Chapter 2 #3
Then she stood opposite me. As she ticked my name on the sheet, her eyes—the same dark brown that had dismissed me moments ago—locked onto mine again.
It was only a second, but it was long enough for me to feel that familiar twist in my gut, a nervous energy that had nothing to do with Economics.
She didn't smile or offer a pleasantry; she simply acknowledged my existence on her register and moved on.
I forced myself to concentrate, leaning in as Holly started trying to define 'Scarcity' using examples. I managed to offer a slightly academic angle, eager to prove I wasn’t just a slacker.
The discussion was momentarily interrupted by the soft sound of the classroom door opening and closing. Dr. Carter, who had returned to her laptop, turned and spoke quietly to the new arrival for a moment. Then, she straightened, her commanding voice drawing the attention of the class once more.
“Class,” Dr. Carter announced, stepping aside to reveal the woman. “This is Ms. Davies, a teaching assistant and our department aid. She will be available for extra support and practical application exercises throughout the course.”
I turned and instantly had to clamp my teeth down on my lip to stop a burst of delighted, shocked laughter.
Oh, hi Blondie.
I was desperate to laugh, to cheer, to immediately call Mia. Blondie—or rather, Ms. Davies—offered a gentle smile to the room. “I’m sure I’ll get to know you all soon.”
Then came the moment I would replay in my mind over and over again.
Her gaze swept the classroom and landed on our table.
She froze, looking like she was about to spontaneously combust. I smirked and leaned back in my chair.
The brazen ease with which I met her eye visibly stumbled her; her mouth opened and closed almost comically.
My eyes flickered to Dr. Carter, who was watching Ms. Davies as if the department aid was having a minor stroke. Ms. Davies visibly snapped herself back to reality, taking a steadying breath. She forced a stiff smile, turning back to Dr. Carter. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”
I took the opportunity to look her up and down again.
She was dressed impeccably: straight-legged trousers that cupped her arse perfectly, a cute floral blouse tucked in with a thin belt.
Her faculty ID was clipped to one of her trouser loops.
She looked good. Saturday night slammed back into my mind—the sound of her moaning in my ear, her hot, ragged breath on my neck.
She turned toward the door, and her eyes instantly flicked to me. I smirked again, not even trying to hide the fact that I was checking her out. She tried to pretend she wasn’t blushing as she practically fled the room.
I released a low chuckle, idly flicking my pen, ecstatic over the absolute plot twist life had just thrown at me.
A sudden chill ran down my spine. I looked up and found Dr. Carter staring directly at me.
Her eyes were slightly narrowed, her head tilted, and her jaw was locked as if she was minutely assessing every inch of my composure.
Her eyebrow raised, barely perceptible, then she pivoted back to her laptop.
I immediately dropped my gaze and tried to focus on the table discussion. I wasn’t sure what that was. She probably saw me brazenly checking out Ms. Davies and clearly thought I was out of line. Which, yeah, I guessed I technically was. Fair enough.
The remaining forty-five minutes of the seminar passed under a thick layer of tension.
Dr. Carter paced the room like a hawk, and though I forced my eyes onto my notebook, I could feel the occasional weight of her gaze passing over our table.
When the clock finally hit ten and the class was dismissed, a collective, silent sigh of relief rippled through the room.
As I walked past Dr. Carter's desk on the way out, there was a definite, glacial chill in the air.
She didn't look up from her laptop, but I stole a glance anyway. How could I not? She was the most striking woman I’d ever seen—sharp, immaculate, and entirely dangerous.
I made sure to exit the room before my jaw entirely slackened.
Urgh. Now I had a massive gap until my 2:00 p.m. lecture. Time for the library.
I’d already powered through the initial textbooks they had told us to order.
I was going to get this degree and pass with freaking honours if it was the last thing I did.
I didn’t work my arse off for years just to sail by.
No, I was going to ace every class, and I wasn’t wasting money on an unnecessary round-trip bus fare.
These interim hours would be spent head down, getting a serious jump start on the coursework due in four weeks.
I quickly located a free computer in the business section—perfect, no need to wander far for source texts.
I staked my claim immediately, dropping my backpack by my feet, opening my physical textbook, and setting my water bottle on the side.
Logging in, I opened the university portal and began scanning the details for the first piece of coursework.