“You know why. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Apparently I’ve been doing a lot of that lately.
“I should give him your number anyway. Maybe he can stalk you.”
“Don’t you dare! Besides, I’ll block his number if you do.”
“You know what?”
“What?” Camila asks, throwing her arm over her eyes. Talking about Marshall is beginning to gnaw at something inside of her, and it makes her miss him.
“You keep pushing away men like him, you’re never going to be happy.”
“Since when should I start thinking that I need a man to make me happy.”
“Not a man, you doofus, a connection, a relationship. The love that comes from that will sustain you longer than any career.”
“Says who?”
“I’ll send you some inspiring TEDTalks. Trust me. Giving yourself over to some career will not feed your soul. It’s an empty path if you have no one to share it with.”
“I have you,” Camila replies sincerely.
“Awww, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve said to me in weeks. I love you too. I love you so much that I’m not going to give up on finding someone who will love the neurotic, control-freaky, gorgeous person that you are.”
“Good luck with that,” Camila replies. “I’m falling asleep. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Of course. And I expect to hear all about Mr. Marshall James.”
Chapter 14
Camila checks her watch for the third time. She’s only taken one other seminar with Professor Stanton and not once was the professor ever late. None of the nine other students around the table appear bothered, but she had told Todd she’d be there by seven. She won’t make it by then if the class runs over to make up time. There’s definitely no way she’ll leave before anyone else either.
She reaches down to take out her phone and send Todd a text. She can usually count on him not to dock her for being fifteen or twenty minutes late. When she leans down to drop it back into her bag, she hears a voice she thought she’d never hear again.
“Apologies for my tardiness. I’d been sitting in an empty room at Furman. I didn’t realize Vanderbilt Hall also has a room 212.”
Camila’s heart begins to race. She stares down into her bag, hoping it would magically open so that she could fall into it and disappear.
“For anyone who might be as directionally challenged as I am, let me just confirm that this is a seminar on Comparative Constitutional Law.”
Camila hears her classmates murmur their response.
“I know you were all expecting Professor Stanton, but she took a leave of absence following a family emergency.”
Camila closes her eyes, wishing herself to be anywhere but where she is at the moment. Already she’s running through the course list in her mind, thinking of what she can take in place of this class. Shit. She had her schedule lined up so perfectly.
“My name is Marshall James, although I guess you’re supposed to call me Professor James,” he chuckles. “Before coming here, I clerked for two Supreme Court Justices.”
“Which ones?” A student asks. Camila recognizes the voice belonging to another 3L, the term for third-year students, who had been in her Lawyering class their first year. He had gone to Harvard as an undergrad and made sure everyone knew.
“I’m sure my bio is posted somewhere on the school’s website.”
“Naturally you all have busy schedules, so let’s get started. I’d rather not have to let class run over because I was late.”
Blood is rushing to Camila’s head. She needs to get up, but pride is keeping her where she is.
“Since this is a small class, let’s quickly go around the table and tell me your name and your year. I’m sure we’ll find out more about each other as the semester progresses.”
Camila still has her head buried in her bag below the table. She hasn’t even looked up to see where he’s seated, so she has no idea when she’ll be expected to speak. She takes a deep breath, followed by another, and then makes a short plea to the Universe to spare her from horrible embarrassment. When she finally sits up, she spies Marshall fourth to her right.
If she was surprised to hear Marshall’s voice, he’s clearly shocked to see her in his seminar. His dark eyes grow wide when they land on her. She quickly looks to the young woman on her left who’s just said her name.
Camila clears her throat, praying her voice doesn’t crack when she opens her mouth. Ugh, the very same mouth that was sucking his cock less than a week ago. The sudden memory floods Camila’s mind. Shit shit shit. “Camila Cohen, 3L.”
She hears him repeat her name under his breath.
After that, his voice becomes muted in her mind. She replaces it with the sound of her own, thinking and assessing her next move. None of what he’s saying will matter because she’s dropping the class as soon as she can fill out the form.
Fortunately, he doesn’t address her for the next ninety minutes. She’s never been more grateful to the Harvard grad who attempted to monopolize the discussion. Before she knows it, she hears Marshall say, “Next week we’ll explore judicial review in the different systems we discussed today.”
Camila is the first to get out of her seat. Ten steps are all she needs to escape.
“Ms. Cohen. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you briefly.” Marshall shoves his notes into his messenger bag.
“Professor James,” one of the students says, “I have a question about what you were saying about . . . .”
“You are welcome to email any questions you have. My email is on the course syllabus,” he replies curtly, not taking his eyes off Camila.
This time she’s unable to meet his gaze. It’s easier to reject someone when you think you’re never going to see him again. She rolls her right foot from side-to-side, a nervous habit.
“I’m late for work,” she says as soon as the room clears.
“I’ll walk with you then.”
Camila turns without another word, hoping being on campus will make whatever he has to say short.
“Law student, huh?”
She nods.
“And bartender by night.”
She nods again.
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
“Maybe for the same reason you didn’t tell me you’re a professor.” Camila picks up her pace as soon as they reach the small courtyard. “It didn’t come up.”
“I wonder why that is?” He asks. “Doesn’t that stuff usually enter into conversations when you first meet someone?”
Camila stops walking when they get to West 4th. “For some maybe. But I didn’t see the point. It doesn’t define my life any more than bartending does.”
“Doesn’t it though? Is that why you won’t make time to see me?”
Camila shrugs. “Even if it is, it wouldn’t be the only reason. Although you teaching here really nixes any possibility, however remote, doesn’t it?”
Marshall doesn’t respond. He doesn’t have to. He knows she’s right.
Chapter 15
If Camila thought that dropping the class would’ve been enough to escape Marshall, or at least his specter, she was wrong. News of the new, hot, brilliant law professor spread among the classes, which didn’t take long considering the small size of the student body. Even within the confines of the small Law Review office, as she prepared for the editors’ meeting, she was surrounded by it.
“You know he clerked for Scalia,” Lisa, one of the senior editors, tells her one morning.
“Uh-huh,” Camila replies, flashing back to the conversation she’d had with Shoshana. She didn’t have to look up his bio. Her cousin took care of that the moment Camila told her that Marshall was teaching at the law school.
“He clerked for Sotomayor too,” Shoshana read from her phone. “I knew he was brilliant.” She flashed the screen at Camila, whose eyes lingered over the small headshot next to his bio.
“Brilliant or not. He’s my professor.”<
br />
“Technically, he was your professor for an hour and a half. He ceased to be the moment you dropped his class,” her cousin reminded her.
“It’s a technicality. There’s still an issue of ethics.”
“That’s highly debatable,” Shoshana pointed a finger. “And don’t get any ideas. I’ve got a headache.”
“Whatever. I’m not going to see him or sleep with him so none of it matters.”
“But aren’t you the least bit intrigued, C.C.? You guys can totally have a professor/student thing. Come on, who hasn’t had that fantasy. Remember that crush I had on my Greek philosophy prof? The way he talked about Socrates, I swear . . . .”
Camila shook her head. “Doesn’t matter.”
“You’re such a buzzkill. Everyone should have at least one elicit love affair before they die or get married.”
“I like how you mention dying before getting married, as if the latter is less appealing,” Camila said wryly.
Shoshana twirled a stray lock of hair that fell out of her ponytail. “Whatever.” She looked at the waitress who approached quietly. “A chocolate almond croissant and skim cappuccino, please.”
Camila ordered the same. “What’s with all the sugar?”
“I got my period a couple of days ago. If it wasn’t for you, I’d have stayed in bed with my heating pad.”
“You just wanted to talk more about Marshall.”
Shoshana nodded her head. “Hell yes.” She gestured toward her phone. “You should read about him or at least the articles he’s written on women’s reproductive rights. I’m starting to wish I kept him for myself.”
Camila shook her head again. “Maybe you should have. At least one of us would be having sex on a regular basis.”
Shoshana made a face.
“Look, I don’t need to know any more about him than I do.” Camila buried her face in her hands. “It’s not as if I don’t know the most intimate parts. Far more intimate than any student should know about her professor. And speaking of which, how could you text for a week and not know what he did for a living?”
Shoshana shrugged. “He mentioned he was named after Justice Thurgood Marshall, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. Guess it makes sense now,” she chuckled.
Camila raised an eyebrow.
“Look, it’s not like we texted all day every day. Besides, you don’t like sharing a bunch of personal details so I moved away from that and kept it fun. He’s pretty cool and easy like that, don’t you think?” She smiled knowingly at her cousin who didn’t respond. She would’ve been forced to agree, and she doesn’t want to acknowledge anything positive about Marshall. It will only make it harder for her to forget him.
“Some of us have a pool going to figure out if he’s available,” Lisa continues.
Camila looks up from her laptop. “What’s the point? It’s not as if any of the students can date him?”
“So? We can at least fantasize.” She tosses her strawberry-blond hair over a shoulder. “Besides, haven’t you seen him? He’s like twenty years younger than most of the professors here and way easier to look at.”
Camila shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve seen him.” And fucked his brains out too. “I dropped his class for the Immigrants’ Rights Seminar.”
“Why would you do that?” Lisa gives her a puzzled look. “I heard there’s already a wait list for his 1L Con Law class in the Spring.”
Camila shakes her head, not wanting to answer her question. “Maybe the Law School figured out that hiring a good looking professor would be enough to motivate its students.”
Lisa smiles and nods. “I’d say we’re finally getting our money’s worth.”
Camila tries to smile and play along, but deep down it bothers her that people won’t stop talking about him. The moment she hears his name, her mind flashes to the way she rode him in her bed that night and, while a part of her wants to cringe, another part of her is turned on. She doesn’t need a Marshall James fantasy because she’s had it, and she knows exactly what he’s capable of offering. The thought burns through her body and makes her crave his kiss. She shakes her head. The last thing she needs is to feel anything akin to lust or desire for him.
The chatter among the senior and executive editors as they shuffle around is a mix of work, personal life and still more Marshall James. Thankfully there are enough different conversations to drown out everything else about the new professor. She’s relieved when she spies Professor Pryor enter the room and head straight for her desk.
The talking drops to a dull murmur as Professor Pryor pulls Camila aside. “My apologies for being late. I was in a meeting with the Dean.”
Camila waves. “No problem at all. I trust you received my emails regarding the October publication?”
“Yes, yes, of course.” The Professor perches on the edge of the desk. “I’m glad you pretty much have it wrapped up and ready to go, which makes what I have to say easier.”
Camila looks at her quizzically.
“I’m stepping down as Faculty Advisor. I’ve been brought in to consult on a case that will take up a lot of my time for the next few months.”
“Of course. You mentioned the possibility a while ago,” Camila replies. “When do I get to meet with your replacement?”
Before Professor Pryor can respond, the talking ceases and heads turn when Marshall enters the room.
“How about right now,” she answers.
Dread spreads throughout Camila’s body. She can feel a weight enter her chest and her breathing spike. She forces a smile as Marshall approaches.
“Professor Pryor,” he extends a hand. “Thank you for coming in today.”
“Of course,” she replies.
Oh my god, is she blushing? Camila wonders. She offers her hand before prompted. She doesn’t want Marshall to think he caught her off guard. Although it’s precisely what he’s done.
“Camila Cohen, Editor-in-Chief,” she says, introducing herself. Of course it’s all for show. The last thing she wants is to have to place her hand in his, to remember how smooth his touch is and how incredible it felt when he traced his fingers over her back. She shudders at the memory and at the thought of what he did after.
“Ah, yes,” he replies, touching his finger to his lip. “You were in my Comparative Con Law seminar last week.”
Camila nods. “Unfortunately, I had to drop it due to a scheduling conflict.” Her smooth voice surprises her. This will be easier than I thought, she assures herself.
She moves to Professor Pryor’s left, placing the unsuspecting woman between them. A specialist in human rights law, Professor Pryor turns to the group of editors and says, “Professor James comes to us with an esteemed background in Con Law, having clerked for two Supreme Court Justices. We’re very fortunate that he turned down a teaching post at Harvard Law School. As former Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Law Journal, I’ve no doubt he has much expertise to share. I’m confident that I’m leaving you in very capable hands.” She first nods at Marshall and then at Camila. “Good luck.” Then she turns to the group. “My door is always open, but try emailing first.”
Polite laughter trails after her as she exits, leaving Marshall and Camila standing side-by-side at the front of the room. She can feel his energy reach for her, the warmth coming off his body as he clears his throat to address the editors. She’s on auto-pilot now as she goes through topics and assignments with the editors, ignoring the burning gaze she feels coming from him. As soon as she finishes, Marshall segues into his own vision for the Law Review and the upcoming publications.
“I know many in the legal profession want to dismiss or downplay the significance of Law Review. But I believe that it still maintains its relevance today.” He goes on to mention two instances of law review articles cited in major legal battles this past year that had made their way to the Second Circuit Court of Appeals. “So for our next issue, I’d like to see some articles offering a deeper exploration of a Federal circuit case and some s
tudent notes examining some of the top supreme court cases of last year and their broader implications. Show me what you’re capable of. I want you to impress me.”
Marshall looks at Camila when he makes that last statement. Impress me . . . . No, she won’t be the one to write those articles, but she gets that he’s expecting something from her. And at the moment, her heart pounds against her chest, wanting to accept the challenge. Camila swallows, ignoring the burning that’s passing through her and lingering at her cunt. “Thank you all for coming,” she says. “I look forward to a strong year.”
Chapter 16
“When’s mom going to be home?” Camila opens the refrigerator and stands in the door to cool off.
Her father looks up from his book. “Not for a couple of hours. The hospital’s been having to cut non-essential personnel, so she’s been putting in some long days.” He shakes his head. “At least she’ll have the holiday weekend to recover. “You want to stay for dinner? She’s stopping by Puerto Viejo on her way home.”
“Did I hear Puerto Viejo? Hopefully she’ll get some maduros too.” Shoshana enters the kitchen and drops a large tote bag and her purse onto the small, square dining table where her uncle sits reading. She kisses his forehead. “Hey Uncle Bernie. What are you reading?”
Not waiting for an answer, she bends down. “Oooh, The Chocolate War. I love that one.”
“Glad you approve. It’s on my reading list for this Fall.”
“He’s teaching a class called Race and Rebellion in American Literature,” Camila pipes in, shutting the refrigerator door.
“Pretty edgy stuff Professor Cohen,” Shoshana comments.
“Trying to stay current and keep my students engaged.” He doesn’t bother to look at his niece when he talks. She and Camila are both used to how engaged he becomes in a book. Teaching is his greatest passion, after his wife and daughter.
Camila offers Shoshana a glass of water which she swallows in two big gulps. “Thanks.”
“Surprised you came today. I warned you their air conditioner was broken.”
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