Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Now, open your texts to page 379 and let’s start digging a little deeper.”
Some groan, but the squeaking and shifting of bags tells me many are complying while others start clacking away at their laptop keyboards, either pulling up the ebook version of the texts or going back to playing whatever online game they were in the middle of since they’ve decided the class is going back to being dull again.
I teach for the rest of the hour before there’s the usual mass exodus when I dismiss the class.
Only Phillip comes up after class, wanting to know more about the career fair and to get my thoughts on if I could see him being a therapist or if I think he’d fit better doing graduate research.
“Either way, you’ll probably end up doing some clinical hours, which could give you a better feel for it and which way you might want to go. I’m sorry, Phillip, but I’m late for another appointment,” I say, looking toward Isaak, who’s come up to the desk and is looming like a towering shadow behind me, glaring down at the boy. “Come by during office hours if you want to discuss it more.”
“Sure thing, Professor Roberts,” Phillip says, beaming at me before backing away when Isaak takes a step toward him. “Whoa. This your boyfriend or something?”
“Or something,” Isaak growls, and Phillip scurries off, only taking one quick look back over his shoulder at us before disappearing through the door.
“Was that entirely necessary?” I ask dryly as I gather my teaching notes and tidily tuck them into my portfolio.
“You bet your ass it was,” he mutters. “Class of little creeps.”
He surprises a laugh out of me. “I thought they were on pretty good behavior today.”
“That was good behavior? That one was all but drooling on his desk over you, and I’m pretty sure the weirdo in the corner was writing his school shooter manifesto.”
“Zach’s harmless.” I wave a hand.
“What about the boy band member in the back?”
“Dae? I shouldn’t have even put him on the list. You saw how all the girls in class swoon over him. He’s got his hands full.”
“He didn’t have eyes for any of them. Only for you.”
I feel my cheeks heat. That was always the impression I got during class with the way Dae watches me so carefully, but I was hoping I was wrong. “If anything, it’s just a schoolboy crush.”
“Schoolboy crushes don’t write their teachers about violent fantasies and deliver bloody animals to their well-fortified bedrooms.”
I shudder at the reminder.
“Sorry,” Isaak whispers harshly under his breath. He drags a hand through his hair. “I hate you being so exposed in front of all of them, knowing that any one of the little pricks might be the one writing that shit.”
I look over at him, seeing the muscles in his neck flex with how tense he is.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out but stopping right before making contact with his hand. “It’s gonna be okay. Isn’t that what you said last night? Or were you just blowing smoke up my ass to make me feel better?”
I know I might feel like an old soul, but he probably sees me as a whiny little kid, young and immature, like I see my students.
His eyes flash up to mine. The guilty look in his eyes tells me, yup, he said it to make me feel better.
But then he covers it with a smile. Ah, he’s someone who knows a thing or two about putting on a persona, isn’t he? So what are the shadows that he keeps so carefully hidden?
“You’re good at what you do, Professor.”
“Oh.” I blink, surprised. I wasn’t prepared for a compliment. Isaak’s much easier to handle when he’s pulling out little quips or infuriating me with some misogynistic nickname. “Well, I try, anyway.”
“You do a good job. You’re really engaging.”
“Oh. Um. Thank you. It’s a good group of kids. I’m proud of how far they’ve come already this semester.”
“Does the Professor have time to go grab a cup of coffee?” he asks, and my breath catches a little as I look up into his searching, gray eyes. Maybe he doesn’t see me as just a bumbling kid after all?
“Why?” I ask, too blunt, as always. At least with him. I’m much better everywhere else in my life, my persona firmly locked in place.
He chuckles. “Tuck your panties back in, Red. It’s not a date. I just want a more complete list of names. And I thought it might be nice to grab some caffeine before we head over to make the police statement about the break-in.”
“Just when I start to think maybe you’re a decent guy, there you have to go again opening your mouth.”
“Well, there’s your problem. I’m definitely not a decent guy.” He holds out his arm in an overly formal manner. “Shall we, dear Professor?” he asks mockingly.