Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60904 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
He releases a low hum. “Maybe a bit of both. I can have an ego and want to see my students succeed.”
What a self-deprecating response.
I take a moment to consider him. He’s only a couple years older than me; he’s young and probably feels pressure to earn our respect. It doesn’t excuse his behavior during the icebreaker, but he does seem contrite.
“Do you accept my apology?” he asks.
“Have you apologized?” I reply blandly.
It’s far too easy to talk to him this way. Something about him tempts me to stay engaged when I should walk away.
Or it’s just that he’s insanely hot, and even though I don’t date, I’m still human. Anyone would struggle to resist his allure.
He grins. “I’m so sorry for being a dick to you, Lena.”
I nod and attempt a breezy tone. “Apology accepted. And I really am sorry about the nickname.”
His laugh is rich and melodic. “I think it’s too late for that. I’m Professor Arsehole now.”
At least he has a sense of humor about it.
“But I accept your apology too,” he adds. “I’ve been called far worse.”
Before I can come up with a reply, two wet paws hit my knees. I glance down and find that an adorable cocker spaniel puppy has decided I’m a new friend.
“Sorry about him,” the woman holding his leash says, but I’m not at all perturbed.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” I exclaim, my heart melting. “Can I pet him?”
She beams at me. “Sure.”
I crouch down and extend a hand. The little dog’s short tail wags madly.
“What’s your name?” I coo as I scratch behind his ears.
“Carson,” his owner says.
“Hello, Carson!” My voice goes higher, like I’m talking to a baby. “Aren’t you a handsome boy with your black spots? Yes, you are!”
I glance up at Professor Hirst, who’s looking at me like I’m some sort of strange creature he’s never seen before.
“Don’t you like dogs?” I ask.
His crooked smile takes my breath away. “Not as much as you do, apparently.”
He lowers himself beside me, so Carson can give him a good sniff. The puppy is wary for a few seconds, then allows him to brush the top of his furry head.
Apparently, Carson decides he’s a good human, because he flops down and offers his belly for scritches.
“You’ve been chosen.” I laugh.
Professor Hirst looks slightly bemused, but he dutifully pets the dog. Carson’s tail swishes against the damp pavement in his excitement.
“Sorry, we need to get home,” the owner says, a polite indication for us to disengage.
Professor Hirst reluctantly withdraws and gets to his feet. His small frown of disappointment is far too adorable for such a big man.
“Bye, Carson!” I call after the puppy as he trots off.
“That was cute,” Professor Hirst remarks.
“I know!” I enthuse. “His paws are so big for his little body. And his ears! Too cute.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dog, but yes, he was pretty sweet.”
He’s looking at me intently.
“Have you ever had a dog?” I babble inanely to cover the strange moment.
“No. I’ve never had pets.”
I shoot him a sly smile. “You did a good job with the belly rubs for someone inexperienced. Carson approved.”
“I’d rather have your approval. Does this mean I’m forgiven for being hard on you in class?”
I dare to banter with him. “That depends. Are you going to change your ways?”
“Definitely not.”
“What a shame for your poor students.”
“There’s only one student’s opinion I value right now.”
I tear my gaze from his and attempt a breezy tone. “I can answer any difficult questions you throw at me. You don’t have to make things easy for me.”
“No, I can see that you’re perfectly capable. You’re the brightest person in your program.”
I flush at the praise. It’s surreal after thinking he didn’t respect me at all.
“It’s a demanding course. I’m sure everyone who earned their place here is intelligent.”
He shakes his head. “I saw your grades and your essays. You’re the best student we have.”
“I intend to succeed,” I say instead of directly answering his positive assessment. “I take my studies seriously, no matter what you think about my author aspirations.”
He shrugs. “I simply don’t think you need a higher degree in History to do that.”
I eye him carefully. He’s doesn’t sound like he’s being rude, even if his words are a bit dismissive.
“I plan to teach when I get my MA,” I elaborate. “I know I’ll need a job to pay the bills while I write my novels.”
“Ah. That’s very pragmatic of you.”
“I thought so,” I agree coolly.
I don’t think he’s a dick anymore, but he’s still kind of patronizing.
“I should go,” I announce, realizing I’ve lingered too long in this odd conversation with my professor. “I have reading to do.”
“Watch your step this time, won’t you?” He reminds me of how I almost fell on my ass before he steadied me.
I struggle not to roll my eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of walking home without your instruction, Professor.”