Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

My heart drops, twisting in my stomach like an elephant trying to fit into a hamster wheel. Nausea and panic pulsate head to toe. I blink repeatedly, trying to wake up from this nightmare. This can't be happening. No. No. No.

But it is him.

You're fucking kidding me.

Two hundred students snap their heads towards me at once.

I did NOT just say that out loud, did I?

I clear my throat and pretend to fix the headset.

"Uh, you're fucking kidding me, this mic sounds great." I smile with strained nonchalance.

Awkward chuckles fill the room while I mentally smack myself and glare at Jake, who's smirking like I'm some free entertainment.

I turn and face the blackboard, forcing my mind to concentrate on grabbing a piece of chalk and sliding it across the green surface. When I turn back around, I'm in control.

"Hi, everyone. I'm Doctor Ayan, but I go by Mia. Welcome to Psychology of Trauma, 205."

Thanks to my million rehearsals, I breeze through the syllabus and grading system, explaining the timeline of the quarter and setting expectations. "Your grade will be based on your midterm and final scores. In the event you get a failing grade, you can attend shadow hours in my therapy sessions for extra credit."

Someone in the front row raises their hand. My cheeks heat when I see who it is.

"What are your office hours?" Jake asks.

I feign a casual tone. "Mondays and Wednesdays, at 5:30."

This is the same guy I flirted with. Same guy I wrapped my legs around. Correction: this is a student that I had my legs wrapped around. My student.

I'm going to jail.

No, I'm going to throw up.

I'm going to throw up and then go to jail.

When class is over, I fly to my car and speed home. "I'm done, I'm screwed, I'm utterly and majorly fucked." I repeat all the way to my apartment, all the way to my laptop, all the way until I find Jake's name in my university's account. A Google search confirms that it really is him.

I obsessively read and re-read every line of the university policies.

"Ok, he's a month older than me, so I'm not going to jail. Good. Good. That's good. But my career's gone. Goodbye hundred fifty thousand dollars, goodbye six years of sweat and tears."

My phone rings with a text message from my mom. Though we rarely call, I'm desperate for a distraction. "Hi mom." I say calmly when she answers.

"Hi dear. How are you?"

"Good, had my first class today. Went really well." Minus the fact that it was also my last.

"Good for you. Why wouldn't it? You're incredible."

"Thanks mom, that means a lot." I say with a flat face, wishing she meant it.

"Honey, my phone bill is due soon. You'll pay for it as always, right?"

"Both of your accounts are enrolled in automatic payments, it gets deducted out of my bank account the same day every month."

"Oh thanks honey, what would I do without you?"

I don't know. And that's the issue.

Though the more urgent question is: what in the world am I going to do about Jake?

~~~

On Wednesday, I hold the first office hours and get a few visits. Mostly nerds who are already freaking out about the midterm. While they rant, I make up short songs with their names to remember them later when they participate in class.

By some blessing, Jake's nowhere to be found, which means he's either forgotten about the kiss, doesn't care about it, or is plotting my ultimate demise.

Around 6pm, the building is quiet. I seem to be the only lunatic sticking around. The only noise is from chirping birds and distant traffic floating in through the window. The golden sunset that had draped the walls of the room is now dimmed with indigo twilight.

My head is in my notebook with the to-do list for the weekend. I want to ask Dr. Dennis if I can hold a weekend seminar; a couple of students are interested in Pete Walker's psychotherapy methods, and I don't have enough space in the syllabus to give it as much time as it deserves.

"Good evening, Professor." A husky voice jolts my thoughts and my muscles go rigid.

I flinch and clutch my chest before it bursts. Then hold it tighter when I see it's Jake leaning against my door. A towering temptation of trouble.

"Sorry." He smiles unapologetically.

I storm past him and stick my head out the door, checking for witnesses.

"We're alone..." Jake murmurs.

"Shhh!" I pull back and bring him inside to close the door. "Is this it? You here for blackmail?"

His brows furrow. "No? The hell would I blackmail--"

"Listen to me, I'm not going to do anything for you, alright? I'd rather get fired than let you think you have any sort of power over me."

He arches a brow. "I'm glad you have strong principles, but that's not what I'm here for. Why do you think I waited until everyone left to talk to you?"

My heartbeat thumps in my ears as I study his face. Heat burns my face under his calm and faintly mischievous gaze.

"Fair point." I look away.

His smile widens."Now...did you seriously run away on Friday?"

"Of course not, I got kicked out."

"That's funny." He smirks. "Because when security kicked me out, they said you ran. Yeah, they've never seen someone in heels sprint like that before. They said you shoved some people, then fell down the stairs on your way out."

Is it really hot here?

I sigh with a grimace. "Alright, look. I messed up, ok? I fucked up. Can you please forget about it? I just got this job and it means everything to me. Please don't tell anyone."

"No problem," he tilts his head with a crooked smile. "You'll be my secret."

"Uh," I scoff with fever, "no, that's not what I meant. I mean, forget about the club version of me. Just, start from scratch. I'm your professor, you're my student. Nothing more."

He lowers his gaze to my blushing chest then slowly looks up. "You sure?"

"One hundred percent."

"Ok, prove it."

"Huh?"

He takes one confident, lazy step forward. I step back with a skyrocketing pulse. He keeps his eyes on me and takes another. I retreat again but my thighs hit the desk. His body heat and sandalwood cologne make my chest heave and lips part.

Jake looks at me while I look everywhere else. He exhales a low, rugged breath while I gulp and hold mine. He stays still while my heart throws itself against my ribcage.

"Liar." He smiles.

My eyes snap up to his. I'm ready to give him a few choice of words, but he spins around and leaves.


~~Author's Note ~~

Question: What was your favorite subject in school/college?


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