“I didn’t know it was that bad.”
I rub my jaw. “Whatever. I’ll move on.”
“Not like this you won’t.”
I turn my head to him. “And what do you suggest?”
“Date. Find someone new. I’ll set you up.”
I fix him with a glare. “No, thank you.”
“Come on. You need it. At the very least, you need a distraction. Just the company of a beautiful woman over a delicious dinner. What’s wrong with that?”
She won’t be Claire, I think. But I can’t say that out loud. He already thinks I’m a sap.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, keeping it noncommittal. I have to maintain some semblance of a reputation. At this point, I’ve ruined whatever street cred I had with these guys by acting like a teenage girl.
“Ready to start?” Aaron asks, reappearing with a bowl full of chips.
“Let’s go,” I say.
But I’m never going to be ready to start over from Claire.
CHAPTER 7
Claire
On Monday afternoon,my cubicle is filled to the brim with students. Ellie told her friend Jack, who told his buddy Rodrigo, and word got out that Professor Beaumont was helping students in her office with prerequisite algebra skills.
I try to give each student individual attention, just a couple of minutes to look over their problems, before moving to the next. It’s exhausting, but so, so fulfilling.
I have so many students that some of them are perched in Ryan’s cubicle, too. Ryan, whom I haven’t seen since I announced I was engaged last Monday.
His absence looms over me. I feel incomplete without his jokes and presence. He’s half of what I love about this job. Sure, teaching is amazing and fulfilling, but having my best friend work right beside me made this the best job ever.
And maybe it’s selfish, but I also miss talking to him about my book. I’ve been working on the synopsis, and I’m getting more clarity on the dark moment of the story. Ryan is the only person who knows about the book, and I feel lost without his support.
I’ve been trying to figure out what he’s thinking, and the only explanation for his behavior is that I’m engaged. But does he think that means we can’t be friends? That would be ridiculous. I wish he’d give me a chance to talk to him, but he’s completely gone, and every text I’ve sent has been answered with a “sorry, things are so busy!”excuse.
As I’m bent down fixing Rodrigo’s solution to a system of linear equations, my gigantic ring catches the light. “Yikes, Professor B. That ring is blinding. Your fiancé must be loaded.”
Hah.
I ignore his comment and point out the place where he forgot to distribute a negative when I hear a throat clearing behind me. It’s Liam Patel, a fellow math professor and snooty know-it-all. He glares down at me, his thin-framed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, and his sweater vest judging my every move.
“Wow, look at you,” he sneers. “So many students needing help.”
If those words came from anyone else, I’d take it as a compliment. But coming from Liam, it’s criticism. He must think I’m not teaching well enough, so they need extra time outside of class to learn the material.
I just paste on a big grin. “Yep. I love helping my students.”
“Looks like you’re running a tutoring center,” he says, a smirk on his face.
It’s like a lightbulb goes off in my head.
A tutoring center.
Granted, Liam didn’t mean it in a positive way, but I don’t even care. I feel the fake grin on my lips turn into a huge, genuine smile. “Liam, I could hug you right now.”
