But a familiar face sitting on a bench not far from the doorway stopped me cold. A handful of students walked past, blocking my view, making me panic, because I was sure the vision would be gone when they passed. I told myself my paranoia was getting to me too much today. But after the students moved on, he still sat there, waiting.
For me.
My knees buckled and I had to clutch the wall to support myself. I froze, not sure what to do.
I could scream and run. I could approach him boldly. I could silently try to slip away, hiding behind clusters of people.
But I just stood there, staring at my psycho stalker ex-boyfriend as he leered back with one of his infamous gloating smirks.
“Found you,” he mouthed the words so clearly I could actually read what he said.
I turned away from him, planning to stride off, even though I knew that wouldn’t get me far. But then the worst thing possible happened.
Mason appeared, messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he approached his next class. He grinned when he saw me, a warm, private smile that held all the secrets of our weekend passion.
Oh, God. I loved him so much. I could not let Jeremy near him. Jeremy would kill him if he knew how important Mason was to me.
But nothing was going to stop either guy from approaching.
As Jeremy stood, I reacted before my brain could fully process what I was planning. I hurried to Mason. “Professor McGonagall,” I gasped. “Thank God I ran into you.”
Yes, I know I used a Harry Potter character for him, and a female one at that. But it wasn’t as if I had a whole lot of a time to concoct a foolproof strategy. I was working straight from the hip here. And doing just fine if you ask me.
Besides, Jeremy had never once cared about my Harry Potter craze. He wouldn’t know the difference. The clueless Muggle.
Rushing to unzip my bag, I said, “I know it was due last Friday, but I finished my paper and I would really appreciate it if you’d reconsider accepting it late.”
As I yanked my graded Wife of Bath essay from my bag—which had received an A; boo yah!—I finally dared to look up into Mason’s face.
Biting the inside of my lip, I prayed he would play along.
He blinked once, okay, twice. Then he said, “I told you no late assignments, Miss Randall.”
God, I loved him. He fell right into line with my act perfectly. Then again, by the amused twinkle in his eyes, he probably thought this was some kind of kinky naughty schoolgirl foreplay.
“But I worked on it all weekend.” The little hitch in my voice—because I was all keyed up about seeing Jeremy—sounded classic. Hmm. Maybe I should drop virology completely and take up acting.
Mason lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “All weekend, hmm?” The twist of his lips told me he knew otherwise. “On a paper you were supposed to be working on all semester?”
Jeez, did he have to play it quite this good?
I almost glowered at him. But I was still too freaked out about my psycho stalker ex hovering a mere ten feet away, listening to every word we said.
“Please,” I rasped, the fear filtering through me until his expression finally sparked with concern. “Could you just give it a look?”
He nodded with a resigned sigh. “Okay, fine. But this is the last time I’ll make allowances for you.”
When he tried to take the paper from me, I jerked it back. “Wait. I…I need to sign my name.”
My hands shook so hard that when I fumbled my way into my backpack, a tear actually dripped from my cheek.
Mason had mercy on me. “Here,” he said, holding out his own pen, his brows wrinkling as if he was finally figuring out this was not a playful, bantering game.
“Thanks.” I took it from him and lifted my knee to scribble Jer is here right below where my name was already typed onto the sheet.
I handed it to him and he barely glanced over what I’d written.
“I see.” His eyes flashed to me. “You know, maybe we should go to my office and discuss this in more detail. I have an idea how you can make up some extra credit points.”