Oh, god.
Surely, he doesn’t know about my nickname for him.
But he confirms the awful truth when he chuckles, “Your classmates aren’t exactly discrete. I know what you all call me.”
“Oh.” I want to sink into the pavement, but I manage to keep my head high and apologize. “Sorry about that. You were really rude to me, but I shouldn’t have said it.”
He runs a hand through his wavy caramel hair, a beautiful example of masculine chagrin. “If I was hard on you, it’s only because I want you to succeed.”
After a second too long, I manage to pick my jaw up off the floor.
“Are you sure it isn’t about your ego?” I counter, emboldened by his familiar tone. It’s probably a bit reckless, but he feels more like a guy my age than my uptight professor right now. “I knowthis is your first year as a lecturer after your PhD. You don’t have to be confrontational with us to prove yourself.”
He releases a low hum. “Maybe a bit of both. I can have an ego and want to see my students succeed.”
What a self-deprecating response.
I take a moment to consider him. He’s only a couple years older than me; he’s young and probably feels pressure to earn our respect. It doesn’t excuse his behavior during the icebreaker, but he does seem contrite.
“Do you accept my apology?” he asks.
“Have you apologized?” I reply blandly.
It’s far too easy to talk to him this way. Something about him tempts me to stay engaged when I should walk away.
Or it’s just that he’s insanely hot, and even though I don’t date, I’m still human. Anyone would struggle to resist his allure.
He grins. “I’m so sorry for being a dick to you, Lena.”
I nod and attempt a breezy tone. “Apology accepted. And I really am sorry about the nickname.”
His laugh is rich and melodic. “I think it’s too late for that. I’mProfessor Arseholenow.”
At least he has a sense of humor about it.
“But I accept your apology too,” he adds. “I’ve been called far worse.”
Before I can come up with a reply, two wet paws hit my knees. I glance down and find that an adorable cocker spaniel puppy has decided I’m a new friend.
“Sorry about him,” the woman holding his leash says, but I’m not at all perturbed.
“Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” I exclaim, my heart melting. “Can I pet him?”
She beams at me. “Sure.”
I crouch down and extend a hand. The little dog’s short tail wags madly.
“What’s your name?” I coo as I scratch behind his ears.
“Carson,” his owner says.
“Hello, Carson!” My voice goes higher, like I’m talking to a baby. “Aren’t you a handsome boy with your black spots? Yes, you are!”
I glance up at Professor Hirst, who’s looking at me like I’m some sort of strange creature he’s never seen before.
“Don’t you like dogs?” I ask.
His crooked smile takes my breath away. “Not as much as you do, apparently.”
