They’d clearly arrived with time to spare. The place looked well stocked, and besides, Erin only had the one book to find. Her other credits were for her research. No textbook required for that, just many, many regular books at the library which she’d practically memorized by now.
She felt guilty for rushing Courtney out the door. It had been habit and an early-onset case of nostalgia that had her rushing over here. Four years of undergrad and two in graduate school. She would miss this place.
She trailed her finger along the cool metal shelving, feeling the harsh edge where one stopped and the next began. The school was beautifully appointed, with gorgeous oak desks and hardwood flooring. But the basement of the bookstore, where the textbooks were kept, was little more than a warehouse. Strangely, she felt most comfortable down here, strolling through towers of books.
She found the right aisle and made her way down. Ah, here it was. Quantitative and Analytical Political Science. Her last official class, not counting her research. She scanned the small printed paper. Her heart stuttered.
Dr. Blake Morris.
She read it again. That couldn’t be right. But oh God, oh God, of course it was him. The professor’s name had been left blank when she registered for the course. It wasn’t unusual. The tenured professors had their preferred courses to teach, but the adjunct staff was juggled around each semester. This was the course they’d hired him to teach. Her class. His specialty was U.S. history! She’d just assumed… Hadn’t he mentioned the Romans…? He was always talking about the Romans. She thought that would be classical history. Maybe even archeology.
Philosophy? Oh God. She was so screwed.
Her earlier words to Courtney came back to her in a sick rush. He’s not my professor. She felt like she was going to throw up all over the shiny textbooks.
In a trance, she paid for the book and stumbled outside to the curb. She stared at the loose gravel on the street, the weeds poking up between the slabs of concrete.
Courtney found her. “Hey, I looked everywhere inside.”
“Sorry.”
Her friend sat beside her. “What’s wrong, sweetie? You’re pale as…well, as I probably am right now. But that’s because my blood alcohol level is still through the roof, most likely.”
Erin forced a small smile. “It’s his class. The one he’s teaching. The one I’m taking.”
She was babbling, but Courtney got the picture. “Shit, are you serious? What are you going to do?”
Well, that was the question. Blake had signed a contract to teach this course. His reputation and professional future depended on him following through. Maybe also his sanity, considering how he’d been cooped up for so long. Not to mention all the students who would be stuck if he backed out.
And she…she needed this class to graduate. Could she put it off, wait another semester?
She hated that she was even considering delaying her graduation. Objectively she knew Blake’s situation was far more weighty and precarious. Her life would be little changed whether she graduated at the end of this summer or after the fall semester instead. But just thinking about it made her burn. She had worked too hard for this. Her mother had worked too damned hard to give her this opportunity.
Besides, she wanted desperately to be on equal footing with Blake. That could only happen once she graduated.
“Nothing,” she finally said. “I’m not going to do anything.”
Courtney stared at her. “But he’ll be your professor. Like, in the same classroom.”
“I know.”
“He’ll be grading you, Erin.”
“I know. He’ll do it fairly. He wouldn’t be able to do it any other way.”
Courtney looked dubious. “I think you’re underestimating the persuasive power of our girl parts, but let’s put that aside for a minute. You don’t think that would be a little…I don’t know, uncomfortable? He’ll be your teacher. Don’t hate me, but it’s kind of a turn-off.”
Erin almost laughed. His position was a massive turn-on for her. They’d role-played the parts a few times before. Always playful and teasing, never with any real force behind the scripted words. Even now, she imagined he would look incredibly hot standing up there, lecturing. That was one of the reasons she’d wanted him to practice on her. Except he hadn’t wanted her to see. That was the worst part. He didn’t want her to see that side of him, the real side, for one afternoon, and now she would sit in his classroom every day for six weeks. At least it was only that and not a full semester. She wasn’t sure either of them could survive three months of it.
“Look, I pushed him to do this. He didn’t want to. He did it for me. So now if he backs out and has to deal with the professional backlash, that’ll be my fault. I’ll feel horrible about that, and even if he doesn’t at first, he could wind up resenting me. Hell, he should resent me.”
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“I’m resenting you a little,” Courtney offered.
“Thanks,” Erin said drily.
“Okay, but what if he just explains that there’s a conflict of interest? Surely they won’t hold it against him if he has a good reason.”