Chapter 2
ASHER
You are not supposed to think your students are hot.
The second day of class feels painstakingly similar to the first day, in the fact that I can’t keep my eyes off Summer Nyx. She’s wearing another torturingly short skirt to class, crossing her legs so that it rides up higher on her thighs, making me clench my teeth anytime she shifts in her seat.
She’s sitting front and center, next to her friend from yesterday. She flips long, golden blonde hair over her shoulder, the tips brushing the bottom of her ribcage. My fingers itch to grab a handful of her hair and force her to look up at me.
I shake my head and try to clear my mind of the inappropriate thoughts.
I surprised the students with a pop quiz to see where they were all at and what we needed to focus on this semester. She scribbles away, making quick work of the quiz with no difficulty whatsoever. She hits a question that gives her pause, and she bites down on her full, pink bottom lip.
She glances up, and beautiful light brown eyes meet mine.
Delicate freckles dust her cheeks, and her golden-hued skin takes on a pink flush the longer we stare at each other.
A loose strand of hair falls in front of her face.
I want to brush it away, feel the smooth skin of her cheek under my fingertips.
The sun-kissed skin looks as soft as satin.
I clench my hands into fists, feeling my fingernails digging into my palms, like my fingers are mourning her even though they’ve never truly touched her.
I quickly turn away, cursing myself for having gotten caught up in watching her.
Don’t be fucking creepy, I snap at myself internally.
I make my way over to my desk, listening to the scratch of pencils on paper. I sit down and attempt to hide myself behind my computer—more like trying to hide her from my view.
I respond to an email from a student already asking for an extension on their paper that’s due next week.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the audacity of a grad student waiting all of one day before requesting an extension on an assignment that’s due a week away.
A simple, The due date will remain next Monday, should suffice.
A text message appears in the upper-right corner of my laptop screen. I glance around to see that plenty of students are still working on their quizzes, though I immediately notice that Summer has already finished hers and is impatiently tapping her foot against the floor.
I click on the text to see that it’s from my coworker’s friend, Nikki.
Jared had mentioned that he would give her my number, since he thought we’d really hit it off.
I personally wasn’t sure if I felt like doing the expected niceties of a first date…
but it has been a while since I’ve gotten laid—months, in fact.
My eyes flit toward Summer.
No, do not go there.
I return my attention to the text.
Nikki:
Hey! Jared gave me your # and I figured I’d reach out!
See if you want to get dinner or drinks?
The fact that she used the number sign instead of simply typing out ‘number’ doesn’t bode well for us, but as I catch myself looking back toward Summer, I figure it can’t hurt to go out with Nikki.
Jared said she was nice… and most importantly, she isn’t one of my students.
There’d be no breach of my contract by seeing her outside of the classroom.
A message from Jared pops up in our group chat.
Jared:
I let the freshies go early.
Heading 2 Pour House. See u there.
The Pour House is where we often grade papers. Well, it’s where I grade papers, and he usually tries to hit on women and will occasionally gossip to me about what’s going on with the other teachers in our program.
Eli:
OMW.
Elijah’s always very cagey about his work, but considering that he was born into money and seems to be free whenever we invite him to something, I assume he doesn’t work much at all. He claims to be a private investigator but seems to work very few hours in his downtown office.
I send back an affirmative before looking up at my class. Everyone seems to have finished, so I decide to let the class out early.
Some students give little cheers of excitement after I announce that class is ending, and I bite back a smile.
Can’t let anyone see you’re a softy, Jared’s voice echoes in my head.
He’s constantly poking fun at how much of a hard-ass he thinks I am.
While I am usually trying to hold back from telling him he can’t consistently cancel class on Fridays.
Students push themselves to their feet as I collect their quizzes, filing out the door, eager to soak in some of the nice fall weather.
I start to pass by her desk, and she doesn’t look up as she reaches her hand out to give the paper to me.
Her fingers brush mine, and I swear a spark of energy zaps my fingertips where they make contact with her.
Her startled eyes meet mine, the brown catching the light so that flakes of gold appear.
She felt it too.
She bites her lower lip, and I quickly move on to the next student.
No, no, no. I will not get infatuated with a student. No matter how pretty she is, or how smart she is, or how her short skirts show off legs that seem to go on for miles. I won’t even think about her in those skirts. Even though apparently, she wears them. Every. Damn. Day.
She’s still looking after me as her friend clears his throat, startling her. Her face flushes as he gives her a knowing smile while she collects her bag. I resist the urge to grin, knowing she felt just as flustered as I momentarily had.
I plop back down at my desk as I watch her leave. Her simple black heels click across the floor, and I mentally slap myself for thinking about how they’d look with her legs wrapped around my waist.
You are not supposed to think your students are hot. That’s going to become my damn mantra for the semester.
I shoot off another text to Nikki.
How’s this weekend work for you?
Hopefully, the delusional thoughts regarding my student are just because I haven’t gotten laid in so long. She’s beautiful, sure, anyone can see that, but I just need to have a nice time with someone appropriate to get her out of my head.
I fire off a message to Jared letting him know I’ll be at the bar in fifteen minutes before I start packing up my stuff.
Summer pokes her head back in the door. “Professor Stirling?”
I jump at the sound of her soft, melodious voice. I clear my throat before speaking. “Yes, Ms. Nyx?”
She hesitantly walks up to my desk and leans against the side as I push my chair farther away from it.
She’s not leaning against it like some of my female students do, leaning across it to give a show of what’s down their shirt.
She’s leaning her hip against the side and holding her books close to her chest. She’s probably leaning against the desk because her feet are killing her from those damn shoes.
It takes everything in me not to slowly look down her bare legs at the shoes in question.
“I just had a question regarding the essay due next week?” She flicks her hair over her shoulder, and the scent of vanilla and lavender assaults my nose.
I’ve never liked lavender much, but on her it’s intoxicating.
I hold my breath and resist the urge to move closer to her to see if the scent is stronger in her hair or on her neck.
“Yes, what is it?”
“Is the length of the essay a hard ten pages? Or is there some leeway there?”
She’s one of those students, I can’t help but think as disappointment courses through me. For some reason, I had expected more of her, despite having had her as a student for only two days.
My shoulders drop with a sigh of relief. If Summer can’t handle my class, then all this could ever be is physical attraction. There’d be no intellectual intrigue. “The requirement is ten pages, Miss Nyx, nothing shorter.”
Her face flushes as she tucks some of her golden blonde hair behind her ear. She lets out a breathy laugh that has my spine straightening. “Sorry, I was wondering if it could be a bit longer?”
“Longer?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes, I’ve already started it, and I’m just worried it might end up being a bit longer than ten pages.” She sees the flabbergasted look on my face and hurries to add, “Nothing too extreme, I was just thinking it might be closer to eleven or twelve.”
I run a hand across my jaw as I chuckle.
“I’ll allow it for the first paper of the semester as long as it does not exceed twelve pages.
But don’t make a habit of this, Miss Nyx.
” I smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I do have a social life, and I don’t enjoy grading copious amounts of homework in my free time. ”
She laughs again, and it does something weird to my chest. Almost like hearing her laugh makes me want to laugh right alongside her. “I wouldn’t dream of interrupting your social engagements, sir.” She gives me a knowing smile before turning on her heel and heading back toward the door.
“Miss Nyx?” I say before I can stop myself.
“Yes, Professor?”
Some unknown feeling churns in my stomach as she looks back at me over her shoulder.
“Have a nice rest of your day.”
“You too.” She grins before leaving the classroom.
I need someone to slap me. Or for her to randomly decide she needs to transfer out of my class.
You are not supposed to think your students are hot.
I met Jared and Elijah at the bar five minutes later than expected, thanks to Summer coming back in at the last second.
“Sorry about that,” I say as I hang my jacket over the back of my favorite chair near the back of the bar. It’s located right near the pool table, so that if I ever need a quick break from grading papers, I can hop over, play a quick game, and never have to move my things.