My Professor(59)

Meera rolls her eyes. “You don’t need it, Hugo. I saw what you brought in today. Did you really need four breakfast tacos?”

“I’m a growing boy.”

Meera and I laugh, and she tosses him the bagel. “Fine, but don’t come crying to me when you have a stomachache.”

“Don’t count on it. I have a stomach of steel. Not like our little Emelia.”

Meera flashes me an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I told him you weren’t feeling well the other day.”

“It’s fine. Did you guys see the email about the meeting?”

My question is meant to turn the conversation away from me, especially considering the fact that Professor Barclay is still standing near us talking to Lewis. He doesn’t need to know about my bout of nausea in the bathroom.

“Yup, added it to my calendar and everything,” Hugo confirms. “Now, did this bagel come with any kind of schmear, Meera? Cream cheese? Butter? Peanut butter?”

Later, Zach comes to collect me before the project meeting. I have my AirPods in and I’m listening to an old playlist while I work, so I don’t hear him approach. His hand touches my shoulder, and I jump a mile in the air.

He laughs. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you.” He holds up his hands as if to prove he comes in peace.

I slip my AirPods out and smile. “No worries. I was just lost in my own world.” I check the time: it’s nearly nine.

“C’mon,” he says. “We might be able to snag seats if we hurry.”

Hugo and Meera join us, but in the conference room, there are only enough seats for three. Hugo says he’d rather stand anyway, so Zach graciously tugs out a chair for me and sits one spot over. Since there are so many of us, we’re packed in tight. His elbow brushes mine as he takes his phone out to show me a video he found on TikTok.

“I have to show you. I’ve watched it like ten times. It’s this little puppy trying out its bark for the first time. It thinks it’s really tough and scary, but it’s just this tiny fluff ball.”

I smile and lean in so I can see his screen better.

“Dang. You smell good,” he tells me, hovering his thumb over the play button for a second.

“Oh.” I laugh. “Just my shampoo, I guess.”

He leans closer and sniffs. “Yup. Definitely your hair.”

He presses play on the video, and he’s right, it’s hilarious. I make him play it twice more and he eventually just hands me his phone, but had I known Professor Barclay had entered the conference room at some point during all of this, I would have leaned away from Zach earlier. Better yet, I never would have sat down by him in the first place.

Now, obviously, it’s a little too late to slide away from my coworker, especially as Professor Barclay’s gaze pins me in place. A flash of irritation ignites behind his gaze as I give Zach’s phone back to him, sit straighter in my chair, and try to busy myself with my pen, uncapping it, recapping it, uncapping it again.

Unfortunately, Zach doesn’t get the memo that we’re suddenly supposed to act like we don’t know each other.

“You’re not on socials, right?” he asks. “I tried to find you last night.”

I shake my head.

He snorts. “How’s that even possible? I’m glued to my phone 24/7. What do you do all day? Meditate?”

I can’t help but laugh. “No, I waste time the same way you do. Just because I don’t have a profile doesn’t mean I don’t lurk…”

He smirks like he finds this deeply interesting.

“Who do you like to stalk? Celebrities?”

Our boss.

I shrug. “Whoever. It changes.”

It never changes. It’s always Professor Barclay.

“Whenever you feel like wrapping up your conversation, we’ll begin,” Professor Barclay says from the front of the conference room, his authoritative tone vibrating with ire.

To be clear, everyone was chatting, not just Zach and me, but his gaze is on us, and therefore everyone assumes we’re the ones to blame for his bad mood.

I want to sink down in my chair or, better yet, slide down onto the floor and disappear under the table altogether.

The scene is all too reminiscent of Dartmouth, though this time around, I know Professor Barclay is angry with me for an entirely different reason. I’ve not been any kind of interruption today. The meeting hadn’t started yet, and I was doing nothing wrong. No, this time, he called me out because he didn’t like the fact that Zach was leaning in close to me, showing me his phone. He’s jealous.

I could laugh at the idea.

It’s hard to deny, but it’s even harder to believe.

A man like Professor Barclay seems like he’d never have a reason to be jealous of anyone, ever, but my suspicions are confirmed after the meeting when I find an email waiting at the top of my inbox.

It’s from him.

Meet me in my office at 11:15.

Not even a please.

Anxiety flares hot inside me.

Is he kidding?

I cannot go into his office, and there are about a million reasons why. There is absolutely no time I would ever need to go speak to Professor Barclay on my own. I report to Lewis, Lewis reports to Professor Barclay. I mean, Jesus, half the time I don’t even report to Lewis—I report to Doug who then reports to Lewis. The fact is, I’m a plebe, and he’s the boss. Disappearing behind a closed door with him would look bad on all fronts.