Comfort Zone (Awkward Love 4)

Professor Sullivan: I’m surprised you can walk.I stiffen and stare at the message before quickly typing back

Me: Of course I can. I didn’t drink that much

Professor Sullivan: I wasn’t referring to the alcohol…I look up and meet his eyes, my heart racing when he winks at me. I snap my head back down. What the hell? He winked at me? I shake my head, my heart thumping in my chest, because I have no idea if what he’s suggesting happened.

Did I do something?

God, did we do something?

Or maybe he’s just trying to wind me up…If that’s his game, it’s working.

I finish my test before time is up, but I sit there and stare at my sheet, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I hate feeling like this; not knowing if something happened or not. I shake my head. I need to stop thinking about it, or it’s going to drive me crazy.

The moment he calls time, I rise from my seat and hurry over to the door, half expecting him to call out my name.

“Becca. Can I please see you for a moment?”

I freeze and then turn around, smiling at him as I approach his desk. He looks surprised, like he expected me to bolt out of there or pretend I hadn’t heard him.

“Yes, Professor Sullivan?” I ask, pouting my lips slightly.

“I…” He coughs, and I smother a giggle. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay after the other night.” His eyes lock on mine, daring me to look away, but I stare right back at him. Hell, I’m pretty sure I even just smized. Tyra Banks would be proud of that shit.

“I’m fine,” I say. “How could I not be, after what happened?”

I don’t really know what I’m doing at this point, other than digging a deeper hole for myself, but I’ve committed now, so I have to follow through.

“So you remember what happened, then?” He looks impressed.

“Remember?” I laugh and look down, pretending to be shy. “How could I not remember…that happening?” I push a strand of hair behind my ear and smile at him. “How do you feel about it?”

He looks surprised by my question, but then he smiles.

“It was unusual, but you seemed happy, so I’d say go for it,” he says. “It’s a pretty big commitment though, so make sure it’s something you feel ready for.”

“Oh I will,” I assure him. “And on that note, I’d better go…and think about it.”

I strut toward the door, turning back to wink at him when I reach it.

“Good night, Professor Sullivan…”Chapter SevenLiamI shake my head, unable to wipe the smirk off my lips. She has no idea of what happened Friday night. If she did, I don’t think that would have been her reaction. She was quite sassy for someone who, just a little over forty-eight hours earlier, had been…I let out a laugh. It doesn’t even feel right thinking it. I’m embarrassed for her.

I gather my things and stand up, preparing to leave for the morning to grade the exams I didn’t get around to marking on the weekend. Lucky for me, I have most of the day free. I close my briefcase and then walk toward the door, looking up when I hear someone clear their throat. It’s the president of the university, Daniel Michaels.

“Liam. Can I have a word with you, please?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have much choice,” I respond dryly.

“We always have choices. It’s just recognizing the importance of making the right one.”

I smile at my father—who also happens to be my boss.

Another backhanded dig at the fact that I’d gone into teaching, rather than practicing veterinary medicine. You think my own father would be pleased that I’d followed his legacy into academics, but apparently not.

“Like your choice to screw over my mother was a good one?” I say lightly.

“Really, Liam?” He frowns at me. “You know that’s a complicated situation, and one I don’t think is appropriate being discussed here—”

“You’re lecturing me on appropriate workplace behavior?” I laugh. “You take every opportunity to dig into me the fact that I went into academics rather than science, when none of that has anything to do with you as my employer. You only have an interest as my father.”

“Because I invested a fucking fortune into your tuition.”

“Again, I’m paying you back every last cent,” I mutter.

If only so you can’t hold that over my head any longer.

“I’m sorry, unless you have a question about something relating to my employment here—”

“I do, actually,” he says in a cool voice. “I’m advising you that you need to meet the requirement for professional development if you wish to be considered for this role next year.” He pauses. “You also have less than six weeks to fulfill that requirement or I’ll have to reconsider your offer to teach here next year.