He looks pained for me. What he doesn’t know is how excited I am to share a bed with him. But I’ll take advantage of everything he gives me.
As I take a step closer, I catch a hint of something in his eyes, something I can't pinpoint.
“Can I call you Blake? You’re hardly my professor anymore.”
“I still have to grade your final assignment," he says, letting me know he's still very much my professor. "I don’t think that’s a good idea.” There’s a strain in him, like he’s stiffer than he was all afternoon. He's been like that ever since everyone else left.
“It’d help make all this less awkward, please.”
I bat my eyelashes. I imagine a guy like him isn't fazed by something like that, but if there's anything I've learned in life, it's that you should always give it a try.
I expect a huff, like the one that he gave so many times during his classes, or that look that cuts sharp and makes sure you stay behind. But there's nothing like that, he frowns but nods.
“Sure, you can call me Blake.”
That was easy. A bit too easy.
After a day like today, I'm sure he's not in the mood for games.
Too bad. Because I certainly am.
As soon as we lay down next to each other, I strike again.
“It’s a bit weird, isn’t it, Blake? Sleeping with someone you don’t know,” I say, even though it might not be as uncomfortable for him as it is for me. Just the fact that he’s laying so close is enough to know I won’t sleep for a single second, despite my exhaustion.
“It is.” He answers, not giving me much.
“I've got an idea! Why don't we ask each other a question about ourselves? Sharing something will help make it feel less like we're sleeping with a stranger.”
He exhales deeply, almost as if he doesn't have the patience to deal with me. I don't care, I don't want to sleep, anyway.
“I’ll start,” he says quickly. It startles me for a second. It's the behavior of someone eager, not someone uninterested.
Oh, right, he's just eager to get this over with.
Don't get your hopes up. He's not going to ask whether you have a boyfriend. Or if he should kiss you.
“Why are you always lugging a suitcase around with you?”
My eyebrows scrunch in confusion until a laugh bursts out.
“What? Is that because I ran into you the other day?”
“No. It's not that. You often bring a suitcase to my class. It’s hardly necessary for a business major.”
His eyes linger on me, heavy, making it harder to breathe with his whole attention on me.
“Carly hasn’t told you?”
“We don’t really talk about you.” He winces. “Sorry, that came out wrong. We try not to talk about work most of the time. Carly is a big believer in work-life balance, although you wouldn’t believe it if you saw her kitchen.”
“Why?”
“She’s always experimenting with something baking-related. Always tells me she’s really craving that scone or muffin. But of course, once she perfects it, it somehow ends up at PerfectBrews. Like that pumpkin muffin she had during Fall? She’d been working on it since February.”
“Carly always makes it seem easy, like she puts out a special muffin on a whim.”
“Yeah, she’s like that. But you haven’t answered my question.”
