turn bright red at the reminder. “What about students like Sophia?”
The second her name is out, I regret saying anything.
I’m not jealous.
I don’t care that he’s clearly screwing her. If I had to guess, he probably has a few women in his rotation. The thought alone makes me sick.
“Sophia?” Professor Gray’s eyebrows pinch.
“Never mind,” I grumble, turning to walk away.
But as I do, he snags my elbow. Gentle but firm. I freeze, still turned away from him as he closes in behind me. His chest grazes my back with each inhale.
With one of his hands gripping the shelf over my head, his other stays on my elbow. His thumb drags back and forth just once before he drops it. Dipping his chin, his breath tickles my temple. I’m clinging to the books in my arms for dear life.
There’s no escaping this man.
And not just because he’s gorgeous—which he is. He’s downright difficult to look at without losing all good sense. But he’s brilliant. Witty. He’s an intellectual minefield that I can’t help walking through just to see what I might set off.
“Why did you bring up Sophia?” he asks me again.
“No reason.”
“I’ve never fucked one of my students, Patience.” His voice is hushed. “That’s what you’re wondering, right?”
“I don’t care if you have or haven’t.”
“Are you sure about that?” He dares to lift a hand, slowly tracing his fingers down the side of my neck. “You get all rosy when you’re lying.”
“It’s hot in here.” That’s partly true.
It is hot in here. But it has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with how close Professor Gray is standing to me right now. How it still isn’t close enough.
Is this what it feels like to want someone? Is this why my friends have been making the worst decisions with boyfriends lately? Because everything running through my mind is not appropriate, but I can’t find it in me to care as his fingertip barely brushes me.
“I misjudged you before we met.”
“You didn’t know me before we met. How could you really have judged me at all?”
He hums, not directly responding to that. “Why are you here, Patience?”
“To learn.”
“Is that the only reason?” His fingers pause at my pulse point, and it’s like he’s using it to read my truth. “You can tell me.”
“No, I can’t.” The huff that escapes is laced with defeat, whether I like it or not. “I really can’t.”
There are things I can’t tell anyone. Ever. Reasons I’ll never let anyone in. My trust is a mountain, and I’ve made sure every side has sharp cliffs so no one can climb it.
“I’m not someone you should try to figure out.” I look up over my shoulder, daring to face him when I should know better.
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t get very far.”
“Is that a challenge?” His lips quirk.
I’m used to men being put off by how difficult I am, but Professor Gray looks…
Turned on?
Is that possible?
He’s thirty-seven. Revered professionally. Brilliant. But that slanted smirk he offers me is downright deadly. Heat pools in my core. I don’t break for charming men, and yet, it takes everything to find strength in my knees the longer he stares.
“Do you like a challenge, Professor?”
I’m testing him with those words—with my tone.
I know this.
I feel it in my bones as his jaw tightens.
Maybe it’s that I have Mila in my ear telling me to let loose for once in my life.
Maybe it’s that after all the support I’ve given my brother, he still went back to Sigma Sin.
Maybe it’s that I fell at the grocery store, and my knees are still raw and aching, and I just want to prove that I’m in control.
But I can’t help myself as I angle my chin up and refuse to back down like I normally would to someone in Professor Gray’s position.
I need more of that look he’s giving me. The fire in his emerald eyes.
I need more of that man from the plane.
Professor Gray leans so that his chest presses firmly to my back as he whispers, “A challenge implies the possibility of failure.”
“And you never fail? Do you think that highly of yourself?” I tilt my chin up. “Or do you just think my expectations are that easy to meet?”
“I have no doubt your expectations are as high as your walls.”
I scoff, shifting again like I’m going to turn away.
But Professor Gray grips my chin, holding it in place, forcing me to look at him.
“You’ve been trained to think that’s a bad thing, but it’s not.
Your standards are exactly where they should be, Patience.
Never lower them because the right person will meet you there.
And when they do, you’ll trust them enough not to be a challenge at all. ”
My throat is sandpaper. My body hums.
He dares to brush his thumb over my chin, and every nerve lights up. But as quickly as he touches me, his eyes blink like he’s coming to his senses, and he steps back, releasing me. Without another word, he walks away, and I can’t help but watch him go, wishing he hadn’t, consequences or not.