10. Karolina
KAROLINA
One Week Later
“Have you heard from Rich?” Amala asks me when we walk out of the quiet library.
I try to smother a grimace of revulsion at the creepy boy’s name.
“No, I haven’t,” I reply. “I noticed he wasn’t in class this week, but I figured he’s sick or something.”
Truthfully, I’ve been relieved not to see him after his sloppy kiss in my kitchen last weekend.
My new friend’s eyes are tight with concern. “I texted him earlier in the week to see if he wanted to share my notes from his missed classes but didn’t hear anything back. I’m worried.”
I flick my fingers in dismissal. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he’s been out partying too much.”
He hasn’t seemed particularly concerned about our course. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decides to drop out and go back home to be a caretaker for his family’s estate. He was quick enough to brag about his dad’s wealth.
Amala bites her lower lip. “I don’t know. Some of us went to karaoke last night, and he didn’t answer the invite to that either. He hasn’t even posted on social media.”
“I didn’t realize you were so close to him,” I remark, trying to read the situation.
Given the fact that he made a move on me, I assumed there wasn’t a romantic connection between them. But if he’s been flirting with her, I should probably warn her about his drunken behavior.
“We’re not that close,” she replies. “But he knows one of my housemates from undergrad. They introduced me to him over the summer, so I spent some time with him before term started. It’s weird that he’s ignoring my texts.”
I take a moment to consider. Amala is a kind young woman. I won’t tell her about his inappropriate behavior unless I think she’s at risk.
And I’m not ready to create a closer bond of friendship by confessing that Rich freaked me out with his advances.
I decide to make light of it. “Maybe Rich just couldn’t stand another lecture with Professor Asshole this week, and that’s why we haven’t seen him on campus.”
Amala offers me a weak smile. “Maybe. Professor Hirst hasn’t been as bad since that icebreaker, though.”
I flip my hair over my shoulder. “First impressions matter. He chose to be a dick as his introduction to our class.”
She nods her agreement. “That’s true. He could’ve been nicer to us.”
That’s putting it mildly. Amala really is too sweet.
In our two lectures with him since then, Professor Hirst has made sure to ask me pointed questions. More than any other student, like he’s trying to catch me out or something.
I guess I struck a nerve when I challenged him that first day.
Too bad for him, I come to class prepared. I haven’t failed to correctly answer a single one of his questions.
“I need to go to the shop for food,” Amala says as we near the center of town. “Do you want to come with me?”
“That’s okay, but thanks.” I’ve already allocated my meager budget for the week. “I’ll be back at the library tomorrow if you want to join me?”
She smiles. “That sounds great. It’s good to have a study buddy on the course.” A shadow of her earlier worry flits over her face. “Will you let me know if you hear from Rich?”
“Sure,” I agree. “But I doubt he’ll contact me. I don’t think he likes the library as much as we do.”
She laughs softly. “He does seem to like a pint more than books. Maybe he has been skiving off this week.”
“It’s really good of you to check up on him,” I say sincerely. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
The handsy boy doesn’t deserve this sweet girl’s concern, but I decide not to elaborate.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She heads off in the direction of the shop.
I resume my walk towards my apartment building on the other side of town. I’m so intent on appreciating the stunning, ancient architecture that I trip over a loose paving stone.
Strong hands gently grasp my shoulders, righting me before I can fall.
I whirl, jerking away from the masculine contact.
Professor Hirst is standing in front of me, lips pinched in disapproval. “Are you okay?”
My hackles go up. “I fine.”
His eyes flick over me, as though assessing if I’m steady on my feet. “You should watch where you’re going.”
I gape at him. Is he for real?
“I just tripped. I didn’t need your help.”
It’s completely inappropriate that my professor just touched me so casually. And he seems weirdly annoyed at me when he’s the one who chose to make contact.
His brows lift. “Would you prefer to be on your arse right now?”
I stiffen and say coolly, “No need to worry about me. I’m sure you’re busy.”
We’re near King’s Manor, so he must be on his way there.
“I’ve finished work for the afternoon,” he replies smoothly. “Just in time to stop you from tumbling into a puddle, it seems.”
He sighs and offers me a rueful smile. For a moment, I’m too breathless for a retort.
Professor Hirst is gorgeous, and it’s hard to remember that he’s an asshole when he appears so insanely charming. He even has a disarming little dimple in his left cheek.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says. “I’m really not that much of an arsehole.”
My cheeks heat.
Oh, god.
Surely, he doesn’t know about my nickname for him.
But he confirms the awful truth when he chuckles, “Your classmates aren’t exactly discrete. I know what you all call me.”
“Oh.” I want to sink into the pavement, but I manage to keep my head high and apologize. “Sorry about that. You were really rude to me, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
He runs a hand through his wavy caramel hair, a beautiful example of masculine chagrin. “If I was hard on you, it’s only because I want you to succeed.”
After a second too long, I manage to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Are you sure it isn’t about your ego?” I counter, emboldened by his familiar tone.
It’s probably a bit reckless, but he feels more like a guy my age than my uptight professor right now.
“I know this is your first year as a lecturer after your PhD. You don’t have to be confrontational with us to prove yourself. ”
He releases a low hum. “Maybe a bit of both. I can have an ego and want to see my students succeed.”
What a self-deprecating response.
I take a moment to consider him. He’s only a couple years older than me; he’s young and probably feels pressure to earn our respect. It doesn’t excuse his behavior during the icebreaker, but he does seem contrite.
“Do you accept my apology?” he asks.
“Have you apologized?” I reply blandly.
It’s far too easy to talk to him this way. Something about him tempts me to stay engaged when I should walk away.
Or it’s just that he’s insanely hot, and even though I don’t date, I’m still human. Anyone would struggle to resist his allure.
He grins. “I’m so sorry for being a dick to you, Lena.”
I nod and attempt a breezy tone. “Apology accepted. And I really am sorry about the nickname.”
His laugh is rich and melodic. “I think it’s too late for that. I’m Professor Arsehole now.”
At least he has a sense of humor about it.
“But I accept your apology too,” he adds. “I’ve been called far worse.”
Before I can come up with a reply, two wet paws hit my knees. I glance down and find that an adorable cocker spaniel puppy has decided I’m a new friend.
“Sorry about him,” the woman holding his leash says, but I’m not at all perturbed.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” I exclaim, my heart melting. “Can I pet him?”
She beams at me. “Sure.”
I crouch down and extend a hand. The little dog’s short tail wags madly.
“What’s your name?” I coo as I scratch behind his ears.
“Carson,” his owner says.
“Hello, Carson!” My voice goes higher, like I’m talking to a baby. “Aren’t you a handsome boy with your black spots? Yes, you are!”
I glance up at Professor Hirst, who’s looking at me like I’m some sort of strange creature he’s never seen before.
“Don’t you like dogs?” I ask.
His crooked smile takes my breath away. “Not as much as you do, apparently.”
He lowers himself beside me, so Carson can give him a good sniff. The puppy is wary for a few seconds, then allows him to brush the top of his furry head.
Apparently, Carson decides he’s a good human, because he flops down and offers his belly for scritches.
“You’ve been chosen.” I laugh.
Professor Hirst looks slightly bemused, but he dutifully pets the dog. Carson’s tail swishes against the damp pavement in his excitement.
“Sorry, we need to get home,” the owner says, a polite indication for us to disengage.
Professor Hirst reluctantly withdraws and gets to his feet. His small frown of disappointment is far too adorable for such a big man.
“Bye, Carson!” I call after the puppy as he trots off.
“That was cute,” Professor Hirst remarks.
“I know!” I enthuse. “His paws are so big for his little body. And his ears! Too cute.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dog, but yes, he was pretty sweet.”
He’s looking at me intently.
“Have you ever had a dog?” I babble inanely to cover the strange moment.
“No. I’ve never had pets.”
I shoot him a sly smile. “You did a good job with the belly rubs for someone inexperienced. Carson approved.”
“I’d rather have your approval. Does this mean I’m forgiven for being hard on you in class?”
I dare to banter with him. “That depends. Are you going to change your ways?”
“Definitely not.”
“What a shame for your poor students.”
“There’s only one student’s opinion I value right now.”
I tear my gaze from his and attempt a breezy tone. “I can answer any difficult questions you throw at me. You don’t have to make things easy for me.”
“No, I can see that you’re perfectly capable. You’re the brightest person in your program.”
I flush at the praise. It’s surreal after thinking he didn’t respect me at all.
“It’s a demanding course. I’m sure everyone who earned their place here is intelligent.”
He shakes his head. “I saw your grades and your essays. You’re the best student we have.”
“I intend to succeed,” I say instead of directly answering his positive assessment. “I take my studies seriously, no matter what you think about my author aspirations.”
He shrugs. “I simply don’t think you need a higher degree in History to do that.”
I eye him carefully. He’s doesn’t sound like he’s being rude, even if his words are a bit dismissive.
“I plan to teach when I get my MA,” I elaborate. “I know I’ll need a job to pay the bills while I write my novels.”
“Ah. That’s very pragmatic of you.”
“I thought so,” I agree coolly.
I don’t think he’s a dick anymore, but he’s still kind of patronizing.
“I should go,” I announce, realizing I’ve lingered too long in this odd conversation with my professor. “I have reading to do.”
“Watch your step this time, won’t you?” He reminds me of how I almost fell on my ass before he steadied me.
I struggle not to roll my eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of walking home without your instruction, Professor.”
He chuckles, and the sound does something funny to my insides.
“I’ll see you in class.” He says it like a promise.
I give him an awkward wave and turn on my heel to hide my flushed cheeks.
Before this weird encounter, I’d struggled not to glower at him during our lectures. Now I’m not sure how I’ll keep myself from blushing if he turns that devastating smile on me again.
He’s far too hot to be a professor. It shouldn’t be allowed.