It was just Ashton, after all.
two
TALLY
I had not intended to love him.
— CHARLOTTE BRONTË
When I got to Ashton’s office, the door was open. He sat at his desk grading papers, his long legs barely fitting underneath, mumbling to himself. Ashton always talked to himself when he was upset. His wavy, wheat-colored hair was mussed like he’d raked his fingers through it in the last few minutes. I strained to decipher what he was saying but the words were too quiet. He clamped his jaw and a muscle ticked in his cheek. The fact that I could see it was surprising since he had a thick beard going on.
“You must be gradingJane Eyrepapers.” I laughed, trying to ease the tension from earlier.Jane Eyrewas part of the freshman English curriculum and one of his least favorite books.
He flinched and his head snapped up like he’d forgotten I was coming. Our gazes locked. His eyes were even morebrilliant now that he was wearing a pair of stylish, black-rimmed readers. My pulse quickened as he scoured my face. What did he think he was going to find there?
His brow furrowed and he set the glasses on his desk. “No. That was last semester. This,” he held up a stack of papers, “isTo Kill A Mockingbird.”
I was tempted to ride him about the amount of trees cut down in order for his students to hand their papers in the old-fashioned way. But he said staring at the screen too long gave him a headache. He didn’t mind killing a few trees if it saved him some eye strain. Plus, he thought it was good for them to do things the hard way. It was his ranch upbringing. I couldn’t argue with that. The Duprees had raised some of the most upstanding people I knew.
“Good old, Atticus Finch.” I walked in and plopped down in the plastic chair he kept for students. Then I looked around his office, taking it all in. The man was a conundrum, for sure. Yeah, he had a bookshelf of classics, a reproduction copy of Shakespeare’sFirst Folio, and a Yorick skull fromHamlet. But he also had a Millennium Falcon built from Legos, a Dwight Schrute bobblehead, and a Star Trek doormat that said Beam Me Up.
I scanned the array of framed pictures of his family. I’d helped my bestie, Anna, set those up for him when he was very first hired, the summer before my freshman year. I smiled at one of him and Anna, hugging each other in mock horror on the Peter Pan ride at Disney World.
Then I leaned across Ash, popped the door open on the mini fridge, and grabbed a Dr Pepper.Ah, sweet caffeine. Oh, how I need thee.
Once I’d taken a swig, I pried off my shoes, propped my socked feet up on his lap, and closed my eyes. “Did you read the newSpy vs Sighchapter?” I knew he had. He was as into the series as I was. “Can you believe how close Jack came tokissing Raven in that safe house? The authors are trying to kill us with the suspense.” I grinned, eyes still closed. “Iloveit.”
“Yes, I read it and no, I don’t believe it.” There was a bite to his voice but there always was when we discussed Jack and Raven’s near kisses—as if he took a fictional couple’s lack of touching personally. “They need to get on with it. The series is already halfway through.If I’d written it,” he practically growled. “They would’ve ripped each other’s clothes off already.”
“Typical guy. Nah. Keep the reader dangling.”
“They’ve made unspoken promises to their fans and it’s past time to fulfill them. If they don’t get on with it, people will stop reading.”
“They’ll get to it when?—”
My sentence was interrupted when Ashton shoved my feet off his lap. I pried my exhausted eyes open and sat up with a huff. He peeled my fingers from the soda can and set it on the desk.
My mouth fell open.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes drilling into me, his expression painfully serious. “Tally? We need to talk.”
I shrugged. “Okay. Let’s talk.”
His lips twisted like he was frustrated and I looked at them too long. He had great lips like his brother Holden. Holden’s wife, Christy, always said they were girl's lips. But amidst the facial hair and masculine jaw, they totally worked.
Ash sighed. “I’ve thought a lot about this and I think ifyoureally think this through…you’ll agree that it’s probably better if I hand you off to Dr. Gibson to be your thesis advisor.” Wait. What was happening? I shook my head, trying to catch up. “She loves romance and?—”
“Hand me off?”
He stared at meblankly.
“I don’t like Dr. Gibson. She’s pompous.” I waved at him. “Even more pompous than you and your big, fancy words.”
“I’m not pompous. I’m doing my job.”
“By trying to make us all feel stupid?”
“I’m trying to educate you. Big, fancy words are my bread and butter.” I opened my mouth to tell him he could teach without being a show-off but he talked over me. “And it’s going to be yours, soon.”
