Chapter 3
Nausea swirls in my stomach as I watch the students file out of the lecture hall.
Thankfully, I skipped breakfast this morning, else it would be on the floor. Things are embarrassing as it is. If I puked, I don’t think I would ever live it down.
In addition to making a further fool of myself in front of Professor Holmes, I’m certain my classmates would hold it over my head for as long as they could—I’m already at their mercy because of my thick accent.
“Good luck,” Cassidy says, squeezing past me on her way out of the aisle. “Beg him, maybe?" She shoulders her bag and smooths down her middle part. “He doesn’t seem like the type to fail you. Maybe he’ll give you an extra day to submit it.”
Her words offer me little consolation. I didn’t think Professor Holmes the type to insult me in front of the entire class either, but here we are.
Right now, I’d be lucky if he only fails me.
Saint Frederic University’s professors are atypical.
In addition to being scholars, they come from crime families just like us—though they try to keep the details a secret.
All they have is a meager code of conduct that’s more legal than moral.
The punishments they mete out varies. They could be as simple as being locked up in the Disciplinary Room for a few days, or something more serious, like getting kicked off your dorm.
Hell, Professor Holmes could even have me expelled if he wanted.
The thought of going home early nearly makes me dry heave. I keep the bile back with a hand over my mouth and as much self-control I can muster. I must make this right, however I can.
I stay in my seat until the last student has exited the room.
Professor Holmes has his back turned, busy organizing all his things and packing them away neatly. After every class, even when he goes over time, he takes the time to ensure everything is in its proper place in his briefcase before he leaves.
It’s one of my favorite things about him.
I chide myself for my thoughts as I approach him on shaky legs. The fact I’m managing to lust after this man even during this horrible situation makes me feel pathetic. I try to stay focused on the task at hand—not getting expelled.
Professor Holmes stills when I’m a few paces away from him.
When he turns to face me, I sink my teeth into my lips. Very rarely do I get to see him up close, much less up close and alone. I’m annoyed at my body’s reaction to him. I should be scared, but instead heat spreads outwards from my core.
I lift my eyes to meet his, but his gaze is too intense.
He’s clearly upset. His arms are folded across his chest—highlighting one of his best features, those tattooed, muscular arms—and his scowl is even more unbridled than before.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Miss Vásquez?” he asks. His voice is low, but I hear it clearly, even over the thundering of my chest. “As a matter of fact, should I even give you the opportunity to explain why you disrespected me?”
My eyes widen. First, it was the class. Now, it’s him.
“No, sir, I—”
He cuts me off by lifting his finger. I shut up.
He takes a step toward me. Even at my above-average height of five-foot-ten, Professor Holmes towers over me. He looks down the bridge of his nose at me and I feel like a child. A child in a mountain of trouble.
“I don’t want your excuses,” he says. “Since you clearly have no regard for my class anymore, I think it best for me to treat you in the same manner.”
My lip trembles. Professor Holmes looks me over with his austere gaze. “Look at you,” he says, circling me. “Your hair is unkempt, there’s a stain on your blouse and your skirt needs to be hemmed.” He clicks his tongue in disgust.
My eyes burn, but he is unrelenting. “Tell me something, Miss Vásquez. Is this horrendous outfit, your frequent tardiness, and your failure to turn in an assignment I explicitly mentioned would be worth half of your grade this semester some feeble attempt to get my attention?”
The question stuns me.
My words dry up on my tongue. All I can do is stare at him with my mouth open.
“Use your words,” he commands.
I find the courage to push the words past my teeth. “No, sir. I would never do something like this for your attention.” I’m not even sure what I’m saying.
He’s still circling me, his harsh eyes raking over my body. His scrutiny has my skin vibrating like a livewire, and the embarrassment and humiliation has blurred into one intense, overwhelming feeling.
I’m not sure whether I should run away or cry.
He stops when he’s directly in front of me. He’s stepped even closer, invading the last bit of personal space I had. Like a fire in a room with limited oxygen, leeching it all away before I can fill my lungs enough to calm myself down.
“You would never?” he asks mockingly. “I doubt that.” He rubs his index finger and thumb together, glancing down at the motion before looking back at me.
“To me, it seems like you figured that the low-cut tops and short skirts were no longer enough. That being the student who did the best in my class wasn’t enough, so you wanted to get my attention some other way. ”
This conversation is treading on my nerves in a way I didn’t expect.
This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, Professor Holmes and I.
I didn’t know any man’s attention could be this unnerving.
Though I don’t know what to say, I do know that I don’t want him to come away thinking I’m desperate for his attention.
It was true a few weeks ago, but not anymore.
Now, all I’m doing is preparing for my metaphorical funeral. It’s like watching a car crash in slow-motion: you know how it’s going to end but you can’t look away. I’m that car—hurtling towards sure destruction with no way to stop it.
“None of that was ever to get your attention, sir,” I lie.
I want to tell him that my life is falling apart, but I decide against it. If this conversation is any indication, it would probably only make him more upset.
Professor Holmes laughs. It’s a full belly laugh that echoes in the empty lecture hall. He takes a few moments to steady himself, and during that time I think about how I’ve never heard him laugh like that before.
Under different circumstances, I would be committing that sound to memory.
“None of it was to get my attention?” he says, as if he’s truly amused. “If you’re going to lie, little girl, it would do you well to ensure you don’t keep friends with such loose lips.”
The blood drains from my face. He doesn’t keep me in suspense for long.
“I overheard a particularly spirited conversation on my way to class yesterday. Your friend, Cassidy Coldwell, stood talking of your obsession with me to a rapturous audience.” He smiles, but instead of warmth, all I feel is coldness.
I can’t believe Cassidy would do such a thing. I want the ground to open and swallow me. Not only has Cassidy betrayed my trust, but she’s also done the one thing I never expected her to do—she’s inadvertently told Professor Holmes.
He seems to enjoy my mortification, for his smile grows and he laughs again. It sounds like a death knell now. “Her language was very vulgar, I must add. Certainly not what I would expect you to be saying about me behind my back.”
This just keeps getting worse.
“I’m so sorry, Professor Holmes,” My voice is weak. I can’t even bring myself to meet his eyes. “I didn’t mean….” No, that’s a lie. “I didn’t know you would find out.”
He uses a finger on my chin to bring my gaze back to his.
The single touch ignites my entire body. Not only is this the longest conversation we’ve ever had, but it’s also now the first time he has ever touched me. I pull in a deep, shaky breath, trying to dispel the fluttering heat gathering deep in my belly.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he says.
Now that he’s touched me, I’ve finally become aware of just how close we are.
I’m standing only centimeters away from him.
If we both took a deep breath at the same time, our chests would touch.
Silence falls between us for a few heartbeats, and all I can think about is just how illicit this moment feels even though nothing has happened.
“Do you want to know the real reason I’m upset, Tara?” My name sounds like a poem from his lips.
I don’t trust myself to speak, or even breathe for that matter, lest this fragile moment shatters. So I nod.
“I’m upset because you are my favorite student.”
Those words are kindling to the raging fire in my abdomen. It grows, spreading to my skin and the tips of my fingers. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. “I am?”
Professor Holmes nods, his hand traveling from my chin to cup my cheek.
“You are a delight to have in my class. I look forward to seeing you each week.” He runs his thumb along the bridge of my nose.
“Your eagerness to answer my questions. The delight in your eyes whenever I look at you.” He pauses, his eyes flickering to my lips.
“You make every single one of my classes enjoyable, Tara.”
My eyes burn once more, but I blink quickly to stop the tears from falling. I feel a little stupid that his words have this much of an effect on me. But it’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone express their appreciation for me without any strings attached.
“When you first started showing up late and sitting in the back, I couldn’t understand what had changed.
It was like the light disappeared from you.
” There’s genuine pain in his voice, as if I hurt him somehow.
I open my mouth to speak but his thumb moves to my lips to silence me.
“When I heard what Cassidy said, it started to make sense.”
I shake my head quickly. No, I don’t want him to think that. He cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “That isn’t the case?”
I nod.
“What is it then?”
He waits, finally allowing me to speak.
“There has just been…” I turn the words over in my mind, unsure of how to say this without ruining everything. The last thing I need is Professor Holmes’ pity. “There’s a lot going on in my life right now. My future isn’t going to be what I thought it would, and I’m having a hard time adjusting.”
Professor Holmes clicks his tongue. “That’s hardly any reason to ruin your education, Tara.
” His tone is disapproving, but not as harsh as before.
“What you learn and who you meet here at Saint Frederic can shape your future in unimaginable ways.” His hand on my cheek tightens a bit.
“It’s a mistake not to focus in my class.
I am a professor who demands everything of his students. ”
I straighten at his words. It’s no secret Professor Holmes is one of the harsher teachers on campus.
I never experienced it until now because I was always on his good side.
The longer this conversation continues, the more I'm certain I won’t be able to beg him for an extension like Cassidy suggested.
“What can I do to make up for the test?” I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. Now that I know I’m his favorite student, I don’t want to disappoint him.
Professor Holmes chuckles. “Make up for the assignment?” He purses his lips together briefly. “Why do you think I would allow you to? Because you’re my favorite student?”
I suck in a breath, nodding.
“Are you asking for special treatment, Tara?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t call it that,” I begin. “I’ve made a mistake, and I would like to make up for it, somehow. I don’t want to fail this course.”
Even though it doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, I find myself wanting to make things up to Professor Holmes most of all. If any other teacher on campus hates me, I wouldn’t mind it much.
But his opinion matters to me more than I would admit to anyone.
“Like I said, I am a very demanding Professor,” he says. He moves his hand slowly down my neck to rest it on my shoulder. It’s a simple action, but I’m so mesmerized by his touch I stifle a groan by catching my lip between my teeth.
“I don’t care,” I say. “I want to make up for it.” I want to make it up to you.
For a moment, it feels like we’re talking about something else.
The corner of Professor Holmes’ lips lift lightly into the subtlest smile. His gaze falls from my eyes to my lips. He takes a step closer, erasing the final bit of distance between us and my heart starts hammering in my chest again. I’m sure he can feel it.
The heat in my core starts to pulse, matching my heartbeat. All I can think of is his lips on mine. It’s a crazy thought, I know, to even consider he would kiss me. But he starts to lean down, and I root my feet into the floor and hold my breath.
He doesn’t kiss me, sadly.
He leans down to put his lips by my ear. His free hand moves to grip my waist and pull me into him. I close my eyes as the smell of him envelopes me. His cologne is discreet, only noticeable when you’re this close, but gosh is it intoxicating.
He smells of cedarwood and sage, mixed with the slightest hint of aged whiskey.
“Come to my office at six this evening,” he whispers in my ear. “We’ll discuss how you can make up for your behavior at that time.” I nod even before he’s finished speaking.
He pulls away from me and I almost want to whimper now the smell and warmth of him is gone too. Professor Holmes looks down on me with a smirk on his face, the first hint that he’s aware of what he’s just done to me.
“Don’t be late,” he says.
He moves back to his desk. I watch quietly as he finishes packing his things and leaves.