“Need to add on another? No problem. It’s fall break that week so I don’t have any other classes to attend.”
“Actually, quite the opposite. I met with Alis earlier today and she reminded me that she’s already teaching a handful of these topics in my Wednesday class. I’ve been so scatterbrained lately with the overlaps and extra workload with fewer staff, it completely slipped my mind that my TA is just that — my teaching assistant.” Dr. Matthews gives a self-deprecating laugh and shakes her head. “So, you’re off the hook. Well, except for two. At the moment I can’t remember which two, but I do remember that you only have to present two lectures and Alis will take the rest while I have overlap.”
That’s not what I wanted to hear. Less time with Alis? That’s the opposite of what I want.
“Are you sure?” I press. “It’s really no burden for me to cover the lectures we discussed. I’m sure Alis has a lot on her plate.” Do I sound desperate? Not yet? No, not yet.
Dr. Matthews waves me off. “Nonsense. As I said, she brought it up. I’m sure she wouldn’t have if she didn’t want more teaching opportunities. When we talked at the beginning of the semester she marked off the dates for this class so she could dedicate her entire workweek to it. And you could use the time for planning, especially with Jonathan Ryan looking to teach a J-term intensive next year.”
My eyes go wide. This is news to me. “What?! Since when?” Dr. Matthews smirks; she knew I wouldn’t know and she no doubt anticipated my reaction.
“Keep it hush, but I caught wind of a lecture series he’s presenting during his upcoming year-long sabbatical and figured I’d capitalize on the opportunity to boost the program with a class taught by him as a guest lecturer.”
I can barely contain my excitement. “So it’s for sure happening?” I ask, chomping at the bit for an opportunity to finagle my way into co-teaching with him.
“Nothing is set in stone, but I’ve opened dialogue with him about it.” Her eagerness to solidify her plan is evident. “He’ll be teaching in the US and Canada during the spring semester, then heading to Europe for the fall. The plan is to have him teach the entire lecture series as a two-week intensive as a sort of scrimmage presentation before he leaves Colorado for the start of the official series.”
“That’s genius. Think he’ll go for it?”
“I hope so.” She shrugs, “We’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, I want you to get your hands on his series outline and start building a syllabus for the class. If we have everything pre-organized, he’s more likely to sign on.”
I smile like a kid on Christmas morning. Me. Dexter Belanger. Build a class from Dr. Ryan’s lecture series for him to teach at Middle Peak. I’m not thinking clearly when I nod my head enthusiastically and reply, “Yes. Yes of course I can do that. Anything I can do to help just let me know.”
“I want the syllabus completed in three weeks.” She cocks an eyebrow in question — or is that challenge? Does she think building a syllabus in three weeks when the content is providedforme will be an issue?
“Not a problem,” I nod.
“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
I start to walk back toward my car when Dr. Matthews calls after me, saying, “And Dexter …” I stop and look her way, letting her know I’m listening. “Keep this between us for now. I’d hate to get anyone’s hopes up and have it fall through.”
“Sure thing, boss,” I say, saluting her with two fingers before unlocking my car with my fob.
Dr. Ryan teaching at Middle Peak. This is going to be incredible. And I get to build the syllabus for the class.
Me. Dexter Bellanger. Thirty-six-year-old, bottom-of-the-totem-pole French lit professor building a syllabus for the most celebrated scholar in our field.This is amazing.
Just as I close my driver-side door and slide my keys into the ignition I’m hit with a sudden rush of imposter syndrome.
Me. Dexter Bellanger. Thirty-six-year-old, bottom-of-the-totem-pole French lit professor building a syllabus for the most celebrated scholar in our field.What the hell is Abigail Matthews thinking trusting me with this?!
TWENTY-ONE
Alis
He should wearvests more often.I’m sitting in the back row in the far right corner, supposedly grading quizzes while Dr. Belanger finishes up his lecture about research essays. I saysupposedlybecause every few minutes I find myself staring at him as discreetly as possible, and before I know it I’ve wasted another ten minutes in a lustful trance. I can’t help it — the man is next-level beautiful in a gray suit vest over a button-down with rolled-up sleeves and the top two buttons open. Seriously, delicious.
I’m still adjusting to this new facet of my personality — the formerly dormant wannabe sex kitten now fighting her way to the surface. I’ve stopped shoving her back into my mental vault. Turns out her claws are long enough to pick locks and free herself. Since she’s not going anywhere, I may as well get to know her and grow comfortable in her presence. Hopefully embracing her will help me to gain controlofher rather than being controlledbyher.
I should be able to tell whether or not Jennifer Fitzgibbons completed last night’s reading based on her multiple choice answers, but instead, I can give a detailed account of the way Dexter Belanger’s arm muscles tug on the fabric of his dark blue shirt as heuses gestures to emphasize the importance of analysis and argument in writing.
Who knew talk of thorough and unbiased research could be so hot? Don’t you worry, Dr. Belanger. I’d research every square inch of your body as thoroughly as possible. You won’t find gaps or room for further argument when I’m done with you.
I’m chewing on my pen, eyes glued to him, when he looks my way and locks eyes with me.Shoot me. I’ve been caught, again.The last three times he caught me watching he didn’t acknowledge my stares, instead reverting his gaze back to the class and continuing with his lecture. This time, however, he keeps his eyes on me and smirks before returning his attention to the students.
If only he had winked, last week’s fantasy would have become reality. You’d think the consequences of said fantasy would deter me from allowing my thoughts to drift in that direction, but no. The longer I stay in this classroom watching him teach, the more I succumb to my attraction to him.
It’s not like I’m the only female in this classroom checking him out. I bet the majority of the women in this class have no idea what he’s even talking about because their eyes are glazed over with lust and their thoughts are a million miles away from the topic at hand.
