“It’s good you’re making new friends,” he said with a smile that managed to look both kind and condescending. “I like that for you.”
“Um... friends?” This whole atmosphere had a strange vibe, one I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with.
Professor Yates picked up a shard of glass, studying it and then me. “Your new footballfriends.”
How did he know about that? “Yeah, it’s good.” I didn’t like the way he was studying me.
“You know, you can always come to me,” he said, his hands came out of his pockets, and he clasped them behind his back like he was giving a lecture. “It’s important for girls like you to have... balance. Academics. Social life. Guidance.”
Girls like me?My skin prickled. “I’m doing fine.”
“Of course you are.” He took another step toward me. “You’re a very capable young woman. Very polished. Very... composed.”
He let the silence drag. It felt thick, sticky. Wrong.
“I’ve always admired your work ethic,” he continued, voice dropping into something softer — too soft for a professor to talk to his student. “The way you carry yourself. You’re not like the other students.” His eyes drifted, lingering just a beat too long on my shoulder, my neck, dipping lower to my chest. “You have... presence.”
My stomach turned.
I reached behind me, my hand settling on my small mallet. I turned slightly, keeping him in my line of sight, but moved around my workbench, giving the illusion I was adjusting my work. But really, I was putting something — anything — between us. “Thank you, I guess.” His brow furrowed, and I picked up my phone, glancing at it. “I didn’t realize that was the time, I need to get going.”
He stepped around the workbench and came closer. Not touching. Justcloseenough that I felt the heat of him, smelled the coffee on his breath.
“Savannah,” he murmured, “you don’t have to pretend. I know you’re very confused right now. It can be overwhelming to be the center of attention. It won’t last, though. You know that. You know you can come to me if you ever need...support. Your father trusts me to look after you.”
I almost forgot he was too close to me. “My fathertrustsyou?” I asked him, my voice sharp. “What doesthatmean?”
Professor Yates sighed as he looked away. “Do you really think the dean of the university doesn’t know about the university’sestate?”
I stiffened. “Estate? I don’t understand.”
“A man like your father, who analyzeseverypenny of the school’s finances, who chases every cent, do youreallythink he doesn’t know which buildings on this campus are redundant and costing the school money in upkeep and utilities?”
I took a step back. “He knows I use the shed?”
Professor Yates gave me that same patronizing smile. “It’s okay, I tell him what he wants to hear. I look after you, Savannah.”
My temper flared, hot and furious, but I didn’t want to give him any ammunition, so I forced myself to keep my voice steady. “I don’t need looking after.”
His smile sharpened. “Everyone does at your age.” His eyes ran over me in a way that was sonotappropriate for a member of the academic staff to look at a student. “Let me help you. Like I’ve been helping you.”
Not happening.I gripped the mallet harder, knuckles turning white. “I think you should leave now.”
He blinked, innocent surprise plastered on like a mask. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“But you did.” My voice didn’t shake, thank God. “And you’ve been lying to me,” I added with more bitterness than I wanted. “He knows about it all, doesn’t he? Because you’ve been telling him.”
Professor Yates sucked his teeth. “I got you this,” he told me coolly, gesturing to the shed around us. “I found the space, I got it emptied, I got you the key. I did it all foryou.”
“With my father’s permission, though,” I spat. “Right?”
“He is thedeanof the university,” he replied, his words sharper than they had been. “I report to my boss when my boss asks me. Heismy boss. Did you forget that?” His hand raked through his hair. “For fuck’s sake, Savannah, don’t be so naïve. You just told me you didn’t need looking after. Yet you’re reacting like a child!”
My mouth dropped. This was mymentor. Someone I looked up to. Someone I trusted. Had it all been a lie? “I need to go.”
He made a sound of disgust. “To the quarterback?”
“Yes. To myboyfriend.”
