Chapter 3 #2
Holly’s eyes flicked to me, eyes wide. "Can you believe that? Kicking them out on the first week.” Fear and indignation bled into her hushed voice.
I shrugged, keeping my voice low. "She made the rules clear. If I managed to make it on time, so should they. And calling her a bitch under his breath? That's just out of order."
Holly nodded, conceding the point, and we tried to work through the bullet points.
Holly was a bit behind the curve in Economics; her notebook was already filling up with anxious annotations.
I carefully talked her through the initial concepts, simplifying the terminology and focusing on the real-world application, which seemed to be the only way to make this stuff stick for her.
A shadow fell over our table.
"Are you two managing this concept?" Ms. Davies asked, her voice soft but authoritative, her eyes fixed entirely on Holly's textbook. "It's a tricky one if you're new to the material."
I smirked, resting my chin on my hand. Ms. Davies was leaning over the table, her presence radiating professional warmth and a faint, lovely scent that definitely wasn’t present on Saturday night.
Maybe it was a perfume she only wore for work?
She was completely ignoring me, pretending I wasn’t even there—which, given the circumstances, was smart.
But the clear, deliberate way she focused her energy on just Holly was thoroughly entertaining.
She wanted to help the struggling student, sure, but she also wanted to be nowhere near the club hookup sitting right next to her.
"I think we're getting there," Holly said, already looking relieved as Ms. Davies pointed a slim finger at a definition.
I watched Ms. Davies’s face, enjoying the tiny, controlled twitch near her mouth as she avoided my gaze. You're doing great, Blondie.
“Alex?”
Holly’s quiet voice snapped me out of my staring contest with Ms. Davies’s collarbone. I raised an eyebrow at her, a silent Yes?
“Is this the concept you were talking about after the lecture yesterday?” Holly pointed to a hasty annotation in her notebook.
I tore my gaze away from Blondie, forcing myself to look at the board where Dr. Carter had projected the discussion points.
I leaned over Holly’s notebook. She had definitely confused two similar concepts—the definition of 'Utility' seemed to have been conflated with 'Demand Elasticity.'
I gently tapped her page with my pen. “You’ve got the two mixed up, Hol. Remember, Utility is about satisfaction—it's subjective. Elasticity is the measure of how quantity demanded reacts to a price change. They're related, but you can’t use them interchangeably in the essay.”
As I spoke, explaining the difference simply, I felt a shift in the energy beside me. Ms. Davies was then looking at me, not at the notebook. She seemed genuinely impressed by the clarity of the correction.
I met her eyes, a slow smirk spreading across my face. I couldn’t help myself. “I’m not just a pretty face,” I murmured, my voice low enough that only she could hear the taunt.
A sudden flush crept up Ms. Davies’ neck.
She bit her lip and ducked her head in a swift, gorgeous effort to hide it, ignoring the remark altogether.
She pivoted to Holly, double-checking her understanding of the newly separated concepts, before retreating to the front of the room where Dr. Carter waited by her laptop.
I watched her go, thoroughly enjoying our little game. She was walking back toward the front, and I let my eyes follow the sway of the pencil skirt. Damn.
My gaze drifted from Ms. Davies’ smooth movement to meet Dr. Carter’s definite, frosty look.
She must have noticed my gaze lingering.
I tried to pull off an innocent, wide-eyed smile, but Dr. Carter just stared back at me with a hard, unreadable gaze.
She pointedly turned away to engage Ms. Davies in conversation.
A cold, sharp look caught my eye, instantly cutting through the room. Yeah, that was a warning shot if I ever saw one. Apparently, my subtle checking-out hadn't been nearly as subtle as I thought—and the third party was thoroughly unimpressed.
By 1:00 p.m., I was heading to the library, all my seminars and lectures done for the day.
I made a straight line for my new favourite spot, setting up at one of the computers in the business section.
Probably because it was still the first week, the library wasn't very busy; most of the Freshers, at least, were probably napping between classes after spending every night on the lash. I didn’t envy Mia one bit; Freshers’ Week—or two weeks—is a new kind of hell every year.
Tuesdays and Wednesdays were the worst with every promotion under the sun in full swing.
I was eternally grateful to Mia’s Dad for changing my contract to guarantee just weekend work.
He was reluctant at first because, obviously, I’m amazing and they need my bartending skills on busy nights, but he had grown to respect me over the last couple of years and he believed in education.
He didn't put up too much of a fight. Mia, however, would probably never forgive me for abandoning her.
Speak of the devil, my phone buzzed.
I looked down to see Mia calling. I laughed every time at the horrendous picture I’d swiped of her during one of our glossier-eyed shifts; even from this terrible angle and blurred focus, she still looked like a damn goddess.
“Well, hello, if it isn’t the Goddess of War herself,” I smiled, answering the phone and doing my best to keep my voice down.
Mia’s voice sounded husky, exhausted, and slightly manic on the other end. “Can you work tonight?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Absolutely not.”
“Alex, please.”
“No. It is literally the first week, babes. I’m exhausted as it is. There is no way in hell I’ll survive the rest of the week if I work tonight.”
Mia groaned, and I could practically hear the pout. “The newbies suck, and I practically had to sprint around the bar last night. I need you.”
“Of course you do, because I’m incredible, but it is still a no.” I loved the woman, but I couldn't risk screwing myself over, especially when I’d only just started. “They’ll get better,” I added, trying to be comforting.
“Not fucking quick enough,” she groaned, sighing in defeat. “So, how is it going? Are you a business genius yet?”
I smirked. “Oh, absolutely. I’ve actually been told I’m so much of a genius that I’ll be able to graduate in a month instead of the three years expected.”
She chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure that’s the case.” Then, as if I could see her big grin, she asked, “Have you fucked Blondie in the staff room yet?”
I mocked a gasp. “I would never do such a thing.”
Mia laughed so loud the sound actually caused me to glance around, hoping not to disturb any other students, but the area was thankfully empty.
“Sure you wouldn’t. What, were you not good enough on Saturday, so she isn’t up for another round, or is she too flustered by your presence she’s avoiding you? ”
“The latter, obviously, because I rocked her world.”
Mia spat out another laugh. “Well, sounds like you’re having a great week.”
“Much better than yours.”
She groaned. “Ugh, just fuck off. I hope you fail and have to come back to work full time.”
“Well, that’s just rude,” I chuckled.
Mia started a frantic rant about the newbies—something about them confusing spirits and nearly undercharging, and her needing fifty arms just to get through the night.
But my concentration was pulled from the phone call as I saw Blondie not far away, talking quietly with a librarian.
She turned, as if she could feel my gaze on her, and her eyes darted around nervously for a moment before she looked back at the librarian and finished her conversation.
And, to my utter surprise, she began walking directly toward me.
“Babes,” I said quietly, cutting Mia off mid-rant.
“Yeah?”
“Got to go.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Blondie is walking over to me.”
Mia chuckled. “You better call me back, you whore.”
“I love you too.” I chuckled and put the phone down.
With utter confidence, I sat back in my chair, raising an eyebrow as Ms. Davies reached me and sat down in the chair right next to me.
“Hi, Blondie,” I smiled.
She creased her eyebrows at me. “Blondie?”
I smirked. “I didn’t get your name on Saturday.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You know it’s Ms. Davies to you.”
My smirk deepened involuntarily. “Kinky.”
“Bloody fuck,” she muttered under her breath, looking around quickly, hoping nobody heard me. No one had; this section was completely deserted, save for us.
I simply smiled happily, utterly enjoying her surprising presence. I pursed my lips, a silent question: So, what do you want?
She looked like she genuinely wanted to knock me out, which only entertained me further. She was the one who came over there, and quite frankly, she was the one who had pursued me Saturday night, so her current high frustration levels seemed entirely misplaced to me.
She let out a sharp, frustrated exhale. “Obviously, if I had known you were a student, I would never have…” She cleared her throat, the professional mask slipping. “It is a serious conflict of interest and—”
I cut her off, reaching out and gently steadying her flailing hands where they rested on the desk. Her eyes widened at the sudden contact, but she didn't pull away. “Chill out. I’m not going to say anything, and honestly, it’s not that deep.”
I squeezed her hands once before letting go. The gesture seemed to work; her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she leaned against the desk, looking like she’d finally managed to articulate the anxiety that had been stressing her for days.
She sighed. “Thank you.”
I smiled. “You’re welcome.” Then I teased, "So, does this mean you're going to stop looking so terrified around me now?”
She rolled her eyes, a flash of her old confidence returning. “I’ve not been terrified.”