by Bee Daniels
"Don't lie to me," she said.
"Okay," he said with a shrug. "I don't necessarily care about psychology in particular, but I need to pass this course. You know I need to pass this."
Professor Bryant shook her head, biting on her bottom lip, probably contemplating whether she should take her word back or not. Noah hoped she did. He didn't know what else to tell her. Sob stories didn't work on someone like her. She wouldn't just let him skate by on a my-parents-died-even-though-they-are-totally-alive-and-please-god-don't-spite-me lie that students usually told their professors to get out of bad grades.
"Professor Bryant!"
Their attention turned to the student running towards them. She came to a full stop in front of them, heavily breathing as she held her chest. Professor Bryant frowned with worry.
"Allison, what's wrong?" she asked. "You didn't have to rush here. You still have three minutes left."
"I'm so sorry, Professor Bryant. I know we have the exam today, but I can't make it because I have to pick up my brother from the hospital. I'm really sorry. I know you need help passing all the exams around—"
"It's okay. You should have just texted me. Hurry up and go and make sure to update me. I hope your brother is okay," Professor Bryant said, reassuringly.
"Are you—"
"Go, Allison," Professor Bryant said firmly with a small smile.
Allison smiled, her eyes watery before she hurried up and took off. Professor Bryant watched her leave before she sighed. Noah glanced through the window of the classroom door to see it was a lecture hall with at least a hundred students in it. She would definitely need help without her TA being there. When an idea came to Noah, he grinned.
"I'll help you pass out the tests," Noah offered. Professor Bryant looked at him with a suspicious stare, her nose wrinkled.
"I guess the reason you're telling me you'll do this has nothing to do with the kindness of your heart but all to do with the tutoring," Professor Bryant said sarcastically.
"I mean," Noah started, biting his lip in mock innocence. "I didn't say it. You did, Mel."
"Mel?" she repeated astonished by the nickname. Noah couldn't help it; he laughed.
"You do not get to call me that," she said before she stamped her foot against the ground, quite childishly he might add, but it was kind of cute of her. It reminded him of his little sister whenever she was forced into doing something she didn't want to do.
She opened the door and paused. "You can help me," she said, and reluctantly added, "I'll do the tutoring."
"Okay," Noah said, following her inside, happy with the new terms they had come up with.
"But I swear if you're late one more time—"
"I won't be. I learned my lesson this time," he said as they stopped in front of the desk next to the projector. This would be a piece of cake.
CHAPTER
12
NOAH
T
HE HOUR-LONG CLASS WENT BY IN A FLASH, AND SOON PROFESSOR BRYANT’S DESK WAS COVERED WITH COMPLETED EXAMS. The last of the students who were still trying to scribble down answers realized they no longer had time as Noah started to go around picking up the rest of the exams. As he had expected, helping Professor Bryant was as easy as pie. But the surprising part was that he was even able to help the students out when they had questions because he actually knew them. He was actually picking up on this psychology thing now.
Noah took the last pile of exams and placed them on the table. They were in no rush because, apparently, this room wouldn't be used again for another hour. Professor Bryant sat behind the desk, looking over the section of the written questions as she marked them with her red pen.
"You're already grading?" Noah asked. He'd seen her do it in some of his classes before, but it still always surprised him, and he was pretty sure it intimidated half of the class, seeing the way her red pen would shred through someone's hard work. Most students who finished an exam early left with confidence, but Noah noticed that most of the students didn't attempt to leave early and used up every bit of time they had.
"Hmm." She hummed over the pen wedged between her lips. She glanced at him before looking back at her paper and then looking back at him again as if she were surprised to see him still there. Damn. For some reason, Professor Bryant seriously had a way of hurting his pride, and Noah wasn't quite sure if she was doing it on purpose or not. He couldn't tell.
"Everyone done?" she asked as she glanced at the seats to see them all empty.
"Yup, the exam is over," Noah announced, pointedly looking at the stack of exams piled together. "You're going to have a lot of work cut out for you without your TA here to help you."
"It's fine," she said with a dismissive wave. "I usually go over the exams after her just to make sure everything is correct."
Of course, she did. On top of everything, she was a perfectionist. Noah walked behind the table to grab his bag that he had tossed on the floor, and when he went to pick it up, he noticed that, once again, her feet were on top of her shoes, instead of in them. What was the point of her wearing heels if they hurt her feet so badly?
"So, we're on for tutoring tonight, right?" Noah asked, wanting to confirm that this wasn't a fluke, and he didn't just waste an hour of his life when he could have been hanging out with his friends in the Can for lunch.
"We’ll have to do it on Wednesday because I have plans for tonight. But I hope on Wednesday, I'll see you at eight o'clock on the dot. Not a minute later, or I'm leaving," she warned, pointing her red pen at him.
"Okay," Noah said, making it a point to remember that no matter what happened, he needed to always be on time for their tutoring sessions. He waved goodbye to her and made his way to the door, wondering what he'll eat before practice, but before he could make it out the door, she called his name.
"What's up, Mel?"
The exasperated look on her face nearly made him laugh, but instead of her telling him not to call her that, she shook her head, clearly intent on not entertaining him.
"As a thank you for your favor, I'll take you out to eat," she said.
Noah blinked, surprised at her offer. He hadn't expected her to do something like that for numerous reasons. One, majority, if not all the time, she seemed like she didn't like him. Two, she knew he did this for tutoring, so both of their dues were already paid. And three, didn't she dislike him?
But instead of asking why, Noah found himself saying, "Okay."
It wasn't long before they both got in their cars separately because she wasn't planning on coming back to campus, and they made their way across the city to a restaurant that Noah had never heard of before.
It was an Asian-fusion cuisine restaurant, and judging from the fiery red ball of flame on top of their building, Noah knew his stomach would be in for it.
They sat in a booth together as they looked over the menu, and Noah had to question how he found himself here, at lunch with a professor who made it abundantly clear that she didn't like him and wanted nothing to do with him. But then again, strangers things had happened.
"Do you know what you're getting?" Professor Bryant asked as she placed her menu down and took off her blazer, revealing a pink satin blouse. It was sleeveless with a very deep V-neck that revealed the swell of her breast.
"I'm getting the sweet and spicy wings," Noah said, placing his menu down as well. "What about you?"
"A pad Thai dish," she said, shaking her head. "I don't know why I even bother to look at the menu. I always get the same thing."
It's clear that she's telling the truth because the moment the waiter came over, she recognized Professor Bryant as a regular customer and repeated her order before Professor Bryant got a chance to say anything. Next, the waiter asked Noah what he wanted, and he rattled off his wings and the amount he wanted, which was a lot. He was starving, and he knew he would eat all thirty wings without needing a to-go box.
"My friend always gets the wings as w
ell, too," Professor Bryant said. "I should order her some and take them over to her place after this."
And when she suddenly grabbed her phone, Noah had a feeling what she was doing.
"Wait. Are you making a note for it like some eighty-year-old woman with bad memory?"
"If I don't write it down, I might forget," she said as she finished typing the note before closing her phone. "It's easy to forget something like that. And are you calling me old?"
"You definitely don't look old," Noah said, thinking back on the time he had mistaken her for a student. Every now and then, whenever he thought about it, he couldn't help but laugh at his own foolishness because it was so clear now that Professor Bryant was far from a young girl and was a woman through and through, from her sharp eyes to the way she carried herself. He really tried to hit on his professor, unintentionally, without knowing it.
Noah wasn't that type of guy. He didn't have the same fantasies other young men had about their teachers with the red apples and glasses. But then again, Noah also never had a teacher who looked as good as Professor Bryant did. Even if she was a hard ass, Noah would find her attractive. But the moment he realized she was his teacher, anything he found attractive about her had disappeared— until now.
When the food was set in front of them, Professor Bryant's mouth nearly watered. She quickly gave her blessings before digging into the food in front of her mercilessly. Noah had to admit it looked good.
As he finished off another one of his wings that were really good, Noah said, "Mel, let me try it."
When she glared at him, Noah wasn't sure if it was because of the nickname or what he had asked. Maybe it was both.
"I treat you, and you're still asking for some of mine," she said with a huff before shaking her head. "Never mind that. I don't share food."
"I'm your student," Noah pointed out. "Of course, you share food with your student."
"Maybe if you were a helpless teenager who couldn't feed yourself, then I would. But this isn't the Freedom Writers, and I'm pretty sure you could pay for an extra meal, Noah."
Noah couldn't help it. He burst out into laughter. "Now, I get it. You're just greedy. You could be Hilary Swank if you want, but you just want to hog all the food to yourself."
"I'm not greedy, Mr. I'm-going-to-order-thirty-wings-on-my-teacher's-dime."
"You're a professor," Noah argued, laughing as he licked the sauce from his fingers. "It's not like you're on a teacher's salary. You're a professor, so you're making the big bucks, unlike me, a college student who's eating ramen noodles every day."
She rolled her eyes, not moved by his words. "I doubt with a body like yours that you're diet consists of only ramen noodles."
"With a body like mines?" he repeated with a grin, resisting the urge to flex his muscles. He worked hard on getting the muscular body he had by getting as healthy as he could while also packing up on the carbs. Spending every day in the gym, bulking up, had been worth it on the ice and with the women.
"Leave it to you to miss my point," she said, swirling her noodles around her fork before she glanced at his plate of food under her lashes. "We'll do a trade for trade."
"A trade for trade," he repeated, grinning, his dimples digging deep into his cheeks from his amusement. Professor Bryant was a funny woman. "Okay, bet."
Noah passed her three of his wings, and she passed him some of her food. When he took a bite of it, he could tell why she liked it so much.
"The next time I come here, I got to get this too," he commented. The food here was really good, and the service was fast. It sucked that it was far from campus, but at least it was close to where some of his friends lived. If he was ever down here visiting one of them, he would stop by and make a trip.
They ate their food in comfortable silence until Professor Bryant surprised him by asking a question. Her focus was no longer on the food in front of her, but instead, her brown eyes were trained on him.
“What problems are you going through?” she asked.
Noah chewed his food and swallowed, slightly confused by her question. “What problems?”
“Last time, you told me you were going through a lot of stuff on the ice. What’s the problem?”
He did tell her that, but Noah didn't think she would have bothered to remember nor ask. Everything with her was psychology and nothing else. He thought that she heard nothing of what he told her that night, but apparently, she had been listening.
"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she said, shrugging. “I’m just asking.”
Noah bit his lip, not necessarily certain if he wanted to talk about this with her. He barely wanted to talk about it with his coach. Speaking about his failures did nothing but make him feel shitty and take his confidence away. Right now, all he had was his confidence and he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to lose that so close to the first game.
But for some reason, under the gaze of her brown eyes, Noah wanted to speak. Maybe he should.
“Someone told me the only reason I’m on the ice is because of my father,” Noah admitted. “I’m used to it, so usually I can ignore it, but this time… I just couldn’t.
“I was sure I was going to start on the right foot before the season started, but right now, I'm bombing. I'm not my best, and I'm not hitting the pucks consistently—" he sighed deeply, feeling the weight of his worries heavy on his shoulders. It was too early for things to start going wrong. He had a few more weeks before he would be back on the ice again in front of the world. He had to be his best on the ice, and right now, he wasn't.
"You sure you aren't psyching yourself out?" she asked, and when he arched a brow, she further explained herself. “That person’s words may have triggered doubts you already have. Words usually only bother us when we think they’re some truth to them, which is probably why it’s still on your mind now. If someone called you fat as an insult, more than likely you would brush it aside, unless you had been before or think you are now. Right now, you’re projecting your doubts, and it’s manifesting on the ice.”
Noah blinked. Wow.
"You're really a psychologist. You got all of that out of that one thing I said."
She snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes at his words. Noah found himself smiling. Her laugh was infectious, and Noah was glad to hear it, knowing it was because of him even if he wasn't sure how he made her laugh. It felt good to be under her gaze not as an annoying fly, or a bug, but as someone she saw. Maybe he had always wanted that.
"It's common sense," she said. "Your game is coming up. It's supposed to be your final year before you get drafted, and you doubt yourself. The mind has a funny way of playing tricks on you. If you tell yourself you can't do something, you won't be able to do it."
"How do I stop it?" he asked.
She leaned her head back against the booth, her brown skin warm in the sunlight that peeked through the window, shining on her face.
"Think of positive thoughts. Don't think of the games as your final chance because you're teetering on edge because of it, constantly telling yourself not to mess up instead of just playing. Play like you usually do. Don't play like it's your last time. Play like you're playing for yourself."
Noah processed her words as he nodded, feeling that heavy weight he had been carrying on his shoulders slowly fade, and suddenly, he realized he had been filled with anxiety. He shrugged his shoulders and grabbed another wing again, flashing Professor Bryant an appreciative smile before he ate again.
Before he knew it, both of their plates were clean, and after she paid for their food, they stepped outside together. Noah walked over to Professor Bryant's beat-up car.
"Don't you say anything," she warned him as she opened her car door.
"What?" Noah asked, smiling. It was hard not to notice how bad this car was, and he really wanted to ask why she was riding around in a bucket, but, clearly, he wasn't the first person to ask this.
"I ca
n see it written all over your face," she said with a shake of her head. "You buy a student food, and he's criticizing your car."
She got into the driver's seat and rolled her car window down. "You don't have to see me off, you know. Actually, I should be the one that's doing that."
"It's fine," Noah said. "Thanks again, Me—"
"Goodbye, Noah."
He laughed at her dismissive goodbye and walked over to his truck. It was only after he pulled out that she left herself, and as Noah drove back home, he couldn't help but think to himself that Professor Bryant was alright.
.
CHAPTER
13
NOAH
A
FTER THEY HAD LUNCH TOGETHER, EVERYTHING CHANGED. With Melanie’s advice, Noah stopped worrying while he practiced on the ice, and without him worrying, he was playing at his best again. No longer was Coach Benson hurling insults at him, but telling him to keep up the good work. And when it came down to his work outside the ice, he was doing better too. The tutoring sessions were helping, and his grades were getting better with him getting B’s on his last two quizzes.
“Did you get all of that?” Melanie asked as she grabbed the dry eraser. They had just finished going over the fourth chapter together, and it was now almost nine o’clock, meaning their session would soon be over.
“Yeah,” Noah said, and he watched as she wiped off all of the things she had written on the board. Noah stood from his seat, stretching his limbs before he started to pack all of his things. This had been one of the hardest things for him to learn. Still, once she explained everything to him, especially with him understanding the other material from the previous chapters, it was much easier to get now. Noah even had faith that with this upcoming exam, that he’ll be able to ace it if he was able to keep on passing the quizzes and homework.