Fake Marriage Box Set

I looked up and saw Ian walking out of the building. He appeared lost in thought. Probably wondering what kind of crybaby freak he had working as his assistant.

Chapter Eleven

Ian

“Hey, Professor,” one of my students said, as he walked into the classroom.

“Good morning,” I replied, unable to remember his name. I should have known it by now and promised myself I would, eventually.

As usual, the kid headed straight for the desk where Tessa sat. She stood, hugged him, and laughed when he swatted her ass. All of the young men in the class seemed to have a crush on her. It really pissed me off. They trotted after her, begging for her attention. It was disgusting.

“Good morning, Professor Dunlap,” my self-proclaimed favorite student said, standing about three inches in front of me.

“Hi, Jennie. How are you?” I asked, hoping to distract myself from the little gathering occurring in the corner.

Jennie said something, but I didn’t hear. My attention was drawn to Tessa and what looked to be her fan club. The sun was streaming through the windows, highlighting her blonde hair. She looked angelic. I half-expected a halo to appear above her head. I couldn’t move my eyes away, even though I knew I should. If she or any one of the students caught me staring, it would be bad. If they called me on it, my job would be in jeopardy.

“Professor?” Jennie said, bringing me back to her.

“Yes?”

She looked frustrated but kept it to herself. “I asked if we will be going in the field this week.”

I nodded. “Likely. It’s on the agenda,” I mumbled.

She nodded and took her seat in the front row. I glanced over at Tessa’s desk, where she was holding court, and glared. I shouldn’t be mad. This is my fault. We are nothing more than boss and employee, professor and student. I’m the one who cut off the friendship. Nipped it right in the bud even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

“If you’re all ready to go, we could probably start class. Everyone else is in their seats and waiting,” I said, with a pointed look at Tessa and her fans.

Tessa looked at me, challenging me a moment before backing down.

“We’ll talk after class,” she promised the student I knew as Jeff. He was one of the guys who seemed a bit more serious about the topic of marine life. He was a sophomore, a little closer to Tessa’s age, but still younger. Maybe she was into younger guys. Again, I didn’t need to go there. It was none of my business if she liked her men younger or older. I needed to mind my own damn business!

She met my eyes. “Was there something else you needed from me?” she asked, in an all-business tone.

“No.”

I turned back to the class, suddenly losing my energy. I wasn’t in the mood to teach and was still struggling to find the joy. Last week, I had actually cursed at a student. I snapped. It was completely out of character for me. I blamed Tessa. She had looked especially pretty that day in one of her many sundresses and had been on her damn phone the second she walked in the door. Whoever she was texting was making her very happy. I was jealous.

“Did you need the PowerPoint put up?” she asked, cutting off my silent self-deprecation.

“What?” I snapped, before realizing I was doing it again.

“A PowerPoint? Book? What do you need to get started?” This time she wasn’t quite so nice. She was being a bit of a bitch about it.

“Nothing. I was just gathering my thoughts,” I retorted. I looked at the clock. Only a few minutes had passed. It wasn’t like I had fallen asleep at the wheel.

I cleared my throat and began my typical stroll down one row and up the next as I spoke. “The lecture for the day will cover pollution in the water.”

There were a few groans, as I expected. Another boring topic they knew all about and didn’t want to hear another word on. Each of the students knew all about pollution, but I needed them to know what was really happening under the water. What the soda cans, chip bags, and beer bottles were doing on the floor of the ocean.

I dove in, giving it all that I had. I glanced over at Tessa on occasion. She was always writing or staring out at the class. I knew this was a topic she was passionate about. Back when we were friends—three entire weeks ago—we had touched on the subject of the destruction of our oceans. She appeared interested in my lecture, but not enthusiastic, much like the entire class.

I was missing something. My lack of true passion was obvious, and the students weren’t buying my spiel. I needed help.

I decided to draw her in. “Miss McShane, our lovely assistant?” I said, staring at her, waiting for her to look at me.

“Yes?” she asked.