Chapter 7: Part 7

My eyes couldn't stop gawking at the person in front of me. Actually, no. That's a lie. I tried, very hard I might add to think of my favourite lines by Emily, the solitude she might have experienced to come up with those.

But why would my brain think of anything else when faced with defined biceps and messy curls, those long legs beautifully showcased by black trousers.

Breath caught in my throat as the Alpha slowly turned towards us, his back facing the board, collar popped out to expose the sharp collarbones. Abels jaw was set, eyes raking at the first bench as he greeted the usual fans in the front.

I scoffed under my breath. Only if they knew the true devil behind that facade they would be running for hills.

"You're staring, Emma," Naya muttered from my side, planting a sharp elbow against mine. Which, ouch. I was startled out of my frozen state, sitting upright and shaking my head. The denial was sharp on my tongue when I stared at our English Professor again.

Moons! He appeared so tall from a distance. So tall, so pretty. Then again, Abel has always been eye candy from the start, ambling around all bright eyes and ringlet curls.

Okay, stop. Get a grip, Emma. I chided myself, averting my eyes from him. He had been nothing if not arrogant and rude from the start.

"I'm not staring," I murmured to Naya, typing at the space bar, mainly for something to do with my fingers. My nerve endings were twitching with a restless buzz, feet shifting.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Avon emerge in typing away at the laptop, his lip between his teeth. The Alpha had asked me to sit with him, but there was only one seat in the row. I didn't want to miss out on talking with Naya and catching up with her, so I passed the chance.

"Do you expect me to buy that?" Naya snickered, her perfectly shaped brow raising at me. As always, she was dressed in matching plaids, her hair tied in a high ponytail, lips painted in hot pink. For a long second, I thought how she was the only one who could pull off this look with ease.

“It’s the truth.”

I could feel the precise moment when the Professor’s gaze landed on me; I saw the way his eyes widened briefly before they narrow, combined with a sudden frown that’s obvious even in the red-tinted light spilling out from behind the counter. Abel rolled his shoulders back and met my stare for a long, lurching heartbeat.

“Pleased to see everyone looking excited for the class to begin…” He cleared his throat, a remote in his hand which controlled the white screen behind. “First let me brief you all about the poets of our semester. In my class you will be learning about poets such as Wordsworth, Frost, Blake, and, a personal favourite, Bukowski.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the last name. Bukowski is his favourite? Moons. No wonder the Alpha acted entitled and class A prick with me. The poet had the same kind of reputation around.

“Funny how people are what they read,” I whispered with a snicker to Naya sitting next to me, hunching so that Abel would not be able to spot us talking. My friend slapped a hand over her mouth to control the giggle from escaping her.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made me straighten up.

“Do you have a comment, Miss Emma? Please do share with the class.”

It took me a few moments to realise that the students turned towards me. Abel inched a step further, almost leaning against the first row, closing the distance between us.

A lump formed in my throat at the sudden attention, their gazes burning into my skin. I was never good with confrontation, especially in public which was why my knees felt shaky. Somehow I managed to stand up, fingers gripping on the edge of the bench. Avon had his eyes trained on me, giving me an encouraging smile.

“Go on. I would like to hear what is more interesting than paying attention to my class.”

I glared at him, grinding my molars. “I think Bukowski is an interesting poet to make your favourite, considering he has a bit of a reputation for being a misogynist. Not to mention his alcohol abuse problem and blatant disregard for social norms.”

Suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the silence in the class, I roamed my eyes around. They were looking at Abel, perhaps waiting for him to laugh it off quickly. Instead, the Alpha narrowed his eyes, a curve in his upper lip.

“I believe that one should enjoy art regardless of the artist's personal life.”

“That’s absurd! How can a poet or anyone else, for that matter, write without pouring a bit of his personality? The art they make reflects beliefs and the ideas within them. We are indirectly encouraging that kind of behaviour by funding the work they have created.”

He crossed his arms, the muscles bulging under that shirt, eyes following the line of vision for a moment. “Are you saying that only virtuous, noble men deserve to write poetry? One should be able to separate art from the artist.”

“So have an entire section dedicated to his works?! What about Dickinson? Or anyone who doesn’t hate women?”

He set his lips in a firm line, tone snarky. “As much as I am enjoying the way this conversation is heading, let me stop you here, Miss Emma. I do not set the syllabus, so why don’t you take it up with the authority?”

My face flamed at that, watching as a few students covered their mouths to hide a snicker. It was humiliating. Apologising, I plopped down on the seat, trying not to hide under the bench.

Abel walked back to the podium, turned to the class and began with the class.

***

Exhaling hotly, I found a bitter anger building in my gut throughout the class. It infuriated me the manner in which Abel behaved: so arrogant and powerful.

I prayed for the lecture to end; simply being under the constant scrutiny of his intrigued eyes was taxing enough.

“That was cool!” Avon said with a chuckle, his books slamming on my desk. “You put him in place! Wow!”

“Is that what happened?” I raised my brow, cheeks still hot.

“Yes! You owned him, babe.” Naya hummed, stretching her stocking-clad legs before standing up.

“Why don’t I feel like that? He’s just so….”

“Arrogant?”

“Hostile?”

“Condescending?”

I giggled, standing up. “All of above, actually.”

While on the way out, I ducked my head, not willing to see his face when he stopped me.

“Miss Emma. Please follow me to the office. I need to talk with you.”

Chills ran down my spine at the hostile tone, my feet halting in the middle of the room and hair on the back of my neck rising. Naya turned to me, silently asking me for permission when I nodded my head. The last thing I wanted was to drag them into my mess.

“Don’t tell me you are planning on yelling at her again.” Avon huffed, his chin rising in defiance.

My mouth parted at the tone of his voice, his confidence stance. Did they know each other? Why would Avon not tell me about it? I thought with a twist of my lips.

“You are my student here, Mister Avon. Know your limits.”

Rolling his eyes, my friend turned to me. “Let’s go, Emma.”

I flickered my eyes between both of them, suddenly thinking back of that one scene in the twilight. Scoffing to myself, I stood up straighter and gave an awkward smile to my friends.

“Umm…I can handle it. See you later.”

Avon opened his mouth to say something but instead turned on his feet and rushed out. Naya waved at me, lost at the events unfolding in the room.

“Bye.” I croaked, watching as she left the class, hair bouncing due to the gust of wind blowing inside.

Abel’s jaw was locked, his gaze fixed on expanse of my exposed throat. At that moment, I felt like prey being accessed by the predator, swallowing noisily, shifting awkwardly on my feet.

As soon as everyone trickled out, the Alpha motioned me to follow him.

Once inside his office, he leaned against the desk, wood digging harshly into his back, arms crossed together.

“Come closer.” His eyes trailed across my body, that amused twist to his mouth sticking meanwhile, I was forced to focus on keeping an even respiration.

I stopped for a slight moment and squinted dubiously at my Professor, properly appraising the older man for the first time since we entered the office.

“I don’t bite, Miss Emma.”

“I-I am not scared of you.” My voice slightly wavered, feet wobbly as I came to stand in front of him, meeting his stare.

“Guess it’s time to change that then.”

***