Chapter 13 #2
We strolled down the hallway in silence, and once we approached the double doors, he held them open for me.
He did it again when we reached the lab.
I had no experience with dating and had never been escorted by a man in this manner— holding doors, motioning for me to go first, walking leisurely beside me even though his strides were longer.
He was a busy man, but the patience he exercised around me was… sweet.
Ugh.
Why was I referring to my dating life in the same thought as a professor? The two weren’t related. It was as if my mind had been jumbled since Sophie told me about this man’s childhood.
The lab looked like a ghost town when we returned. The cake box was on the same steel counter, the microscopes were left unattended, and the beakers were in the same spots as before. It seemed the staff were chased out before they could put the equipment away.
Did he kick them out immediately after I ran away, and then track me down?
Professor Maxwell grabbed the cake box and led us to the break room attached to the lab. He motioned for me to sit while he fetched plates and forks.
I sat at a booth, marveling at the sophisticated room.
Although small, it was chic with three tufted booths and a marble island in the middle.
The surface of the island was filled with amenities: a microwave, toaster, coffee machine, mini fridge, soda machine, and a caddy with all types of snacks.
There was also a lounge area with two sofas.
Every crevice was designed for use. Shelves were smartly built into the walls and stacked with plates to eliminate the need for a cabinet.
There was no entertainment center; instead, the television was hung on the wall.
Professor Maxwell opened the box to cut the cake.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I did the thing I wasn’t known for—I babbled.
“I didn’t know what type of cake you liked.
” It dawned on me that I didn’t know his preferences and whether he liked desserts, let alone this flavor.
“I picked a generic flavor —yellow cake with hazelnut frosting and chocolate ganache on top. It also has a strawberry jam filling.”
The knife stopped midway. “Oh.”
“Something wrong?”
Clear, blue eyes found mine. He stared at me for a beat before replying, “No.”
He served us each a slice and then claimed the seat next to mine. I watched as he took a bite. He was impassive as ever with no reaction to spare.
I took a few bites of the cake, too, though I couldn’t taste anything over my hyperactive brain.
I had an obnoxious fantasy that I would somehow heal his childhood trauma with one simple gesture.
But now, the cake seemed ostentatious, and I thanked my lucky stars for not writing, Happy Birthday! in big, bold letters.
“Am I in trouble?” I finally blurted.
Another illegible expression crossed his face. “Why would you be in trouble?”
“Because…” Unsure how to voice the question, I trailed off and gestured at the spread in front of us—plates, forks, knives, and the giant cake.
Why was he indulging me?I had crossed major student-teacher boundaries tonight. I internally cringed, remembering how his research assistants had reacted when I walked through the doors.
“Breathe, Little Rose. You’re not in trouble.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled with a heavy sigh.
“You’re thanking me?”He sounded charmed. It warmed my heart, and I could only hope he would behave this way more often. Maybe then his friends wouldn’t be too scared to surprise him on his birthday. “Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”
For once, Professor Maxwell was being easygoing and chummy, teasing me even. This carefree version of him was so rare that all I could do was stare and bank the memory. He looked younger when he joked around. And he looked beautiful when he smiled.
My back straightened as soon as the thought popped into my head.
His assistants already thought I was trying to seduce him.
The cake, the late hour, my inappropriate outfit—the evidence was piling up against me.
The last thing I should have done was stare at him or entertain inappropriate thoughts.
Professor Maxwell loathed attention from female students.
If he had the slightest inkling I was coming on to him—which I wasn’t—he would force the university to expel me like he had done with many before.
I needed to excuse myself before I became another cautionary tale.
I dabbed the corner of my lips with the napkin he had laid out. “It’s getting late. I should get going.”
His eyes drifted to my exposed legs when I stood, lingering there for a few seconds.
This had to be in my head. None of this could possibly be real.
My overactive imagination was making me think he was flirting with me and checking me out when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Everyone knew Professor Maxwell turned off his libido at work.
Any woman to try and turn it on suffered his wrath.
Still, he seemed reluctant to end the night. “Let’s have another slice.”
I glanced at his plate. He had barely eaten the first one. “I’m full.”
“Then I’ll take you home.”
Oh, God no.
I was mortified by my actions and overactive imagination. All I wanted was to hide from him, not extend our time together. “That’s okay, I brought my car. Good night, Professor Maxwell,” I said quickly and turned on my heel, desperate to get away from him.
The universe had other plans. The break room door refused to open when I pulled on it. After a few seconds of struggling with the door, I realized I had to push to open it, not pull.
As if the night hadn’t been humiliating enough, I was now the stupid girl who couldn’t open a door in front of the smartest human being I had ever met. I felt his eyes burning a hole in my back, probably laughing at me.
With a sense of urgency, I burst through the door. When I turned to shut it, I caught him staring at me through the door lite.
It turned out that I was wrong. He wasn’t laughing at me. No, Professor Maxwell didn’t seem the slightest bit amused.
Instead, he was staring at me with such intensity that I had to consciously remind myself to keep breathing.