by Olivia Chase
I’d rather be mummified than be sitting here.
“If you ever study the layers of coffins they’re placed in, you’ll notice their arms are crossed over their chests, with the crook and flail, symbolizing his role of feeding and leading the people. That’s what my company was founded on. Feeding them this service, and leading the industry.”
Gage Ramsey gives us his adult life spiel, then he starts talking about how glad he is to be here, and how cool this is, and what a pretty little town Deer Falls is, and then says he wants to go over the syllabus that he distributed at the beginning of class.
Of course, seeing as I wasn’t here when class began, I don’t have one.
“Does anyone not have a syllabus?” Gage asks. He knows damn well I don’t.
My face burns, but what can I do? I need my syllabus if I’m going to pass, so I gingerly put my hand halfway up. Gage walks over to me, eyes not leaving mine for an instant, and hands me the syllabus.
“Thanks,” I croak.
“Being late,” he says, returning to the front of the room, “is one of the very few things you’ll see here under the section titled Punishable by Death.” The class laughs, and I slide even further down in my chair. “I don’t care if your Uncle Ned died. I don’t care if you overslept. I don’t care if you had to go get coffee first. I don’t care if your boyfriend dumped you in a text message sent by his buddy and you’re a basket case.”
I squinch my eyes shut.
“Being late is disruptive and disrespectful. That’s why I have it listed there along with plagiarism and selling class materials to people not in this class.”
I want to die. But when I open my eyes, I’m still alive and sitting in a class led by the guy whose mouth was between my legs last night.
“Other than that,” Gage says, sweeping the room with his gaze, “there’s not a whole lot you can do to offend me.”
Titters sound around the class as everyone evidently agrees that this list of Death Penalty-worthy offenses seems reasonable.
“Oh, except lie.” His tone is laced with sarcasm and I fix my eyes on my desk surface. “Dishonesty won’t get you very far with me. At all.”
I should have just stayed in that random office parking garage.
Chapter 4
GAGE
Fuck.
So she goes to college here? Why the hell couldn’t she have told me this? This is information I’d liked to have received last night, before… God. I cannot let my class see that I’m fuming inside. Especially not her.
But knowing that would have changed a few things. Like everything that took place after the moment I learned it. She couldn’t possibly have any fucking idea how close her little stunt has come to ruining everything. But I’m still pissed as fuck.
“I’ll go through the syllabus with you all now,” I say, fighting to look and sound unperturbed. I’m totally aware of the girl from last night sitting there, and I can feel her blue eyes on me without looking at her. My mind wrestles with wondering what she’s thinking and trying to keep moving like nothing is amiss.
We go over the syllabus and course expectations, and while my course design is something I’ve put a lot into and I’m proud of, explaining it with her sitting not twenty feet away feels harder than presenting Pharaoh to potential investors back when I was just getting started. I offer to answer questions, because I have to. And several hands go up, but luckily, none of them are the gorgeous brunette’s.
I field a few more personal questions that I didn’t cover in my introduction, like what drew me to Deer Falls in particular.
“It’s the kind of town I always wanted to live in,” I answer honestly. “But have never been able to and won’t for awhile after this course is over.”
Do I like it here? “Yes, absolutely,” I say, and the girl who asked beams. “It’s beautiful.”
Thank God nobody noticed I choked a little on the word beautiful.
“That’s it for today,” I announce. “See you on Wednesday.”
As I feared, I get a couple of lingerers who want to ask me stuff while the rest of class files out. I answer the first guy as quickly as I can while still remaining polite and friendly, but the corner of my eye is on Keri.
That’s her name, according to the syllabus.
Keri. Keri Willis. The only name on the sheet that wasn’t accounted for when I took attendance at the beginning of class.
She stands up, and my eyes roam over her curves. I remember her last night on top of me, her tits bouncing, that cute little sound she made when I first pushed my dick inside of her. I call out to her before she can slip out the door with the herd.
“Keri,” I command gruffly. “Stick around for a moment.”
She freezes by her desk. Then, in slow motion, she starts collecting her stuff. Which isn’t much, seeing as all she’s got besides her purse is a pen and the syllabus I just gave her. Looking wary, she takes a few steps forward, standing by one of the desks in the front row while I finish talking to my second question-asker. When he turns to go, I look back at Keri, and she’s still hovering by the desks. It’s like she doesn’t want to come too close.
Good. Because I don’t want her to, either. I won’t be able to keep my hands off of her. My dick twitches in my pants, betraying me.
“We’ve clearly had a misunderstanding of sorts,” I say.
“Yeah,” she practically squeaks. “I guess so.”
“It probably goes without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway. What happened last night was a mistake. A big mistake.”
“Huge,” she mumbles, letting her blue eyes flit around before settling on the desktop she’s standing next to.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you how caught off guard I was to see you walk in here.”
“I was a little shocked, too.”
“Yes, well.” I clear my throat. This isn’t going as quickly as I hoped. “Obviously, if I’d known you were a student here, I never would have taken you home.”
She nods, and to her credit, holds back from retorting “If I’d known you taught here, I never would have gone home with you.” But she’s saying it with her eyes. They’re boring into me like blue lasers.
I go on. “I’m not too happy about you lying to me.”
“You never asked if I went to school here.”
“That’s called lying by omission,” I say. “You could have told me. And anyway, you also lied outright, unless you really are an office manager in that building. In what must be thirty-second shifts, since you came to this class immediately after that.”
She turns red.
“Or, unless you showed up to work, decided to skip out and take a class instead, and then registered for my class as you were walking towards it. Or running,” I add, and she noticeably cringes.
“Sorry about that, but… I didn’t think I had a reason to. To tell you, that is. I didn’t think I’d see you again. Especially not here.”
“So you had me drop you off by some random office building?”
She’s nodding, but her eyes are on the gray tile floor. “I’m really sorry,” she says. “I guess I just wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Well,” I offer, softening just a tiny bit. “You’d been drinking.”
“I know,” she says. She lifts her eyes and the two blue pools give no indication that she barely slept last night. “I mean, I… I don’t know. Maybe I should just drop the class?”
It sounds like a question, but unfortunately I think it’s also the answer.
“Yes,” I say, clearing my throat. “I agree. I think that might be best for both of us.”
She looks around my classroom, like she’s taking in a final view. I guess I can understand it. If I hadn’t been me, this would have probably been a very informative class for her. I mean, not to brag, but while I got to attend some incredible lectures by notable CEOs and innovators when I was in college, I definitely didn’t have any business moguls teaching me for an entire semester and
getting to know me on a personal level.
But now that personal level is the entire problem. We got a little too personal.
A lot too personal. I can still hear her making that sound. That sighing mixed with screaming.
Nope. Fuck no.
Can’t happen.
“Good luck in your studies, and in your future endeavors. Really. I’m sure you’ll be a star at some company before too long.”
She gives me a smile, and my heart squeezes, the urge to gather in my arms and kiss those full lips almost overwhelming. My nails dig into my palms.
She almost looks sad. “Thank you,” she whispers.
But she remains standing there for a couple of seconds, just looking at me. I don’t know how she manages to look so beautiful after all the drinking she did and the lack of sleep and the hangover she must have, and what honestly looks like no makeup whatsoever. On top of realizing that she can’t be in my class anymore.
I can’t stop looking back at her.
Damn. Why is she looking at me like that? What is she thinking? Does she feel bad that she’ll miss a valuable class? Or does she feel bad about… this?
She takes a step back, then turns on her heel and walks out the door, gripping the door’s edge on her way out, like she needs to for balance.
And something in my heart does contract, just a little.
This is the way it’s got to be, though. I can’t risk having this girl in my class. Or in my life. Not after what happened when…well, not after what happened before.
I step back to the podium and let my head drop. Jesus. Now I get to teach this course for over three months, all the while knowing the most stunning girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, who gave me the most amazing orgasm I’ve ever had in my life, is somewhere on this campus. And I could easily run into her not just on this small campus, but also anywhere in the not-quite-metropolis town of Deer Falls, Texas.
Fuck.
Chapter 5
KERI
“I’m sorry, Keri, but it doesn’t look good.”
Not what I want to hear.
I lean over the Enrollment Advisor’s desk to try to see the corner of her computer screen, as though my double-checking will make some class suddenly appear that she somehow missed. Ninety-nine percent of me knows it won’t help, but I remain twisted over the desk, hoping for that miracle class to pop up onscreen, just in case.
The redheaded advisor, whose nametag reads “Michelle,” glances up and me and smiles. I wonder how many students do exactly what I’m doing in hopes of changing their schedules.
Having hauled ass to the Student Services office immediately after ducking out of Gage’s classroom like a scolded kid emerging from the corner, I was really hoping for better news than this.
“The only ones open are Technology/Innovation Management, which you’ve already taken. And Venture Financing, which you’re already in. And--” she scrolls down, and I catch my breath. “Oh. The business information systems course has open seats, but that’s a lower level course. At this point, anything you enroll in needs to be in the 300s or 400s.”
I grimace. “What about marketing?”
“You’ve exhausted all the marketing courses you need,” Michelle says, frowning at her screen. “And if you want to graduate with the entrepreneurship concentration, this is the only course that will satisfy the required credits quota. Unless you want to wait until next semester.”
“That would put me behind schedule,” I say. I rub the tiny throbbing between my eyes that’s emerged in the past hour.
“You could take an extra class next semester, to make up for missing this one, but I don’t personally advise that with the workload you’ll already be taking on.” If a sympathetic look can mix with a look that says Tough shit, the face she’s making right now is it. “You have a job, too, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Work-study. I help out with the leadership skills program for high school girls on Tuesdays and Thursdays.” I don’t get paid a ton, but every little bit helps.
“Well, if you ask me, you’re lucky, because the Case Study course doesn’t conflict with that, and it gives you the credits you need now, without having to overload yourself next semester. Are you absolutely sure you want to drop it?”
Ugh. Fucking Gage! How does he have the power to throw off my entire degree plan and graduation date?!
The ache between my eyes spikes. Maybe I should just bail on Bristowe altogether, and transfer to UT. The commute wouldn’t be that bad. An hour each way? Then again, there’s no way I’d have enough time to apply for this semester.
Or I could really distance myself from here and go to Prague, like I told Isabel. I’d have to do some explaining to my mom and dad, but at least it would save me a semester of humiliation.
Although I’ll no doubt get my federal financial aid yanked if I pull a stunt like that.
“Or,” Michelle says, bringing me back to earth, “you could switch to the finance, marketing or management option. But that would involve making up a bunch of those courses and using your entrepreneurship courses you’ve completed thus far as electives. Which will delay you even further.”
And cost me a shitload of extra tuition, both in new classes, and in classes I’ve already taken that were going to be electives and would now be useless, wasted credits. I can’t afford that, and neither can my parents.
Still. What else can I do but dump his class and somehow deal with the fallout later? Surely I can figure something out. Do that! half of me screams. Just dump it and figure it out later!
“May I ask why you’ve lost interest in Mr. Ramsey’s course?” My stomach somersaults but thankfully Michelle can’t hear that. She reads the course details and looks back at me. “The waiting list is a mile long. We don’t get opportunities like this here very often. Those big business celebrities tend to like sticking around big cities, if they decide to teach at all.”
The other half of me agrees with Michelle here, as much as I hate to.
“I dunno,” I say, straightening myself up again. I’m afraid leaning closer to her to see her computer will make her more able to read my mind. “He just seems kind of weird. And… intense.”
“Don’t be intimidated.” She meets my eye and smiles. “This school has some pretty intense professors, I know. Especially in your field. And we don’t often get one with such notoriety. But don’t let that stop you from getting something out of that class. After a few days, he’ll seem like just another instructor.”
I nod slowly. I know she’s right. Or would be, if this situation was that easy.
Michelle observes me for a second. “Don’t let him intimidate you.”
I blanch at this. My breath catches, and I realize something.
She’s right. Even though she knows nothing about this. She’s still absolutely, one hundred percent correct. Gage is trying to intimidate me. This is just another example of a douchebag guy making my life harder so he can get what he wants.
Trying to manipulate me. Trying to make me alter the most important thing in my life—besides my parents—to make things more comfortable for him. Screw what I need, right?
How about… no?
I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t. Not after what Becker did to me. I can’t put myself second to a guy I hardly know. Because take away his gazillions of dollars and his title, when he was sitting there on that barstool, in a hoodie like a regular Joe? That’s all he was. Some guy I didn’t know.
Can’t do what he wants me to do. Won’t do it. Refuse to do it.
Michelle gives me a minute to think and takes a phone call. I lean against her desk, drumming my fingertips on the wooden surface, and I look through the glass windows of Michelle’s private cubicle at the Student Services office.
A few stragglers who either didn’t get registered until now or, like me, desperately need to change their schedules fill other little glassed-off cubicles identical to this one. Over at the cashier’s kiosk, someone’s credit card is
n’t going through and the girl is waving her arms around declaring that she so did not max it out. A huge “WELCOME BACK, BLUES!” banner hangs above the two sets of double doors leading out to this building’s lobby. My anger simmers a little.
Why does this need to be a huge deal that throws a wrench into my whole college career? It’s not like I knew who he was. Why should I have to delay graduating with Isabel and everyone else just because of this arrogant douche who’s teaching here for a semester and then peacing out, never to be seen in Deer Falls again?
What will I have to show for it then, after I let his being here fuck up my plans? Not a degree. Which is the entire reason I’m here in the first place. The entire reason I’ve been working so hard since my freshman year of high school, when I realized that the only way my family could send me to college was if I got my butt in gear and started making myself scholarship material.
And why the hell should I let him intimidate me? Gage Ramsey from fucking… wherever he’s from, just gracing us with his majestic presence long enough to teach a class that I need before he goes back to being pharaoh of Pharaoh. I was registered for this class before I ever knew how young he was, hot he was, or… I push that out of my mind. Unnecessary details.
“You’re right,” I murmur, staring at the back of Michelle’s computer. She hangs up her phone and waits for me to finish.
A fling, that’s all he was. That’s all he has to be.
And now, professor is all he has to be. Just my professor, same as any other who’s taught a class. I always leave at the end of the semester, and that’s it. Why should this have to be any different? I’m still a Bristowe student who needs a class to graduate on time. Gage is still an instructor who signed on to teach whoever lands in that class. He can just be professional and act like it. If I can suck it up and act like a student, then he can act like a professor.
I absolutely have to get these credits. That’s the bottom line.