“Sure thing,” she says to him. “Alis, come back to my office when you’re done. I’ll put your paperwork with your bag.”
I nod, trying to act as normal as possible while internally I am FREAKING OUT. I’m about to be in an office, alone, with theoneman I’ve felt attracted to in nine years who is now completely off limits. This. Is. Awesome.I’m not sweating; you’re sweating. Is it too hot in here? Why doesn’t my top have buttons? I need to undo some buttons.
“Will do. Thanks, Dr. Matthews.”
She turns and walks toward the door, Dexter following close behind. He bids her farewell and gently closes the door, turning back to face me.
He scans me top to bottom and then looks at me expectantly.Yeah right, buddy. I’m not leading off in this conversation.
“So, this is ... unexpected,” he says. I nod. “You didn’t tell me your name was Aurora.”
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “Nobody calls me that, so I don’t normally introduce myself by that name.”
I’m trying not to sound like a smartass, but I don’t think it’s working. I turned him down; told him that now is not a good time for me. But seeing him again makes me want him so much more.No, Alis, you cannot have a cookie before dinner.Cookie being Dexter and dinner being school, responsibilities, my freaking JOB.
“Of course. That makes sense. You explained that already.” He lifts both hands to his hair, pushing it back and away from his face. That hair. Gahhhhh! I want to run my hands through it as I press my body against his and never let go. And those glasses — I can only imagine how sexy he looks in the morning, sitting at the kitchentable with a cup of coffee, hair falling loose around his face, glasses on while he reads the news. Of course he reads the news in the morning — he’s too scholarly and mature for a morning trope through Facebook or a quick round of Two Dots.This man is delicious.
“You wear glasses.” I say, pointing out the obvious.
“As do you.” He gives me that smirky half-smile. Dammit, I don’t want to be attracted to him now that he’s my boss.Well then stop picturing him shirtless while reading the news.Ha — easier said than done.
“I guess it’s a good thing I said ‘no’ to dinner, considering I work for you now.” He gives me a puzzled look, like he’s confused by the statement I just made.
“And why would that be a problem?”
He can’t seriously be that dense. Are the glasses a lie? Is he actually stupid?
“I can think of a handful of reasons why that would be a problem, most notably: I’m your employee, I’m a student at the university where you’re a professor, Dr. Matthews would crap a brick if she found out her teaching assistant was dating a professor…” I look up from my finger counting to his face. “Should I go on?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. We’ll agree to disagree on that. When we met, I didn’t realize you were young enough to be my student. How old are you, anyway?”
He now thinks I’m a child. Frustration builds, but I bite back the snark and answer simply: “Thirty.”
He nods. “That’s what I would have guessed when we met. You don’t look early twenties.” I don’t respond.
“So you’re thirty and just now going to grad school?”You condescending asshat.Maybe it won’t be so difficult not to be attracted to him.
He leans against his desk, hands in his trouser pockets. My eyes trail down his shoulders to his biceps and forearms, across to his abdomen and down, slowly, to his… Dammit. Stop it, Alis.
I snap my eyes back up to meet his. “Yes. Is there a problem with a woman my age going to grad school?” I cross my arms over my chest. Now I look like a defiant child. Great.
“No, it’s just not the norm. Most students in our grad programs are twenty-two, twenty-three, just out of undergrad. I’ve only been teaching here for three years now, and maybe other programs have students of all ages. I just haven’t had any. Maybe we have some in the online programs, but not on campus.” His face takes on a quizzical look, as if he’s only now considering people of all ages go to college. “So, Alis, why go back to get your master’s now?”
“I told you the other night — life happened and put my plans on hold. Now I’m in a better place and it’s the right time to finish my degree.”
“Finish? So you started once before?”
“Yes.” I say plainly. I’ve already had this conversation once today and I don’t have the energy to do it again.
“Care to expound on that?”
“Nope.” I look at him blankly, hoping my face effectively communicates:drop it.
“Alright, then. Let’s talk shop. Have a seat.” He gestures to a seat in front of his desk as he stands and circles back to his desk chair. I need the barrier between us, if only to keep my eyes on his face and not all over his body.Whyyyyyyy is this happening?
“You speak French?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow in question.
“Oui, je parle français.” (Yes, I speak French.)
