CHAPTER 8

Samantha:

I follow Abby through the cafeteria line, picking up random items and placing them on my tray without really looking at them. It doesn’t really matter what I buy because I probably won’t eat much anyway. I’m too distracted to eat. All I can think about is Gavin and our conversation in the classroom a little bit ago.

Abby picks a table and I shadow her to it, then pull out a chair and sit, poke my plastic fork into something I’m pretty sure is supposed to pass for mac and cheese.

“Hello… Sam? Are you with us?” Abby’s been talking all this time—which isn’t at all unusual for Abby—but I haven’t heard a word of it. In fact, I was so distracted I didn’t even notice Maggie join us. But here she is, sitting across from me, looking very concerned for me.

“Sorry,” I say halfheartedly.

“Are you still mad at me about the Michael thing?” Maggie asks waving her hand in the air with a dramatic flourish. Everything she does is with flare. Maggie fancies herself the next great actress, and truth be told, she’s probably right. She has an elegance and grace about her that I could practice at for a hundred years and never achieve.

“The Michael thing?” The thing where she told me I had find a new place to live? “Actually, no. It’s not so bad.”

Abby looks back and forth between us. “Wait… what Michael thing? What’s not so bad?”

Has she already forgotten?

Maggie holds up her left hand regally. “You know… him proposing and wanting to move in officially.”

Abby shoves a forkful of salad into her mouth and nods, then says while chewing, “Right. You kicked Sam out.”

“I did not kick Sam out.” Maggie sets both hands over her heart like she’s mortally wounded. “We just asked her to consider looking for a place of her own, and she was welcome to stay as long as she needed.”

I tamp down a swell of hurt and remind myself that I’m happy for my friend. I really do want her to be happy. Plus, if she hadn’t asked me to find another place, I wouldn’t have called Robby and wouldn’t have my hot new teacher as a roomie. She did me a favor.

“So where are you staying now?” Abby asks after taking a swig from her water bottle.

“With Robby,” I answer simply.

Maggie brightens. “That’s right! I forgot he had a spare room. That’s perfect for you! And so close to campus. How convenient!”

I look down at my tray in an effort not to give anything away. But Maggie has always been able to read me like a book. There’s no bluffing or keeping anything from her.

“What are you not telling me, Sam?” Maggie leans forward with her elbows on the table, a clear indication that she’s not going to let me off the hook until I answer her.

“Actually, he already had a roommate, so I’m using the alcove as my bedroom.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Maggie says.

At the same time, Abby asks, “A roommate? Anyone we know? Is he cute?”

How the hell do I answer that?

“Yeah, kinda,” I finally say. I’m hoping she’ll assume my answer is to her question of whether he’s cute and not if it’s anyone she knows.

No such luck, though. “Who is it?”

“Gavin,” I mutter and take a giant bite of brownie. If my mouth is full, I can’t answer any more questions. At least, that’s my theory.

“Gavin?” Maggie asks in confusion. “Do we know a Gavin?”

Abby shakes her head. “Don’t think so. Gavin what?”

I briefly consider not answering, but that will only make them press harder. “Moore,” I say around my bite of brownie, and watch them mull over the name.

“Gavin Moore...” Maggie looks thoughtfully into the air trying to place the name. She’s not in Anthropology with me and Abby, so she’s not going to guess this one.

Abby on the other hand… she’s a real risk. She stares at me for a moment before her eyebrows reach for her hairline, and she practically shouts, “Mr. Moore?” Ding ding ding! We have a winner.

“Shhhhh!” I wave my hand between us in a gesture that clearly says lower your damn voice. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone!”

“Who’s Mr. Moore?” Maggie asks.

Abby immediately drops her tone to a near whisper and leans in. “You’re living with magnificent Mr. Moore?”

I snicker. “Is that what you call him?”

“Guys… who is Mr. Moore? And what makes him so magnificent?” Maggie’s starting to get frustrated that we’re not answering her, but I’m not going to say anything more than I already have.

Abby answers for me. “Mr. Gavin Moore is the TA filling in for our Anthropology professor for the rest of the semester. And he’s insanely gorgeous. Like, he had me drooling the first time I saw him.”

“That’s not saying a lot.” I shoot her a teasing smile, and she responds by sticking out her tongue at me.

“Oooooh, tell me more.” Maggie turns to me. “More about Moore.” She chuckles at her own words, but she’s the only one.

I shrug and return my attention to my food. “There’s nothing to tell. He’s Robby’s roommate. I didn’t know that when I asked to stay there, and he didn’t even realize I was in the class until this morning.”

“Is that why he wanted you to stay after class?” Abby asks, then sucks in an excited gasp. “Have you guys hooked up yet?” Of course she would ask that. She’d have been all over Gavin the first night if she were in my shoes.

“No!” I answer emphatically.

“But you’re totally going to,” Maggie chimes in.

“No, we’re not going to hook up. I’m his student,” I whisper my response while looking around to make sure no one is listening to our conversation.

Abby laughs. “Yeah, and you’re totally hot for teacher.”

I blush but don’t deny it. I am hot for Gavin.

“So, are you going to waste this opportunity the universe has thrown in your lap, or are you going to make Mama proud?” Abby asks seriously.

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you Mama in this weird scenario?”

Abby doesn’t miss a beat. “Damn straight. Now, answer the question, young lady! Are you going to start doing your homework?”

“I don’t know Abs. I’m not good at this kind of thing. I’m not even sure how I would go about trying to… make you proud.”

Maggie pipes up, “By asking to earn some extra credit, of course.” She waggles her eyebrows at me to drive home her point. As if I could have missed her meaning.

“That’s what I said!” Abby agrees. “Ask him for a little… one-on-one tutoring.”

“Yeah, if only it were that simple,” I mumble, stirring my mac and cheese absently.

“Oh oh, maybe you can practice your oral…” Maggie pauses far longer than she needs to, “presentation on him.”

With a snicker, Abby follows up with, “Or you could be naughty so he’ll have to take you… to task.”

They high-five like dude bros and dissolve into laughter.

“He’s so fucking hot, Mags,” Abby tells her. “If I were in Sam’s shoes, I’d already be studying furiously under him.”

I roll my eyes and focus my attention on my lunch as they continue to throw out teacher-student puns for the next few minutes. They are not going to let this go any time soon.

~

I don’t see Gavin at home that night. I’m asleep long before he comes home, and he’s gone before I get up Thursday morning. The man moves through the apartment like a ghost. I only know he’s there when he wants me to know. Resolving to officially channel my inner Abby and make my own opportunities, I decide that I’ll have to catch him where I can have him as a captive audience if I’m going to get the chance to make a move.

Gavin is already in his classroom when I stop in before my first of two Thursday classes. I got up earlier than usual and took a little extra care with my look today. So, when I strut into the room in my skin-tight jeans and even tighter faux-leather bustier over a semi-sheer maroon Tee with cap sleeves, I have no doubt I looked good.

He sucks in a shallow breath at the sight of me, then looks me over from hair to heel and back again, eyes alight with interest. And his reaction is just an extra boost to my already overblown ego. I feel like a siren crossing the room to his desk and sitting on the edge of it. I cross my legs at the knee and brace one stiletto-booted foot on the edge of his chair, barely more than an inch from his thigh. “Morning, Mr. Moore,” I greet cheerfully.

“Sam.” He nods in response. Something about the way he says my name is both warning and invitation all at once.

I ignore the warning and take the invitation to heart, shifting closer to him. He looks nervously toward the door and swallows hard, but he doesn’t try to put any extra space between us. I take it as a sign that he’s okay with my flirtation. “I wanted to tell you how much I’ve been enjoying Anthropology class lately.”

“Yes, you seem to be very… studious.” The corner of his mouth quirks up. He’s teasing me!

“Well, I’m finding the subject to be a lot more interesting than I thought it was.” I use my foot to pull his chair fractionally closer to me.

His eyes slide closed, and his hands ball into white-knuckled fists on the arms of his chair, like maybe he’s fighting the urge to touch me. Emboldened by the idea, I continue, “Do you do any tutoring?”

Gavin turns his head in my direction, but I don’t have the guts to make eye contact. Instead, I focus on the collar of his light blue button-down shirt.

“I don’t tutor,” he answers in a voice much more guarded than it was just a moment ago, but he doesn’t move away. Am I making a fool of myself? I suddenly feel overly self-conscious. He basically just shot me down, but was it because he isn’t interested or because he’s trying to maintain a respectful distance from his student? There’s nothing respectful about the lack of distance between our two bodies right now, and he’s doing nothing to put space between us.

Until the classroom door swings open and a handful of students begin filtering in. Then he launches away from me so fast, I’m surprised the wheels of his chair don’t leave skid marks on the floor.

“Do you have a class you need to get to?” He’s telling me to leave.

Not one to overstay my welcome, I straighten away from his desk. “Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

He looks around nervously when I say that, like I’ve just announced to the world that we live together or something. Well, so much for opportunity. I probably should not have picked the few minutes before class. I’ll just have to try again. Maybe during office hours.