19
SUTTON
FROM:[email protected]
SUBJECT:Class location
To whom it may concern,
I’ve seen other professors take classes outside, to the Primordial Forest’s edge or that decrepit-looking amphitheater past the Lyceum. Why don’t we ever go anywhere except our stuffy auditorium?
A curious mind,
Elle Anderson
My thumb twitches as I sit in the empty auditorium she’s referencing, most of the Visio Aternae students having filtered out already after our discussion of the semester’s big fundraiser concluded.
I quickly swipe out of the email thread without replying, aware that she’s only sending a message because I canceled our first class of the week, and she likely thinks it had something to do with her.
In truth, it was a migraine from hell, causing me to consider just bashing my own skull in to rid myself of the nauseatingpain. But then I thought of Beckett finding my corpse and the trauma that would cause and decided to hole up in my darkened bedroom until the medicine kicked in.
Still, it’s not like I owe my students an explanation. I rarely ask them to elaborate when they miss my classes, so long as they inform me as soon as possible.
I tap my index finger against my knee, wondering what Elle did instead. Did she sleep in or get breakfast with her roommate? Perhaps she met up with Lexington and the other friends she’s made, going over the weekend’s homework assignment or speculating about the upcoming auditions for the class’s final play.
We’re over a month into the semester now, which means we’ve fallen into the groove of things, and Death’s Teeth has been eerily quiet, relegating themselves to their Apollodorus and cave parties only. The hyperfocus on sex is alarming, considering the volume of violence that occurred on campus last semester, and the increased number of gatherings sets me on edge as well.
It’s as if they’re growing desperate, trying to get my attention by acting out. Like they mean to force my hand, the way Jean-Louis said they would.
And no one’s asked about the new student.
Exhaling, I work my jaw as thoughts of Elle creep back in, pushing the potential danger aside. The idea of her hanging around Lexington fills me with an uncontainable malice, and I briefly wonder if there’s a way I could permanently break them apart. Maybe I should tell his mother I’m concerned about his grades and have her set him straight.
But that would be interfering, and Elle would see right through it. Not to mention it would likely tip off Lexington, who’s one of the top students in the theater program. It wouldn’t be fair of me to take my frustrations out on him.
It’s not exactly fair of me to take them out on Elle either, yet I can’t seem to help it. Every time she comes on to me, I’m struck by a million different fears: of losing my job, of involving her in the dangerous underbelly of this school, and of the way her mere stare provokes something deep within me.
I don’t know what it is, but my skin almost seems to buzz to life each time it grazes hers, and the desire is entirely unnerving.
I’m not used to wanting. Especially things I cannot have.
And even if what she said that day in the forest was true, even if I could have her, what in the world would I do with her?
A woman like that deserves more than the emotionally distant shell of a man. She deserves to be spoiled, loved, and taken care of.
Though the idea of someone else?—
“Um, Professor Dupont?”
Shaking myself from the shameful thoughts, I glance up as Sabrina clears her throat in the row ahead of me. She clutches a clipboard to her chest, then tucks a strand of blond hair behind a pale-pink ear.
“Yes, Sabrina?” I answer, hurriedly locking my phone in case another email comes through. She’s the kind of person to report that to the dean instantly, no matter how much she might wish for my approval.
“Were you waiting on someone? I can leave you alone if so.”
Running my knuckles over my lips, I stare at the stage; a few students linger, mingling among themselves, one of them the ghostly looking kid from our class. Percy, I think.
