Page 29 of Give In

And maybe he’s an asshole because he wants me to have an ‘Oh Captain, my Captain’ moment.

Or, and I’m just spitballing here, maybe he’s an egotistical asshole who finds torturing me hilarious.

Grumbling to myself, I shoved my stuff in my bag.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Brooks greeted, wrapping his arm around my tense shoulders. “My next class got cancelled. Where ya heading?”

“Comparative Politics with Ceaders.”

He grimaced. “That dude creeps me out.”

I shrugged. “I’ve never noticed anything with him.”

Maybe my warning bells are too busy sounding off about Professor Caine.

“Wanna play hooky with me?” He grinned. “I’ll buy you the biggest coffee we can find.”

My mouth literally watered at the idea, though my already heated blood and riled thoughts didn’t need the caffeine boost. “I wish. I have stuff to hand in, and he’s a big fan of the pop quiz.”

“Good decision, Miss Wilder,” I heard from behind us. Turning, I saw Professor Caine standing in the row below us, picking up stray papers. “I’d have hated to speak to Professor Ceadersprivately.”

I saw the way his lips curved up in a small smirk, his brow arching infinitesimally.

I heard the emphasis.

His phrasing hadn’t been a coincidence.

It’d been a dig.

God, he’s a dick.

Since walking away without acknowledging him would draw attention, I kept my expression and voice as neutral as possible. “No need for that, Professor Caine.” Then, because I couldn’t help giving him just a tiny taste of his own medicine, I turned and ignored him. I smiled up at Brooks and asked, “What’re you doing with your copious amounts of free time? Building a house? Writing a novel? ReadingWar and Peace?”

He laughed. “I was planning on walking you to class then grabbing lunch.”

“That works, too.” When his smile grew, I couldn’t help but grin up at him. He was cute and incredibly sweet.

Brooks grabbed our bags and slung them both over his shoulder before curling his arm around me. “See you Wednesday, Caine.”

We were almost to the door before he responded. “Yes, see you Wednesday, Mr. Crosby.” His voice dropped slightly before he continued. “Miss Wilder.”

I didn’t need to look back to see his smirk. His arched brow.

He’d be seeing me Wednesday. And not just in class.

I hate him.

*******

Sure enough, Wednesday night came and there he was. Sitting in one of the chairs that lined the stage, he was leaning back, his bored eyes on me.

There may have been some close calls before, but I’d always been able to keep it together. Through my panic. My confusion. My mortifying embarrassment.

But right then, I was struggling not to fall apart. Being distracted was dangerous. One wrong step in my teetering heels, and I could fall and do serious damage. Hopping on a pole was no easy feat, and a mistake could leave me with a broken neck.

After I finished my set, I used the allotted ten minutes to regroup. I tried to calm down and remind myself I was at work. Instead of helping, I got angrier.

He’d watched me take my clothes off. He’d paid me more than I’d deserved for the half-ass dances I’d given him. And he’d kept coming back. I’d have to be stupid not to read into that.