My Professor(11)

I wish desperately that he’d find a bit of humor in this, but he’s completely stoic. He sits at his desk, and I stand a few paces away, aware that he’s not asked me to take a seat. His office is neat and orderly. Behind him, a bookshelf is filled to the brim with volumes of text on architecture. I wonder if it’s his own private collection or if the books are on loan from the library.

When he stares on, not speaking, I realize he’s waiting for me to elaborate.

“It wasn’t a real picture, obviously. She was just trying to be funny, playing around in this dumb app she found.”

I think I see his jaw tick.

“Why was I involved?” he asks harshly.

“I…”

I can’t admit the truth. I will not tell him out loud what Sonya’s true motives were. I’d die right here on the spot. I take the coward’s way out.

“I don’t know.”

He sits forward in his chair, and I gulp.

“Try again.”

I inwardly groan, knowing there’s no way I can get out of this the easy way.

Sonya, you’re dead.

“Okay…well…how do I put this delicately? Um, surely you must realize you’re not like other professors at the university, obviously. You’re…” I almost say attractive, but then I think better of it and switch course last minute. “Young.” He doesn’t seem to understand what I’m getting at, so I add, “It’s why all those girls sit in on your class even though they’re not officially enrolled.”

Finally, realization dawns, and I almost, almost feel bad for him in this moment. Ah, the plight of the ridiculously handsome.

“Sonya was trying to be funny, putting your face in the image. I can assure you there was no malice behind it.”

“No malice,” he repeats as his jaw tightens in anger. “Right. Well, I’ll tell you the same thing I told your friend. Though it might have been a joke to you, a picture like that could ruin my career. Do you realize that? It could jeopardize my standing with the university. A rumor is an idea, and ideas are hard to kill.”

Oh jeez, he’s taking this really seriously. Did Sonya show him the picture? Did he see how silly and unbelievable it looks? I want to explain that to him, but I bite my tongue. Instead, I assure him we would have never showed anyone.

“She just had it on her computer. It would have never gone anywhere or been shown to anyone else.”

His blue eyes burn with anger. “And yet somehow other students already managed to see it and warn me.”

I flinch at his biting tone.

This is not going well.

“I gave your friend a warning, but this is your third strike, Ms. Mercier. There is no way you and I can possibly proceed from here.”

If I speak, I know my voice will break.

Proceed…

Does that mean…?

“How can you maintain enrollment in my class through the remainder of the semester? You seem to be a constant distraction to the other students and a nuisance to me.”

Ouch.

I drop my gaze.

“The drop date hasn’t passed,” he notes, his tone gentling only slightly.

So he wants to be rid of me.

I can’t say I blame him.

“I need this class,” I beg in a whispered tone. The four words are all I can manage. My throat is squeezed so tight with stifled emotion.

“There are other upper-division architecture courses,” he says, leaning back, as if already finished deciding my fate.

“None like yours. I want to study conservation in graduate school. I need this class to reflect my interest in that area.” I force myself to meet his gaze once again. “Please.”

He studies me then, and it’s the first time I’ve seen his brows almost relax into thoughtful repose. His blue eyes are so soft now.

You are a thing of beauty, Professor Barclay.

He looks away and notes, “Professor Lin teaches this course in the spring. You can take it then.”

So that’s it.

My fate is decided by him in such a cavalier way, as if I mean nothing. I’m a problem he needs to solve quickly. A nuisance, as he put it.

The courage I’ve been trying to muster finally finds me. My shoulders rise and roll back, and my eyes lock with his, sparring. My words are biting when I ask him, “Is that all?”

The worst thing of all, the absolute worst thing is that he doesn’t even seem fazed by this show of confidence. He looks…bored. He nods, says, “Yes,” and then waves half-heartedly toward the door as if he’s not sure why I’m still standing there in his office.

I’ve never in my entire life hated someone more than I hate Professor Barclay right now.

I almost…almost flip him off before turning on my heel and walking out of his office, pointedly leaving the door open behind me. If he wants it closed, he can damn well get up and do it himself.





Chapter Six





Emelia



* * *



Tonight is supposed to be fun.

It’s my twenty-first birthday, after all.

My friends absolutely refuse to let it pass by without a full-on production. I’ve tried to wriggle out of it. I’ve used the excuse about it being a bad week (truly abysmal since my meeting with Professor Barclay on Tuesday), I’ve conjured up a pretend headache and a faux homework assignment, but they aren’t budging.