15. Chapter 15
Chapter 15
Elijah
I t’s been three weeks since I told Rebecca to drop my class. She hasn’t, and I’m kind of happy about that. There are still days that she walks in and takes my breath away, but it’s becoming less frequent. And despite her presence in my classroom, I can focus on teaching the material.
She still sits in the back, like she’s trying to blend into the shadows. So far, she’s doing well in class. There’s been one paper and one quiz, and she scored an A on both. I do all my grading blind, having cover pages on everything. The students flip it over before handing in their assignment, so there’s no way for me to have been biased and given her extra points.
Some part of me would want to do just that. Partially because there’s still this draw to her that I can’t explain and can’t seem to cut. And partially because I still feel like an asshole for telling her to drop my class. And rudely. The fact that she stuck around shows me she’s strong, persistent, and willing to fight for what she wants. I admire that, even though I shouldn’t.
Though when it comes to Rebecca, there are still many things I shouldn’t be doing but find myself unable to stop. Like thinking about her when my mind wanders, having her eyes pull up in my mind any time I see the right shade of green, which is a far more frequent occurrence.
She’s like a plague I can’t get rid of, and sometimes, in the darkest parts of the night, I realize that I don’t actually want to be rid of her. Maybe it’s my penance for the poor choices I’ve made in life. For seducing women and ruining their lives. While I thought it was essentially being held at gunpoint and shot at, maybe this is my true punishment.
So desperately wanting the one girl I absolutely cannot have.
The thought by itself is jarring. Not only do I clearly still want her, but I absolutely should not under any circumstance. The mere fact that she’s nineteen should be enough to turn me away. Let alone that she’s also my student.
While I’ve been able to move on, my voice always falters when I call on her. Likely not enough for anyone to notice, but I always cover it by clearing my throat. There’s a waver to her voice as well, but I’m sure nobody can tell.
Before every one of her classes, I give myself a little pep talk in my office before going to class. Today is no different.
My knee bounces incessantly as I look down at my desk, forcing myself to focus on today’s notes but unable to get my head wrapped around it the right way.
Dropping my head to my hands, I run my fingers through my hair. “Get a grip, Eli. She’s too young for you. And a student. Fucking get over it.”
I mumble the same words to myself three days a week but can’t seem to accept them. Sometimes I feel like the semester is going way too slowly and that it needs to pick up for my sanity. Other times, I wish it would slow down, that weeks seem to whiz by and it’s not enough time. For what, I’m not really sure. Maybe just seeing her.
I run my hands down my cheeks, my nails scratching against my stubble and glance at the clock. “Fuck.”
So lost in my head, I didn’t notice the time. Now I’m basically late. Not a good thing for a professor to be. Some students will wait a solid thirty minutes to see if I show, which is actually school policy. Some will only wait ten. And then there are the ones that wait no more than five minutes before they leave.
Quickly, I gather my papers and practically jog down the hall to the classroom, twisting and ducking around students that are filing through the hall and on their way to one of the several classrooms.
I come to a halt outside my room and run a hand through my hair to make sure it’s in place, adjusting my tie and the lapels of my tweed jacket. A deep breath resets my pulse to a normal rhythm.
Though the weather is far more appropriate for the jacket than it was day one, I like to wear it as often as possible. Now that I’m late, I’m regretting that decision a little as sweat beads on my back.
All eyes turn to me as I jog down the amphitheater stairs. “Sorry I’m late, everyone. Thanks for staying and waiting. Good to know you enjoy my class so much you’re still here.”
A laugh flutters through the room as I set myself up at the podium.
Filtering through my papers, I sort out today’s notes from the papers I have to hand back. In the process, I make the mistake of looking to Rebecca’s corner.
Though it’s really only a mistake because she’s smiling with a pen against her bottom lip and it makes my heart jump.
A quick shake of my head and I’m back to task. “These”— I hold up the graded papers— “were mostly well written. I do have to stress the mostly. It’s clear some of you do not have a firm grasp on microeconomics yet. I’d ensure you do more studying before midterms. Review the notes, read the textbook. Even get together with somebody who did better than you did.”
Even though the papers are submitted electronically, I like to grade them on paper, so I print them out and make corrections. Part of me feels like the red marks make the mistakes pop. But really, I think it’s just a nod to the old school way of doing things. The way it was when I was in school.
“These will be up front for you to grab at the end of class.” I hold up the stack and then drop it onto the front table that sits next to the podium. There’s not much purpose for it these days, but I’m glad it’s here.
“Alright.” I clap my hands and rub them together. “Today, we’re going to start talking about—”
A blaring alarm fills the room, and the emergency lights flash at the back of the room and out in the hall. The students all look around before packing up their belongings and making their way out.
But I’m frozen in place. The sound was so sudden and so loud, it kicked my pulse into overdrive, and I’m completely incapable of moving my body.
This is not good.