My Professor(9)

I’m already scowling, having learned to trust Sonya about as far as I can throw her. She’s definitely not my most levelheaded friend. She’s spontaneous and fun and, I’m only now realizing, rather persistent.

“It’s a work of art.”

I don’t look up. “I’m trying to read before class, Sonya.”

“That’s good. What a dutiful student you are. Now look.”

She turns her laptop to face me, and there on the screen is a blown-up, high-resolution photo of Professor Barclay and me with our arms wrapped around one another. We’re dressed to the nines, him in a black suit and tie and me in a silver slinky gown. We look like we’re attending some fancy awards show together.

My stomach drops.

“Where did you get this?” I hiss.

“I MADE it!” Sonya exclaims, drawing the attention of a group of nearby students who turn and see her computer screen before I can quickly turn it away. “Isn’t it brilliant?!” she adds. “A sort of real-life rendering of what could be if only you’d stop being such a bore!”

“That is seriously…creepy.” I squint, trying to focus on all the details. My face is barely blended onto the photo, and same goes for Professor Barclay. It’s the work of a toddler, at best. “Sonya, that’s…really bad.”

“Well, right. Okay. I did it in this dumb app. You just upload two headshots and it does the rest for you. I was at it all morning, saving pictures of me with young DiCaprio—you know, during his Titanic era—when I had the brilliant idea to show you how good you and Professor Barclay would look together.”

Professor Barclay’s face—which she must have taken from a photo she pulled from the university’s website—is comically large in proportion to mine, and his skin tone is a shade tanner than the person she’s stuck him on.

“Whose body is that?” I ask, pointing to the screen.

“Blake Lively, and I put Professor Barclay on Ryan Reynolds. I thought it was close enough.”

“We look nothing like them. My hair isn’t blonde.”

“Okay, yes, slight oversight on my part, but the app doesn’t give you much to choose from. It’s free, after all.”

“You could have at least picked a brunette actress.”

“You know, you don’t sound all that grateful. I haven’t heard a single thank you.”

I gift her with a You’ve Got to Be Kidding Me glare. “Oh, it’s because I’m not the least bit grateful. In fact, I think you might be insane. You need help.”

She’s offended by this. “Are you serious? This was hard work. It took almost ten whole minutes. And I had to scroll through some truly nauseatingly pretty photos of you to find the exact perfect one for the job.”

She pushes the laptop toward me so I can take another look, but I don’t need one.

“Have I finally convinced you?” she asks.

Silence.

She throws her hands into the air.

“So that’s it? It’s an official no-go? You’re not going to listen to me? You’re just going to be a stick in the mud?”

“Yes,” I reply flatly.

She closes her laptop and stuffs it back into her backpack. “What a huge mistake. You could be slinking off with him right now, having a little make-out session before class.”

She doesn’t bother modulating her voice, and I know better than to suggest she should. Sonya has one setting: loud.

“I’m not all that interested in making out at the moment. I’m trying to keep up my GPA so I can get into grad school, preferably on scholarship. I don’t think banging my professor will really help me achieve that goal.”

The doors to the auditorium open and students start rushing in. I collect my things and stand then hold my hand out for Sonya to grab. She does, with a sulking frown.

“Sorry I’m not more adventurous. Honestly, just thinking about having an affair with a professor makes my stomach hurt.”

“I get it, I suppose. And though I do still think you’re making a mistake, I realize now you’re a lost cause.”

I laugh, knowing she’s not being the least bit sarcastic. She means every word. In Sonya’s world, it makes perfect sense to jeopardize your entire future for one night with a hot professor. I would never in a million years go down that road.

“Can we drop this once and for all?”

She nods. “Yes. The subject is officially closed.”

We walk into class side by side, and Sonya starts to tell me about this sexy guy in her psychology class. I’m listening until I glance toward the front of the lecture hall and see Professor Barclay speaking to a few students. I immediately recognize them as the group of girls who were standing near Sonya and me out in the hallway…the ones who saw Sonya’s fake picture before I turned the laptop away.

I feel the color start to drain from my face.

No.

It’s just a coincidence.

It has to be.

They have a question about the reading. They want to know what chapters will be on the first test. SOMETHING!

Professor Barclay looks over his shoulder, spots Sonya and me walking down the aisle, and then nods to the girls. They disperse and take their seats in the front row. One of them—the pretty blonde I now recognize as the girl he agreed to advise this semester—smiles snidely at me before turning away, and that’s when I know my fate is sealed.