Chapter 16 #2
“This is you being professional?” he asks sternly, but doesn’t allow me to answer.
“I have years of experience, Ms. Haywood. This class was booked solid within twenty minutes of its opening on the school website.” He steps away from the desk, but his arms stay crossed.
“My job is to be harsh when needed, constructive when needed, and to give compliments to students who work their assess off.”
“Can I quote you on that?” I smirk, hiding how my body shakes in response to the tone of his voice.
Grayson steps forward and chuckles darkly. “On that, yes, you may, but what I’m about to say now is off the fucking record.”
He takes another step toward me, then another, as I stand frozen in place. My breaths quicken, and I feel the urge to run, but his gaze keeps me rooted.
“I will never do what you just accused me of.”
“And what did I accuse you of, exactly?”
His lips go straight, and now he’s only three feet away from me. “Letting my personal feelings get in the way of my job.”
My throat goes dry as there are only two feet between us. “And what personal feelings are those?”
He remains silent as he leaves about half a foot of space between us. My four-inch heels make me five-foot-four, standing next to his six-foot-three frame, allowing me to see him clearly.
Grayson raises a hand, and I follow it until he brushes my loose hair over my shoulder and leans down so his lips are near my ear. A sharp breath escapes me, and his woodsy scent surrounds me.
“The next time you come into my kitchen and try my students’ food, tie your hair into a bun. The last thing I want is a stray long blonde hair near the food I taste.”
He runs his fingers through my hair one more time and stands straight.
The heat building in my core turns into fury. If he weren’t someone I was interviewing, I’d slap him in the face for talking to me this way. Embarrassing me on purpose, making me think this is all in my head when he proved the opposite last week and now.
Grayson smirks slightly, and I clutch my notebook tighter than before.
“Until next time, Emma.”
He gathers his belongings and walks away. I only take a deep breath after he leaves the classroom.
Um, what?
He never answered my question, and not only did he avoid it, but he also insulted me.
I will not take that lying down. It’s been weeks of me walking on eggshells to make sure I don’t piss him off, and there’s still over a month left of this project. Things can’t stay the same, I won’t allow it.
I run to the spot where he left and open the doors that lead to the faculty and student parking. His car is the only one remaining in the lot, and he still hasn’t left. In fact, he’s just now rounding the vehicle to reach the driver’s seat.
“Professor Hayes!” I shout, but he doesn’t hear me.
I start jogging as quickly as I can in these heels.
“Grayson!” I call even louder as he opens the door to his truck.
He meets my eyes, and they widen in confusion.
I’m only a few feet away when the heel of my left shoe snaps, and I almost fall sideways, catching myself just in time.
Squealing, I partially regain my balance, and a couple of seconds later, Grayson is by my side helping me.
“Fuck, Emma. Are you okay?”
Looking down at the heel that snapped off, I frown, more disappointed that my favorite Louboutins broke than the fact that I almost fell.
“I’m fine. It’s happened once before, but that time I did fall.”
“Why the hell were you chasing me in those heels?”
Forgetting my shoes for a moment, I turn my head, with anger still burning hot in me.
“Because you avoided my question. Because you’re avoiding me again.
The only exceptions are when you nearly made me fall twice now and when you had too much to drink last week,” I spit.
“What is your deal, Grayson? It’s been weeks, and you’ve been sending me nothing but mixed signals.
” He stares at me with another neutral expression.
I push his hand that’s on me away. “We still have over a month of being stuck together, not including this weekend when I’m visiting your soup kitchen, so what the fuck is your damage? ”
Grayson runs a hand through his brown hair and turns around, his shoulders slumping.
“Let me walk you to your car,” is all he says.
Trying to dodge the question again. “Answer me, Grayson.”
“Where’s your car, Emma?” he grits out, his back still facing me.
I bite my lip to contain my frustrated scream. “I don’t have one.”
He finally turns. “I’ll drive you then.”
I laugh loudly. “I’d rather call a cab, thanks.” If he’s going to avoid the question after I push him the way I did, then fine, but I’d much rather take a cab home. I’d call Jake, but his car is at the shop getting something done.
“Don’t be stubborn.” He sighs.
I lift an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.” But he has a point. It’s Thursday night, and the taxi company in town isn’t nearby. It could take twenty minutes of waiting in a dark parking lot.
Shit.
“Fine.” I remove both heels and walk barefoot, sparing him no further glance.
Once we get to the car, I open the door and notice how tall the vehicle is compared to my height.
Why did he need a pickup truck? Granted, it’s nice and all—
Two hands lift me by my waist and guide me to the seat of the truck. I put a foot in, then the other, and he lets go. Clearing my throat, I give him a quick “Thanks.”
As he rounds the car, I take a moment to look inside. It’s a nice four-door pickup truck with black leather seats. It’s comfortable and still has that new car smell. As nice as it is, I wouldn’t have pegged him for a pickup truck kind of guy.
Grayson opens the door and settles in as he starts the car.
As soon as it roars to life, a radio host’s voice starts talking about the current top pop songs in the country.
I don’t like this radio station, it has more commercials than others. Luckily, I only have to tolerate it for six minutes.
“Which dorm is yours?” he asks quietly.
I keep staring straight. “Astor Hall.”
He doesn’t reply as “WILDFLOWER” by Billie Eilish plays quietly.
Looking out the window, I relax. My heels rarely break, and I see this as a sign to stop trying to get answers from the man sitting next to me.
We’ve seen each other five times since July, two were in informal settings, and two ended in an inappropriate conversation.
This is why I avoid nights like the one in London.
Not that I expected him to be a professor at my school, but every time I try to have fun with a guy, it never ends the way I want or need.
If only we had never run into each other again, that night could’ve stayed perfect, and the image of him could’ve remained just the way it was.
“You have a nice voice,” Grayson says while pulling into the parking lot of my dorm.
I hadn’t noticed that I’d begun singing.
“Thank you, and thanks for the ride.” I don’t move, and I close my eyes.
Part of me is screaming not to do this, while another part tells me it’s for the best. “I’m going to ask my editor to let someone else take over the article.
It’ll probably be the one who should have gotten it in the first place.
” I gather my shoes and the broken heel, feeling defeated about having to give the feature to Samantha.
She doesn’t deserve it, but she’ll get the answers without the conflict of interest. “She’s one of the best.”
“Emma—”
“Thank you again, Professor Hayes. For the ride and the opportunity.” I reach for the door handle as the locks sound. Turning my head, I meet Grayson’s intense stare.
“Don’t ask your editor for that,” he says sternly, but this time I notice a hint of sadness behind his voice.
“Wouldn’t you like something and someone simpler?” I ask, confused as to why he isn’t considering my offer.
He shakes his head. “Visit the soup kitchen before you change your mind.”
“I don’t know if that’s going to make a difference—”
His fingers grip my chin, and although his eyes are tough, there’s a hint of vulnerability and a kind of longing reflected in his gaze.
Grayson leans over, not close enough to kiss me, but close enough to make a statement.
“I’m sorry for being an asshole.” He closes his eyes briefly before returning to normal.
His tone stays neutral but honest. “I don’t want you to lose this opportunity, especially not to the person who did what they did at the restaurant. ”
Swallowing harshly, I assess him. “Only if you promise never to pull something as you did with Leo again. We don’t have room for jealousy here,” I say. His eyes flare with frustration. “He’s also your student,” I emphasize, but what I really mean is I’m not yours to claim.
He nods. “You have my word.”
“And I want to bring a friend with me to the soup kitchen.”
He seems surprised by my request, but I think bringing one of the guys will help me stay focused on my work more than him.
Grayson looks at my lips before backing away from me. “Okay.”
Swallowing loudly, I unlock the door and gently jump out of the car, not wanting to do something I’ll regret later.
Giving him one last glance, I throw the heavy door open and walk to the side entrance of my dorm, unlocking it with my ID.
Grayson’s car doesn’t move until I’m safely inside, feeling dizzy and as confused as ever.