To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(25)

He stepped into my office, his jaw hard and eyes heated with anger. “Look, I don’t want you to give me a grade I don’t deserve. I fought for an A, damn it. And I want to actually earn one.”

My mouth fell open. “Wha…” I said again, then shook my head. Decorum, Aspen. After a deep breath, I tried again. “What makes you think you didn’t earn it?”

“Because I just came from f*cking weight training where my coach told me he went to your dean person and complained. And I remember that guy being in your office when I came to talk to you last week. I thought I told you I didn’t want any special treatment just because I’m—”

“And I didn’t give you any.” I glowered as my senses crashed back into me. Of course, he’d come back to argue with me about an A. Only Noel Gamble would do such a thing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gamble, but if anything, I judged you more harshly because of that. Believe me, you earned your score.”

He gave a harsh laugh and spun away to wipe his hand through his hair. “Why do I have such a hard time believing that?”

“I have no idea.” Pushing to my feet, I set my hands on my hips and kept scowling. “Maybe because you’re a stubborn, untrusting, relentless individual.” He whirled back to send me a surprised glance.

I arched an eyebrow. “And for your information, I didn’t exactly enjoy getting bitched out by my boss for the fair and just grades I provide. It made me want to give you an even worse score than before. But then you went and wrote what you wrote, and suddenly, I didn’t have to worry about what Frenetti told me to do anymore, because I could just take your essay to the board and get you permanently expelled. There was no reason to give you an A at all, except you shocked the shit out of me when you actually wrote a decent paper. You showed me how much you’re willing to put forth to reach your goals, and I decided not to take that away from you. So you’re just going to have to accept the fact that I am such an amazing, kickass teacher I actually got through your thick skull in that one meeting we had and miraculously taught you the meaning of literature analysis. Got it?”

He blinked. When I didn’t change my expression, he blinked a couple more times until his face finally softened. After blowing out a breath, he shook his head and took a step back. Eyes filling with questions, he murmured, “You really think you taught me that well, huh?”

I lifted my chin stubbornly. “Oh, I know I did.”

A grin tugged at his mouth. Then he huffed out a quick laugh. “Well, okay then. If you say it was honestly an A, then I won’t argue.”

“You mean, like you’ve been doing for the past five minutes?”

“Right.” This time, his smile was a full-fledged beam.

It did things to me I would be too mortified to admit to anyone aloud. But my body kept responding despite how much I commanded it to cool down.

“Okay, then.” He nodded and turned away to leave.

Startled he was going to vanish just as abruptly as he’d appeared, I panicked. I didn’t want to see him go yet. My brain scrambled for something. There were so many things I knew I should say, but instead I blurted out, “And for future reference, you might want to look up the meaning to TMI.”

When he whirled back, I lurched a little in reverse. I wasn’t expecting that to stop him in his tracks, but I was perversely pleased it had.

“If you’ll remember,” he murmured, sauntering back to my desk and setting his hands on top so he could lean over and stare me right in the eyes. “I did try to get it back from you.”

With a small nod, I managed to meet his gaze with what I hoped was a cool expression. “And I should’ve given it back. But I’m glad I didn’t.”

I sank back into my seat, trying to turn my attention to the screen saver on my computer. But all I could focus on was the man on the other side of my desk.

He alarmed me when he sat down on the chair in the seat across from me, his eyes alert and seeking. I sat up straighter, my gaze darting from the chair to his face as he demanded, “What does that mean?”

Shit, I’d exposed too much by saying that, hadn’t I? “I...I...Nothing. I’m sorry I said anything. I shouldn’t have.”

“But you did. Now spill it.” His hand curled into a fist and slid off the desk so he could press it to his mouth. Over his whitened knuckles, he stared at me with...what was that, worry?

No. He couldn’t be worried about my opinion. Surely not. I’d already told him I wasn’t going to rat him out.

“I assure you, there’s nothing to spill.” My voice was soft as if it wanted to reassure him. But I didn’t want to reassure him. Did I?

His throat worked as he swallowed. Then he dropped his hand, and his tongue gave a quick nervous lick over his lips.

“You—” Cutting himself off, he glanced down at his fingers clenching and unclenching in his lap. With a soft, self-conscious laugh, he lifted his face only to glance to the side at one of my bookshelves. “You’re really not going to expose me? That’s just—” He turned back to me, his expression confused and yet hopeful. “You could’ve gotten rid of me for good.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I didn’t.”

He leaned toward me, his eyes seeking. “Why not?”

“I...I just told you why.”