by Linda Kage
Except I should’ve known he’d find a way to steal back into my day. After all, blue-eyed cretins had a way of doing that.
By three ten, I entered the sanctuary of my office. Pausing in the doorway, I breathed in the scent of old books lining the walls, which immediately helped loosen my tight muscles. My briefcase slid neatly into the nook between my desk and the wall where I always kept it, and my rump sank into the cushion of my chair. Then and only then did I let out a small moan of delight.
Home.
Some might consider it sad and pathetic that one of the two places I felt at home was tucked away in my cramped office at the university, but I didn’t care. At least I finally had a place that felt welcoming. So I embraced it.
Booting up my computer, I chewed on a fingernail as I waited for my welcome screen to pop up and ask for my password.
Just as it did, a knock came at the opened door of my office. For the briefest moment, my heart leapt into my throat. But dear God, if Noel Gamble had actually accepted my invitation to talk about his essay this afternoon, I was going to have heart failure. He couldn’t invade my safe haven. My home. He just couldn’t.
I almost passed out from relief when I saw the dean of the English department framed in the doorway instead. Thank God.
“Dr. Frenetti.” I sprang to my feet, brushing my bangs out of my eyes. “Please come in.”
He stepped into the room. “Dr. Kavanagh,” he greeted with a tight nod before he got straight to his point. “I hear you’re giving Noel Gamble a hard time?”
Oh, good God, you had to be kidding me.
I’m not sure what was worse; Noel Gamble visiting my office, or someone concerned about Noel Gamble visiting my office. I just wanted to escape everything that was Noel Gamble.
Shaking my head, I offered Dr. Frenetti a tense, confused smile. “Where did you hear that?”
“His coach contacted me today.”
My teeth ground together. What do you know; the arrogant douche had whined to someone about me. Why was I not surprised?
Dr. Frenetti’s face showed some serious disapproval, and unfortunately, he already had one of those faces that looked condemning without any help. With a large, flat nose, permanent frown wrinkles marring his forehead, and fleshy jowls that sagged with outright censure, he looked positively reproachful as he scowled.
Ignoring the urge to slink back into my seat and start apologizing for my failures, I forced a stiff nod. This was about Noel Gamble’s shortcomings, not mine. Still, it felt as if I was confessing a sin when I answered, “He’s not doing well, no.”
Without waiting for my invitation, Dr. Frenetti seated himself in the chair opposite mine and left me standing uneasily in front of him. I shifted a step, uncertain if I should sit too. It was a good thing I finally did because what he said next left me too weak-kneed to remain upright.
“I had my doubts when the board hired you, Aspen. Someone so young and inexperienced...” He shook his head and sighed. “I knew it would cause problems. But the reference your old professor gave us was impeccable. She spoke so highly of you I hoped it would all work out. Except I’m not sure you quite understand the gravity that flunking this student would have. We were undefeated this season until the playoffs. And you might not see it yet, but football is the backbone of this university.”
Oh, I saw it all right. I just didn’t see how that should affect my grading.
“The sooner everyone in the entire English department realizes it, the better. If the team gets the divisional championship next year, our recruiting power goes through the roof, which means more students taking more English courses and more money coming in, hence a better chance for pay raises...bonuses. In essence, you’re helping yourself and everyone on campus if you help this boy. He’s the key to a better university, Aspen. His passing grades are the only thing keeping him here. He absolutely cannot lose his scholarship.”
I had to pinch my leg to keep myself from rolling my eyes. But seriously? One guy—who wrote really sucky essays—was the key to everything? Drama much, old man?
Overdramatic speech or not, my poor little ears rang with shock. I had realized from the very day I’d come here that sports on campus trumped everything else, but to hear the English department Dean speak so candidly about it disappointed me. What about an honest grade? Integrity? Education?
I silently counted to ten before speaking. “So, you’re telling me to pass him no matter how badly he’s truly failing?”
“Of course not.” With an irritated huff, the dean frowned and pinched his flabby lips together. They looked like two pink pancakes, one stacked on top of the other. “But I’m certain there’s something you can do to make him not fail. You’re a teacher. For God’s sake, teach the boy.”
Oh, no, he did not. No one questioned my teaching abilities. “I am! Dr. Frenetti, I—”
“Well, obviously you’re not doing it well enough if he isn’t picking up the curriculum. Yours is the only class he’s failing. Why is that?”
Probably because every other lemming professor on campus was passing him, no matter how awful he was actually doing. Maybe they’d already received the same lecture I was currently getting.
“I...” I shook my head, and my face heated to a scorching degree.
How dare he? How dare he make this my fault? I couldn’t even defend myself. Being the newest faculty member on campus, I couldn’t exactly go complaining to anyone about him, either, without risking my job. Besides, who the hell would I know to complain to that didn’t share his skewed opinions?
God, I hated that I could never defend myself against anyone.
“Aspen, I’m concerned about you.”
I wanted to slap him. The jerk wasn’t concerned about me. And I didn’t appreciate his phony tactic to get through to me. Questioning my abilities as a teacher had pissed me off enough.
Folding his hands together, he leaned forward. “I don’t want anyone to hold anything against you if it’s your fault Gamble loses his scholarship and has to drop out. After a few years here, when you try to get tenured—which is something I know you want since you’ve already mentioned it to me—you’ll need the other faculty members to go to bat for you. They won’t if you single-handedly ruin our first real chance in twenty years to win a divisional football championship.”
Ice ran through my veins. And here came the threatening tactics. Wow, he wasn’t going to pull a single punch, was he?
Rubbing my forehead, I nodded my humble compliance. “I understand.”
“Good. I hoped you would. Now I’d like you to—”
A knock on the door interrupted us.
Great. I wondered who it could be now. My guess was the Grim Reaper coming to take my damn soul away. When I glanced toward the doorway, though, I wished it had been the Grim Reaper, because he could’ve at least put me out of my misery.
Noel Gamble’s presence only added to it.
“Well.” Managing to look surprised, Frenetti popped to his feet and grinned engagingly at the new arrival. “Hey there, Noel. What a pleasant surprise.”
I rolled my eyes and then flushed when Noel glanced my way and caught my immature response to Frenetti’s brown-noser greeting.
“I really enjoyed that last showdown against South Central,” Frenetti was telling him. “The pass you threw at the end and won the game was amazing. I swear you were going to get sacked.”
Noel gazed at the older man a second. Then he flashed a quick glance my way before turning back to the dean. “Well...I did get sacked as soon as the ball left my hand.”
“But you still got it into the end zone and into your receiver’s hands. That’s all that mattered. And what was that, anyway. A thirty-yard pass?”
“Forty-two yards.”
Frenetti whistled. “Quite an arm you have there, son.”
Noel nodded respectfully. “Thank you, sir.” He glanced at me again. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, no.” Frenetti—the ass—an
swered for me. “Come on in. I’m sure you and Dr. Kavanagh have plenty to discuss. So I’ll leave you to it.”
Wait? What? We did?
The dean sent me a speaking glance before shutting me inside my office...alone...with Noel Gamble. The walls instantly closed in around us and my chest followed suit, squeezing in around my lungs until I was sure I’d asphyxiate any second. I could almost feel phantom hands holding me down and covering my mouth as a strong body pinned me to the backseat of his car.
“Who was that guy?” Noel asked, turning away from the closed door to send me a perplexed glance.
He in no way acted as if he was about to attack, so I forced oxygen through my clenched teeth, calming my racing nerves. Then I narrowed my eyes, wondering if he really had no idea who Frenetti was or if he was trying to play me. Finally, I shrugged, figuring it didn’t matter if he was acting out a role or if he was honestly here under his own steam. Either way, I was going to have to “work with him” as Frenetti had put it.
“That was Dr. Frenetti,” I said. “He’s the dean of the English department.” When Noel only blinked, his expression blank of understanding, I sighed impatiently. “He’s my boss.”
“Oh. So, how’d he know who I was?”
I think it was the fury igniting in me that kept me from exploding into a ball of mushy panic, because suddenly, I no longer cared about being alone in a small room with this man. And I no longer worried about how I was going to catch my next breath. I only wondered how hard it would be to sneak a dead body out of here and dispose of it for good.
“Who doesn’t know who you are, Mr. Gamble?”
His nostrils flared as he drew in a breath. I could actually see him rein in his temper as he worked his jaw and focused on the keyboard on the top of my desk. His calming process must’ve worked, because the only thing he said to me was, “Right.” Then he glanced at the chair Frenetti had abandoned but didn’t sit down. “So, uh…I came to talk to you about my last paper if you have a minute.” He cocked me a smirk. “Like you said I should.”
I nodded, not making eye contact. “Well, apparently, I better make a minute for you since my boss just threatened my job if you were put on academic probation because of me.”
“He did?” Noel looked genuinely shocked as he glanced toward the doorway where Dr. Frenetti had been standing. Squinting in confusion, he swung back. “Why would he do that?”
I closed my eyes briefly. “Why do you think, Mr. Forty-Two Yards?”
His face reddened. It was hard to tell if the color came from anger, shock, humiliation, guilt, embarrassment, or what. Clenching his teeth, he bit out, “I didn’t go to anyone to complain if that’s what you’re implying.”
It really didn’t matter if he had or hadn’t. I’d gotten my warning regardless. Now I had to behave by the Man’s stupid, unfair rules.
But no one said I couldn’t take my anger out on the student I was being forced to pass.
“You know, I find it ironic that you’re the one writing subpar assignments and I’m the one getting a slap on the hand for it.”
If Noel Gamble had feathers, I swear they would’ve ruffled. He looked so affronted I actually wanted to cheer on my ability to piss him off. “Look, I’m not asking for special treatment just because your boss happens to like the way I play ball.”
“And yet you’ll be getting it anyway, despite both our wishes.”
“You know what? Fuck you. You told me to come here if I needed help. So here I am. But you obviously don’t want to help me. So, thanks so much for your worthless time.”
When he turned away, I panicked. Pissing off the dean of the English department during my first semester as a professor would not bode well for my future. I had to soothe Noel Gamble’s ruffled feathers. Now.
Clenching my teeth, I surged to my feet and muttered, “Gamble, sit down.”
“Hell no.” Without pausing, he yanked open the door and lifted a hand to send me a jerky, middle-finger wave of dismissal over his shoulder. “Excuse me for bothering you, Professor.”
Damn it, he and I would both be screwed if he walked out that door.
“Do you want to pass my class or not?”
Finally, he paused and glanced back. When I caught the glint of vulnerability and stubborn pride in his tense expression, I melted. Shit, why’d he have to go and do something human like that? Strong, obstinate people who slipped up and showed a weakness always melted me like sugar in warm water.
“Sit down,” I murmured in a quiet, apologetic voice. Motioning toward the chair, I more calmly added, “Please.”
Jaw knitted hard, he closed his eyes and muttered something unintelligible under his breath before he re-shut the door and slouched low into the chair with a petulant glare. Drumming his fingers impatiently on his jean-clad knee, he lifted an eyebrow, silently saying, Well? Teach me already.
I had no idea how I was going to accomplish this, but I was determined to make Noel Gamble earn the passing grade I was being forced to give him.
CHAPTER THREE
"Everybody is a genius. But, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it’ll spend its whole life believing that it is stupid.” - Albert Einstein
~NOEL~
Throat bone dry while the acid in my stomach did somersaults, I stared through narrowed eyes across an eerily clean desk at my English teacher and her delectable mouth, which had driven me crazy since the first day of class when she’d taken her place behind the instructor’s podium.
That skeeved me out more than anything. Nothing about Dr. Kavanagh was my type. I preferred blondes with gorgeous long, flowing hair. My Literature professor kept her dark mass scraped back and hidden away in a tight holy-roller bun secured at the base of her neck.
I was a lover of long lean bodies that liked to show off their impressive curves with fashionable, revealing clothes. Kavanagh was tiny, and probably too rounded for my taste. Or at least I figured she had chub rolls she wanted to hide. Why else would she wear clothes three sizes too large for her?
And I liked confident sensuality in a female, someone who knew she had it and moved as if she wanted every guy in a fifty-mile radius to stop whatever he was doing just to gawk at her whenever she sauntered by. Kavanagh didn’t have a single saunter in her repertoire. She had the sensuality of a nun, and she didn’t seem to like guys at all. Not that I believed she was a dyke as Tenning had suggested. I just viewed her as an anti-sexual being. Genderless. At least, I wanted to.
Which was another reason I hated being so aware of her as a woman whenever she was around. While I was imagining how her sweet, plush lips would feel wrapped around my favorite body part, I knew she had nothing but freaking literature on the brain.
“I actually tried, you know,” I said, attempting to focus on her green eyes and not her mouth. “That was probably the best damn paper I ever wrote. And I didn’t cheat like I’m sure half the class did. I read the book, the Cliff Notes, sample essays. I even watched the weird-ass movie. I did all the fucking work.”
Silently seating herself in the chair opposite the desk from me, Dr. Kavanagh gave me a tight smile. “And yet you completely missed the entire point of the assignment.”
Well, shit, you think? I jerked my hands into the air. “Maybe because I didn’t understand the goddamn point. I mean, what the hell did you want me to say?”
I knew I should’ve toned down the language, but she had me turned inside-out. And I’d only been in her office for two minutes. How this one tiny little person could get me so instantly and completely riled, I didn’t know. But here I was, mad, turned-on, ashamed, alarmed and frankly disturbed by my attraction, while I was equally pissed at her for knowing exactly how much I didn’t deserve to step foot on this campus because I was too freaking stupid.
And, fuck, had she put on lip gloss or something since I’d seen her this morning in class? Her mouth looked shinier than ever. I caught myself looking at it again and jerked my gaze away. Damn it, bitchy teachers shoul
d not have lips like that.
She sighed and interlaced her hands before resting them on top of her desk. “It wasn’t about what I wanted you to say; it was about what you needed to say.”
And there went all my composure. Again.
“What I needed to say?” I surged to my feet and clutched my hair as I began to pace the five feet of room I had in her snug office. “What I needed to say? What the fuck does that even mean?”
Dr. Kavanagh remained cool and collected, damn her, seated in her chair as she calmly watched me unravel into a hot pile of anxiety. “It means you didn’t do what you were asked to do. I wanted you to make a correlation between a character in the story and yourself. You made no such connection. In fact, you didn’t talk about you at all.”
I snorted. “Maybe I didn’t feel a connection with a bunch of rich-ass idiots from the twenties, whining about lost love while they spread around adultery like it was some kind of candy. How am I supposed to correlate anything when there is nothing to correlate?”
She fell back in her chair and sent me a frustrated frown. “Mr. Gamble…” With another sigh, she shook her head and ran her hands wearily over her face, which unfortunately made me focus on her lips.
God damn, that mouth should not be legal. I could picture it pursed so perfectly around my cock, could almost feel the wet slide of her tongue running up my entire length as she sucked me in deep.
Shit, now I had wood.
Fortunately oblivious to my crude, unwanted thoughts, she stiffened her shoulders, sat forward again and looked me straight in the eye. “Truly talented literature is truly talented for a reason. It always—always—finds a way to reach every person who reads it. It takes a theme about the human condition and makes it its little bitch.”
My eyebrows shot up into my hairline. What the hell? Shaking my head, I blinked. “Did you just say—”
“Yes!” she snapped. “I did. Because it’s true. Take one word about feelings or emotions and you’ll be able to find a theme for it in The Great Gatsby. I promise you.” When I did nothing but gape at her, she arched a curious brow. “You do have emotions, don’t you?”