Chapter 9

Samantha:

My classes drag on forever. By the end of my second one, I’m checking the time every five minutes in anticipation of finally being done. Most days, I’m in a hurry to race across campus to meet Abby and our other friend Maggie at the cafeteria for lunch. But today… well, I have plans in mind. I obsess all day, running the morning’s encounter with Gavin over and over in my head and picking it apart until I’ve mentally inspected every second of the time we spent together. And I’m still conflicted. On the one hand, he is my teacher. Flirting with him the way I did could get him into trouble if anyone found out. On the other hand, he’s hella cute in a way that makes me want throw caution to the wind and kiss him right in the middle of class. Hell, I spent most of class yesterday admiring him anyway. And I wasn’t exactly careful about making sure no one knew I was looking.

But at least right now, it looks like I’m just a schoolgirl with a crush. I know I should do the responsible thing and stop trying to find ways to be near him at school. But being responsible isn’t exactly my forte.

When my last class finally gets out, I have to resist the urge to check my hair for grays, because it feels like a million and one years have passed just since this morning. As usual, Abby is waiting for me in the hall. “Wanna go to the mall?” she asks, checking her reflection in the glass encasing the fire extinguisher. Translation: do I want to spend the next hour or so following her around while she tries on a bunch of clothes she isn’t going to buy and then drive her back to campus after.

Even on a day when I have nothing better to do, it isn’t something I feel particularly drawn to. But today, I unequivocally do not want to go to the mall with her. All I want to do is get more time alone with Gavin. “Nah, I’m not really feeling like peopling today.” Hopefully, she’ll accept that excuse and let it drop.

I shuffle my books around and try to casually move our conversation closer to the exit so I can get to Archer Hall. Hopefully Abby won’t notice my preoccupation with the door behind her, but even if she did, I wouldn’t care too much. As long as I get to where I’m trying to go in time.

Abby eyes me suspiciously, then finally shrugs. “Suit yourself. I got a lot of homework I should be doing anyway. Call me later?”

“Definitely.” We half hug, and Abby skips off in the direction of the cafeteria.

Once she’s out of sight, I book it to Archer Hall and skid to a stop just inside the entrance. I take a tentative step toward Mr. Peterson’s office. I’m operating on the hope that Gavin keeps the same office hours that Peterson did. The hallway has all but emptied by this point, with everyone either getting into their next class or heading off to whatever it is they do this time of day. If he’s in there, hopefully he’s alone.

The door is propped open, and I stand in the doorway for a moment surveying the inside of the room. Gavin is seated at his desk looking through a stack of papers and doesn't appear to notice me right away.

I take a few steps into the room and clear my throat. Gavin looks up in surprise, but his expression softens into a half-smile as soon as our eyes meet. “Sam.”

I give him a low wave and shift from foot to foot. Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure what to do next.

Gavin must recognize my uncertainty and take pity on me because he rises from his desk and crosses the room to stand in front of me. “What can I do for you, Sam?” The words are full of meaning and promise and send a pleasant shiver racing down my spine.

They also gave me courage. “I forgot something in class yesterday.”

“And this morning?” he asks pointedly, referring to the fact that I was in his classroom with him just this morning and didn’t say a word about forgetting anything.”

Busted. But I’m not about to admit defeat.

“Yes.” Here’s hoping I’m not blushing furiously and giving myself away.

“What’s that?” He looks around the room, paying particular attention to my usual seat.

You, I want to say, but instead, I answer, “I forgot to write down the pages for the reading assignment.” Ugh. Could I be any lamer?

Disappointment flashes across his face before his features take on a shuttered, unreadable expression. “Oh, it was pages 288 through 312.” He turns away from me in the direction of his desk.

“Gavin?”

He does a slow about-face and waits but doesn’t comment on me calling him Gavin instead of Mr. Moore. I make a mental note not to call him Gavin in front of any other students or faculty.

And now that I have his attention, I have to say something. I wrack my brain for words, feeling more foolish by the second. Finally, “Could you run through this information about the Vikings and the treatment of women in their society differing from what archaeologists originally thought. I want to make sure I fully incorporate it into my paper.” My paper about tenets of feminism and women’s roles in ancient cultures; that’s what I bring up. What I really want to talk to him about is his role in my fantasies. I slip my backpack from my shoulders and ruffle through until I find my tablet. Then I pull up one of the ancillary texts I found on the Viking culture and display it split screen with my digital textbook. Then I finally meet Gavin’s gaze. It’s a lie; I understood every word of the reading assignment as well as the ideas presented in the ancillary text, but it seems like as good an excuse as any to spend a few extra minutes with him.

His expression brightens, and for just a moment, I let myself pretend it’s because he’s excited about spending a few minutes in my company.

“Sure, come on over and have a seat.” He leads me to the pair of chairs in front of his desk and leans casually against the arm of one.

I consider sitting in that chair for proximity, but I’m not that brave. I take the seat next to it.

“What can I help you with?” he asks as soon as I’m settled, leaning over me to see my tablet screen.

“Well…” I take my time skimming through the pages, buying myself extra time to make something up. When I land on a page from last night’s assignment, I stop and trace my finger down to the section on the identification of Viking remains previously assumed to be male because they were buried with armor and weapons. “I guess I’m just having trouble understanding how they missed the fact that they were female in the first place. You know, like because of skeletal differences and all that…?” I probably sound like an idiot, but all I can think about is how close Gavin is. He’s just inches away, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over my cheek.

“Well, the text doesn’t say for sure, but my personal opinion is that they missed it, in part, due to our own cultural biases against women. They saw the armor and weaponry and just assumed. I’d recommend you research it further. I think you have something worth exploring here,” he says in a soft voice, and I’m not sure we’re talking about the book anymore. His hands are palm-down on the surface of the desk, bracing his weight as he leans over me.

And now I can’t deny the urge to turn on the charm. Channeling my inner Abby is easier than I thought. I reach out and trace a fingertip down his forearm, smoothing a gentle line toward his hand. “You’re so insightful. I still think I need you,” I leave a long pause before I finish my sentence, “as a tutor.”

“I would love to tutor you.” He sounds like he means it. “But it wouldn’t be appropriate.” That last part doesn’t sound at all sincere, though.

“Why’s that?” I do my best to sound as naive as possible, even going so far as to innocently bat my eyelashes at him. I’m playing with fire here, but I can’t stop. The thrill is just too great.

“You’re a very beautiful young woman, Sam…” He doesn’t finish whatever thought he was considering.

“You think I’m beautiful?” A smile threatens to overtake me, but I do my best to hold it back and school my features. Sure, I’m fishing for the compliment, but I don’t need to make it obvious. Instead, I focus on the tablet screen in front of me, as if I’m reading, trying to figure out the mysteries of the page.

He sighs and scrubs a hand down his face before pushing away from the desk. “I do. I also think we’re walking a fine line right now as roommates. I’d rather not give anyone any more reason to talk.”

I string together my faltering courage, square my shoulders, and give him my best carefree smile. “I should probably get to work.”

I can tell the exact moment my words register because his entire demeanor changes and he backs up several feet. “Of course. I was just getting ready to pack up to leave. I’ll walk out with you.” As if to prove his words, he strolls back to his desk, grabs a briefcase from underneath, and shoves the stack of papers he’d been leafing through into it. I pack my own things quickly, and by the time he’s packed and makes it to the door, I’m already there waiting for him.

Straggling students and faculty alike still wander about in the halls and sidewalks on the way to the parking lot, and Gavin seems to be taking extra care to keep a respectful distance from me. No one pays us any attention, though, and in minutes, we’re standing next to my car.

“See you later,” he calls and heads away without a backward glance.

“Yeah, see ya,” I call to no one because by the time I answer, he’s already inside his truck with the engine running. I climb into my own vehicle and start it up, wait for him to back out and pull out behind him. Even though we aren’t going to the exact same place, my work is so close to the apartment he has to pass right by it to get home, which makes it look like I’m following him almost the whole way. I make a mental note to approach him about carpooling. We might as well. We have the same hours on campus, except Fridays when he goes and I don’t. Plus, it will let me spend more time with him. Because that’s what I need, more time in close quarters with my teacher and roommate. As if I’m not already totally googley-eyed for him.