I have a feeling going to bed with him would be an out-of-this-world experience. I only wish I could find out if my imagination lives up to reality. I want that so badly I am willing to overlook the fact that I had a baby and my body isn’t the thin, lithe one I had when I was in college the first time.
As I realize my mind has drifted back to Shane the man once more, I acknowledge I really am not doing a good job of putting him in the professor box. But if I am going to accomplish my mission, earn my degree, make my son proud, and provide him with the best life I possibly can, I have no choice but to focus on my studies. I need to at least pass my Intro to Economics class, and I am struggling. Badly.
But I have an exam tomorrow I need to pass, so after FaceTiming with L.J., who is having a blast in the Big Apple, catching up with Carrie and Samuel, and then having my weekly check-in with each of the guys in New York, I make myself a cup of coffee and settle in to study.
***
Shane
I sit inmy family room, grading the most recent test I gave to the class, and groan when I come to Amber’s exam. No matter how I look at it, she is one point short of passing. Although for most students, I’d chalk it up to a bad exam result, upload the grade, and move on, I pore over her test, trying to figure out what the issue is so I can help her, because she really is trying hard to succeed.
She is doing the work, reading the assignments, participating in class, and asking all the right questions when she has a problem. Clearly, she is eager to learn and is doing everything she can… on her own. Either her study techniques are an issueor the subject matter just doesn’t make sense in her brain. Not everyone excels in every course, but if she really needs this as a prerequisite, she has to pass the class.
I notice, too, that she’s joined a study group, which is a positive step, except that group includes a student, Dan Markham, I had before in a math class. Dan doesn’t struggle in the class the way Amber does, but he is averaging a B-and he isn’t happy. In my past with Dan, the boy has issues with any grade less than an A and has a tendency to blame the teacher and not accept responsibility himself. Not that Amber would know that. It isn’t my place to say anything to her, either. I hoped that Dan and the others would be able to help Amber, that they could all help each other, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.
I’ll have to talk to her about her grade after class today. Without a significant change, she is at risk of failing the entire course, and there is no way she can pass the final. With the right help, however, there is still hope. Although I tell myself I’d go to this extreme for any of my students, in my heart, I know I am digging deeper because this is Amber… and I feel a connection to her even if I have kept my distance.
I stand at the front of the room, trying to concentrate on the subject matter, which I know inside and out, or on the other kids in the room, but my gaze always comes to rest on Amber. Yes, she is older than the others, but she is persistent, and I admire her diligence. She sits and types in her notes, occasionally resorting to a notepad and pen, always paying attention.
I know when she is frustrated by the cute crinkle of her nose and realize when she catches on to a concept by the bright light in those striking blue eyes. While taking exams, she twirls her hair around her finger, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth while trying to figure out the answer. And when she is antsy, she crosses and uncrosses her legs, nice long legs I admire, even when covered by jeans or leggings.
I have it bad for her, and it isn’t easy to focus on what matters most. All my students. My job. Tenure.
Fuck.
I don’t sleep well that night and arrive at class just in time to start the lecture. I wait until the last five minutes to hand back the exams, not meeting Amber’s gaze as I slide the paper onto her desk.
After striding back to the front of the room, I turn to look across it. “You can reach me in my office if you have any questions,” I say, then remind them of my office hours. “That’s it for today.” I pause, then say, “Miss Davis, would you stay after for a moment?”
Everyone scrambles to grab their things and leave the room. Only then do I allow myself to look at Amber and catch the sheen of frustrated tears in her eyes thanks to that test result.
***
Amber
Great. So notonly do I have another failing grade but now I have to face Shane in my humiliation, I think. I swallow past the lump in my throat, wondering not for the first time since starting this class if I made a mistake in coming back to school. Maybe I am too old. Maybe the subject matter is just too much for me. If I can’t handle it now, when I have no other responsibilities at home, what am I going to do when L.J. comes home and demands most of my time?
I have no one to talk to, either. The Bennetts, my mom, the guys are all cheering me on and believe in me. Even L.J. told me this morning how proud he is of me. I smile at the thought of my little man. I miss him so much, but he is having the summerof his life, and I know I made the right decision starting school alone and letting him spend time with his family.
I told Layla I was struggling in economics, but my friend’s joking answer was to ask my hot professor forextra help, and that just isn’t happening. Shane made it clear he is off-limits to me. But now he wants to talk, probably to suggest I drop the course, even now, so late in the semester. The room has emptied out, and I hear the sound of footsteps coming up the aisle.
Looking up, I glance into his concerned gaze. I still have a hard time thinking of him asProfessor Warden.
He strides over to me and settles into the closest chair, shocking me when he places his hand over mine.
“Hey.”
Sparks fly at the simple touch, my entire body alighting with sudden life and need. I don’t have to wonder if he feels the energy between us, too. He rips his hand away from me so fast my head spins, and he is right to do so. I can’t allow myself to focus on sexual tension when I have this failing grade glaring at me from my desk. But the scent of his cologne surrounds me, mocking my attempt to keep things purely innocent and professional.
“Amber?” he asks, his voice gruff with what I think is the same desire pulsing inside of me. “What can I do to help?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m doing everything I can, but nothing is enough.”
“How are your other classes going?”
I blink back my earlier tears. “Fine. Good, actually.” The realization helps center me. “It’s just this one that’s giving me fits.”
Understanding lights his expression. “So it’s not school that’s hard for you, it’s economics.”
