Teach Me: A Bad Boy Professor Romance (The Me Series Book 1)

by Penelope Marshall

  Making my way down the corridor, I spotted a few couples kissing in the corner with no regard as to who saw them engaging in their public display of affection.

  Who does that?

  I shook my head.

  You'd never catch me messing around like that.

  I made my way through the exit and back to my dorm room with just enough time to change before heading to my part-time, librarian assistant job. I didn't make very much, but it gave me time to study, and I felt safe when I was there.

  The minute I stepped through the main entrance of the library, the smell of old leather-bound books hit me like a brick wall. I loved that smell, as it was almost as comforting as having coffee with an old friend.

  "Cece."

  I turned to see Charity waving from the table situated next to the service counter. A huge grin fell over my face. Charity was my roommate but had moved into her boyfriend's apartment the day before school started. She did, however, decide to keep most of her things in the room just in case her parents ever showed up.

  I didn't mind, though. I had the whole place to myself and, well, my thoughts. Thinking about it, I guess I could classify myself as a loner. But it was better than getting hurt like my mother had.

  I hurried over to her, laying my bag on the table as I leaned over and gave her a tight hug. I brushed her blonde hair from my face, accidentally breathing in the light aroma of lavender, which reminded me of my mother's garden.

  I sat down and smiled, ready to chat away the next few hours while I pretended to work.

  "What've you been up to?" I pushed my bag to the side so I could rest my elbow on the table.

  "I've been so busy with classes, and Eric takes up the rest of my time."

  I tilted my head, resting it against my palm. "Yeah, how's that going?"

  "We're good. I think he might be ready for the next step."

  "The next step?"

  Her eyes widened. "Marriage."

  "Marriage? But we're so young—"

  "No, you're young. You forget I'm already a senior."

  "Still, though. Don't you wanna get your life together first? You know, to make sure you can take care of yourself—in case?"

  "In case?" She frowned. "See, that's your problem, Cher."

  My brows furrowed. "What is?"

  "You're so busy thinking about 'in case'. In case this, in case that, in case this man hurts you. That's all I ever hear from you."

  My hand dropped to the table. "It is not."

  "I'm telling you it is. I wish you'd stop being so scared to open up. You know, not every man is the big bad wolf. There are some really great ones out there."

  "That's not what my mom said."

  "No disrespect to your mom, but don't you think she put a lot of her own damages on you?"

  "Damages?"

  She shook her head. "I don't wanna get into a fight with you, Cher. I know how you are and I accept it because we're friends. But eventually you're gonna have to break down whatever wall you got in that brain of yours and let someone in. Preferably someone of the opposite sex."

  "I'm fine on my own."

  She cracked open a book then turned back to me. "Oh, really? Tell me then—when was the last time you went out? Like out, out."

  "I went out the other night to get a burger."

  She chuckled.

  "Shhh!" The warning to keep quiet came from a table behind us, but when I turned to see who had 'shhh'd' us, there was no one looking up from their book.

  I turned back to her. "Rude people."

  She leaned in. "Going to the corner burger joint to pick up some food by yourself does not constitute going out."

  "I went with you to that party that one time."

  She lifted her brow. "You do know that was like last semester right?"

  "Still counts." I pouted.

  She slapped my arm. "Go to work, slacker."

  I stood and grabbed my bag. "Okay, okay. Let's get together soon. You know I don't have any other friends."

  "That's 'cause you won't make any, dork."

  "Potatoe, potato." I glanced over my shoulder one last time, winking at her as I walked to the service counter to start my shift.

  I threw my bag on the floor and pulled out a small, weathered Of Mice and Men paperback, hoping to get some reading in before I was asked to assist a patron who would undoubtedly ask me to search for some obscure novel from the fifteenth century, written by someone I'd never heard of, on a subject that couldn't possibly pertain to anything related to higher learning.

  I was only a few pages in when I felt someone staring at me. My focus trailed from my book and across the counter to a pair of hands that looked rather familiar.

  This better not be…

  Before I could finish my thought, I'd already fixed my eyes on the handsome new English teacher who'd vexed me earlier.

  My throat dried up as I choked out a few words, "Yes, Mr. Donovan?" I cleared my throat again. "How may I help you?"

  "Allergies?"

  My forehead wrinkled. "No. What?"

  He motioned to his throat. "You're clearing your throat a lot. Do you have allergies?"

  "No. I'm just—I'm just thirsty."

  "Did you want me to grab you something?" he asked with concern in his voice.

  I closed my book and set it to the side. "No, thank you for the offer. How can I help you?"

  He tapped his finger against the countertop. "Straight to business then."

  My face didn't budge. I was a fortress, and his charms weren't breaking down any walls today—not on my watch.

  He pulled out a paperback from his leather bag and set it on the counter. "How many copies do you have in stock?"

  Quickly, I read the title. "Romeo and Juliet? We have plenty. Are you gonna have everyone check out a copy?"

  "No. I was thinking of just checking out around fifty to keep in class. That way it's less for the students to carry around."

  I was surprised. "Well, that's thoughtful."

  He chuckled.

  "Shhh!" Another ominous warning was delivered.

  Mr. Donovan's smile disappeared as he leaned in. "How 'bout I whisper from now on?"

  I nodded, letting the slightest of smiles escape.

  "I'm more thinking about myself. I can't stand when students forget their books. This way, no one can say they forgot."

  "A little selfish if you ask me," I whispered.

  "I am a little selfish," he returned in a low voice.

  "Like most men, I would assume."

  He straightened his posture. "You sure do hate men," he replied in a stern voice.

  "I don't hate men."

  "That's not what it sounds like to me."

  "Well, I didn't ask you, did I?"

  "No, I guess you didn't."

  Why was I being such a bitch to him? It's like he triggered an intense urge to be a wretch whenever I was around him.

  "Do you have enough copies or not?" he asked, his voice painted with irritation.

  I searched the book in the library's computer system to see how many were being stored in the warehouse.

  "This says we have enough."

  He laid his hand on the book and dragged it toward him. "Order fifty of them, and I'll come to pick them up later today, please."

  "I can have them delivered to your class."

  "Fine." He slid the book back into his bag. "Have a good day, Ms. Carson." He turned and walked away, leaving before I could say anything in return.

  REGAN

  What a fucking man-hater. I didn't care how beautiful she was. There's no way I could deal with her attitude. She needed to learn some manners, and I damn near took her over my knee to teach her some. That's exactly what she needed—a good old fashioned spanking.

  I walked through the exit, and into the bright light of the sun. I started for the parking lot when I caught sight of Sophia, a first-year math teacher, heading toward the library.

  Fuck.

  I didn't hav
e the energy to brush her off today. That woman wouldn't quit. Not since the first day, she saw me in the teacher's lounge. Don't get me wrong; she was beautiful; tall and slender, with thick dark hair and light brown eyes. In another world, she could be my type, but this wasn't another world, and she was my colleague.

  Plus, I wasn't thrilled with the way she shamelessly threw herself at me. I wanted a woman with a little more class. I turned and headed in the opposite direction, praying she wouldn't see me. Rounding the corner, I glanced over my shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief that I'd narrowly missed her.

  Before today, I honestly thought I knew women and how they operated. But after meeting Cher, all my notions were thrown out the window.

  CHER

  I'd never met a man who enraged me so goddam much. He must be just the type of man my mom warned me about. The conceited kind. The kind who couldn't care less about someone else's feelings.

  Handsome or not, there's no way I could deal with that kind of arrogance in my life. Thank god he was off-limits. It made things a whole lot easier to steer clear of him.

  "Cece," Charity's voice echoed from behind.

  I turned to her. "Hey, everything okay?"

  "Who was that guy?"

  "Who?"

  "The guy who looked like he wanted to pull your panties off with his teeth."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "The man who was just standing here."

  "Mr. Donovan? The English teacher?"

  "Ugh, he's an English teacher, too? That just made him ten times hotter in my book."

  "Hotter? My panties? What?" I looked at her, utterly confused.

  "Girl, please. That man has a thing for you. I saw it from across the room, so I know you saw it, too."

  "You need glasses because he hates me. He just left outta here in a huff."

  "Not from where I was sitting."

  I leaned in. "He's a fucking teacher. Even if I wanted to do something—which I don't—he's my teacher."

  She shrugged. "School won't last the rest of your life, and a fine ass man like that isn't going to stay single for very long. Get over your shit, Cher. Take life by the horns and live a little."

  I waved her off. "Get outta here. I'll let your mom know where to find you if she ever comes looking."

  She pointed at me and tightened her lips. "Don't you dare. I'll kick your ass."

  "You could try after she kicks yours and drags you back home." I chuckled.

  She shook her head at me as she backed away toward the exit. "Live a little, Cher. Just live."

  Just live. Pfft.

  What was she talking about? I totally live. Maybe not in the 'I party every night and drink myself silly' sense, but I totally live. I cracked open my book, replaying in my head everything Charity had said as I pretended to read.

  Just the thought of Mr. Donovan thinking of me as more than just a student made me laugh inside. That man couldn't stand me, and I had to admit the feeling was starting to be mutual. But he was handsome—so fucking handsome. I bit my bottom lip, reminiscing on the moment we shared after class.

  So fucking handsome.

  I shook his deliciousness out of my head. He was my teacher, after all, and nothing good could come of thinking about him in that way.

  The rest of my shift dragged on as I drifted about the library, picking up stray books to put away. It had been a relatively slow day, so the head librarian asked if I'd like to go home early. I certainly needed the money, but I felt like she was offering a 'get out of jail free' card, and I jumped at the chance to catch the last rays of sunlight before evening.

  I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed out the main exit, smashing into the hard, muscular wall of Reese's chest.

  "Whoa, whoa, baby girl."

  I backed away and glared at him. "I'm not your baby girl."

  "But you're pretty enough to be." He sidestepped, blocking my path. "If you would ever say yes."

  I tried to step around him. "No, thank you."

  Stretching out his arm, he blocked the sliver of exit left, impeding my escape.

  I took a deep breath, calming myself so I wouldn't tell him where he could stick his offer. "What's your problem?"

  "The question is, what's yours? You have this goddam attitude and—"

  My eyes narrowed. "I don't think I asked for your opinion, Reese. I'm sure I already told you I want nothing to do with you. But if I wasn't clear in my delivery, please let me reiterate—I'm not interested in Neanderthals."

  "Did you just call me a Neanderthal? Do you know how many women would give anything to be standing in your shoes right now?"

  "Then call them," I sassed, pushing by him.

  The nerve. Fucking animal.

  I made my way to my dorm room and threw my books on the desk, catching sight of a framed picture of my mother and me smiling. It was the same picture I had resized to fit in my locket, which I wore everywhere, always wanting her with me.

  My mother never smiled, though she had the most beautiful one I'd ever seen. I traced over the glass, wishing I could hug her one last time, or ask her advice on any trivial thing filtering through my mind.

  Tears began to prick the back of my eyes, and before I could catch one, it rolled down my cheek. I promptly wiped it away, hoping the universe hadn't seen my weakness. I had to stay strong for her and everything she'd given up to get me here.

  My life's goal was to make her proud even if she wasn't around to see it. I set the picture back on the desk and laid down on the bed, nestling my head into the pillow, thinking about Mr. Donovan and the way his hands felt against mine. Even though he made me nuts, I couldn't get him out of my mind. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the things I would do to him if he weren't my teacher, and I didn't have a deep seeded hatred for men.

  LOSING FOCUS

  The sound of crinkling paper coming from the bottom of the door startled me from my dream. Eyeing the green eight by eleven flyer sliding across the beige tile, the word Party printed in large font across the top caught my attention right away.

  I almost tossed it in the trash when Charity's voice wafted through my head, reminding me that I was a hermit with ten-foot walls surrounding me at all times. I decided getting out might not be such a bad idea, and since I hadn't been to a party in a while, this might be the perfect opportunity. It had to be better than sitting inside the four drab walls of my room.

  What can it hurt?

  I shrugged as I took note of the address provided then set it down to look in my closet for something to wear. Not wanting to invite the wrong kind of attention, I pulled out a pair of faded blue jeans with rips all along the knees, and a ragged black sweater, two sizes too big on me from the hamper. I took one last look in the mirror to tousle my hair and throw on some lip gloss before heading out the door to, what would hopefully be, a night of much-needed relaxation.

  I was halfway down the street when the music from the party began to blare around me. It was so loud that I said a little prayer I'd be able to hear clearly in the morning. A few more steps and soon I merged into a parade of scantily clad women and raging jocks, screaming at the top of their lungs while holding red plastic cups, which were filled with alcohol, by the way they smelled.

  One of the guys draped his arm over my shoulders, breathing beer into my face as he nuzzled his nose into my cheek. "Hey, baby. Are you coming to the party?"

  I was instantly thrown out of my element, feeling utterly uncomfortable. I nonchalantly slid his arm off my shoulders, taking a step to the side before saying, "Yeah, I'll be right there. I just have to go get something from my room."

  His lips turned down at the corners. "Oh, c'mon. Don't let a big guy like me scare you away."

  A woman sauntered up from behind me, grabbing his hand as she brushed by. "Leave the little girl alone, Mike. She looks like a Debbie Downer anyway. Look at that sweater." She eyed my outfit like a hawk zeroing in on its prey.

  I waved. "Yeah, you two g
o have fun."

  He shrugged. "We'll see you there, and change that sweater, babe."

  "More like burn that sweater," the woman sneered, pushing him toward the party.

  "I'm on my way to do just that—burn my sweater." Grabbing at the tattered edges, I threw out a fake chuckle and spun around to head back to my dorm.

  The rest of the crowd breezed by me like a hurricane raring to do damage in their wake, and I was slightly relieved I'd decided not to be a part of it. I wasn't ready to deal with more than one nasty comment about my attire or have another sweaty jock drape himself over me, thinking I should feel lucky for the attention.

  Rounding the corner of a large stone building, I was startled by a flash of warm liquid splashing across my face. I stood there—mouth gaped—eyes wide open—stunned.

  "What the hell?"

  "Oh, my goodness. I'm so sorry."

  I knew that voice. I wanted that voice. "Mr. Donovan." I opened my eyes, and there he stood, handsome as ever.

  Unfortunately, there I stood drenched in coffee, wearing an outfit that was about as flattering as a tablecloth. With the arm of my sweater, I wiped the coffee off my face.

  "Call me Regan, please. I'm so sorry, Cher. What can I do?" He laid his hand on my shoulder.

  I glanced over to his hand, which he promptly pulled away. "Can I pay for your dry cleaning?"

  "For these rags? Don't worry about it, Mr. Donovan. I was headed home anyway."

  He pointed behind me. "You're not going to the party down the street? Isn't that where all the cool kids are going?"

  I looked up, shaking my head. "They're not really my crowd."

  He smiled. "Yeah, I wouldn't think so."

  My brow lifted. "What's that mean?" I asked, slightly offended, thinking we were going to pick up right where we left off in the library.

  Did he think I wasn't pretty enough to be included in the popular crowd?

  "I meant you have a certain air about you, and—"

  "An 'air about me'—really? What kind of air?"

  "Do we really need to butt heads again?" he asked sincerely.