“He flaunted societal mores at every turn,” Dave Armstrong, a fellow education major and a young man Morgan had grown to respect over her college years, chimed in.
Cal’s gaze bounced from student to student as comments volleyed back and forth, kind of like he was watching a tennis match. And then his gaze landed on her.
On any other day, she might have joined in the debate. Today it hadn’t seemed to matter a hell of a lot.
“Morgan? Was Huck a hero?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“He did what he thought was right even if it went against the social mores of the time. Those of us lucky enough to read Twain now can learn from Huck’s choices.”
“You’re saying he was bad for good reason,” Bella said from across the room.
Maybe. Or he’d been good and no one had seen it.
Others jumped in. Talked about the type of people we want living among us. Those who lead. And those who follow. Those who challenge the status quo and set trends. Cal watched the debate.
Morgan watched Cal.
Most of her classmates, minus the jerkoid with the headphones on, were engaged in the discussion. A couple spoke among themselves. No one was sleeping.
But Morgan wanted to sleep with her professor.
* * *
CAL WAS PLANNING to get a word in with Morgan after class Wednesday. He couldn’t keep calling her up to his office, but he wanted to make certain that she knew he was there to support her through her struggles for as long as she needed him. He’d taken her on and he wasn’t going to desert her.
He wasn’t a therapist, but teachers often found themselves in a position of trust. He’d be there for any of his students who came to speak with him.
Besides, Morgan didn’t need another therapist. She needed a friend. And he wanted to be that friend as much as he could be, considering their teacher-student relationship.
She was taking longer than usual to gather up her things after class. Waiting for him, he surmised. He was glad.
Bella, who always seemed to be the last to leave, finally exited the classroom. And then, in his peripheral vision, he saw Kelsey Barber hovering in the doorway.
“Cal?” she called out softly. She was dressed in white gauze from her ankles to her neck, her arms and shoulders bare and tanned to a freckleless golden brown. Her deep red hair flowed in natural curls down her back.
“Yeah! Kelsey, come on in.” She was attractive. Natural and a little wild, she was just his type of woman.
The free-spirited type.
“I’m on my way to the kiln—timer’s about ready to go off—but I just wanted to ask if we could change tomorrow night to seven-thirty instead of seven? I have a student who needs to meet with me after she gets off work.”
Morgan could hear. Which made him inexplicably tense. And more eager than ever to lock in time with Kelsey. “Seven-thirty’s fine,” he said.
“Good.” Her smile held a promise he wanted to explore. “If you’d like, we could head over to my loft rather than having to sit in a busy restaurant and listen to the buzz of other conversations. I make a decent lasagna.”
He’d asked her about Italian food the first time he’d called her.
“That sounds great,” he said. And meant it.
He wanted to spend time with Kelsey. To get to know her.
He wanted to talk to Morgan, too. But by the time he turned back to her, she was gone, the back door of the classroom closing quietly behind her.
* * *