Teaching Tucker (Face-Off Legacy/Campus Kings 3)

I prefer to live my life and not sweat the dumb shit. But he’s right. I need to find another tutor or find a way to win Sam over.

Chapter Eight

Sam

I’m wearing my most promising skirt and blazer, dressed as professionally as I can afford. I look smart. I look like a capable teaching assistant. Now, I have to convince Professor Steven Frazier that I’m worth his time. Because I need this job.

On my way through campus, I stopped at Broad Street Beans for a free coffee, one of the few perks of the job, but the caffeine is barely helping to keep my eyes open. I’m exhausted after staying up all night to help Eden write her article for the Strickland Gazette.

In heels and a black pencil skirt, I feel like a professional. Keeping my fingers crossed, I hope this interview goes well, and that I’ll land my first real teaching job. Well, I won’t be teaching the class per se, but I will be doing a lot of the work on behalf of the professor.

When the teaching assistant slot in the Franklin School of Law at Strickland University opened up, I applied immediately. A few days later, I received a call from Professor Frazier. He’s the department chair and one of the most respected lawyers in the state. Teaching wasn’t my first choice, but it beats making lattes for eight bucks an hour.

Strolling into Franklin Hall, I lose my balance when a group of students push open the doors moving toward me. The girls laugh and roll their eyes in my direction as if I were the one who inconvenienced them. I use the wall next to me for support. I’m not used to wearing heels. This pair, in particular, is reserved for funerals or weddings and now job interviews. I should have worn flats. My feet are killing me.

“Samantha,” a deep, manly voice says from behind me. “Or do you prefer Sam now?” His voice sends a shiver down my spine, and I know without looking who it belongs to. Tucker Kane. I would know his voice anywhere.

Ignoring him, I walk faster creating some distance between us when a classroom empties into the hall. I can’t deal with him today of all days. Not when I’m about to interview for the most important position of my college career.

“You never answered my messages,” Tucker says. “I don’t like being ignored… or taken advantage of.”

I snort, shooting him a pointed look. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Even though I played it off when he said he didn’t want more than sex, I thought back then he’d at least want to see me again. It was stupid, a foolish mistake made by a girl with a crush. I don’t know what I expected of him, but I wanted something, anything. A sign he even remembered me.

I so eagerly gave him my virginity instead of treating it as something of value. After I handed it over, I realized I wanted my first time to be special. With someone special. Instead, I got a hard fuck in a frat house from the biggest manwhore on campus.

He’d moved on to the next girl within days, his victims discarded one after the other. Because that’s what rich, entitled womanizers do with women. They use and dispose of them like trash. At least they do in my experience. And I want nothing more than to be rid of Tucker fucking Kane right now.

“Go away, Tucker,” I growl, unable to meet his gaze.

I can feel him watching me, studying my every move. “Not until you explain why you’re ignoring me.”

I tilt my head back and laugh. The irony of this situation is not lost on me. Fucking prick asshole. “I don’t owe you a thing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m on my way to an interview.”

“You look good,” he says, and my inner bitch softens. I turn my head for a split second to see him staring at me. “Good luck with your interview, Sam.”

And then, he does something unexpected. He actually walks away, giving up much faster than I had anticipated. I should feel relieved. Instead, I’m somewhat disappointed.

Did I want him to fight me? Make a scene? No, not at all. He’s the last person I need in my life. I have enough shit to deal with.

By the time I find Professor Frazier’s office, his secretary ushers me inside and announces, “Samantha Marchand is here,” as I step inside.

Professor Frazier looks up from his computer, a delighted smile on his withered face. “Perfect timing. I was just finishing up with my latest article for the law review.” He holds out his hand to the row of chairs in front of his long oak desk. “Have a seat, Samantha.”

I do as he says, my nerves wreaking havoc through me, my hands so sweaty I have to casually wipe them down the front of my skirt.