Page 9

Pulling out my notebook, I ignore everyone around me with their laptops. I hooked up to the city wifi last night to get my homework and did it until the damn thing died.

It’s another reason I’ll need to go to the student union: to charge my laptop and phone. My lips purse as I ask myself how hard it would be to get a second job bartending or serving. I can’t let my grades slide or I won’t have a reason to even be here.

“Good morning, class!” the teacher booms from the front of the room.I know that voice.

My fingers clench around my pen as I look up at the teacher. Dark brown eyes flick over me for a second without recognition before moving on. Relaxing, I don't know whether I should be relieved or not that my step-father doesn’t recognize me.

“Dr. Adams, as you all know, is taking a leave of absence, so I will be taking over this class. The History department decided to each take a class, and you all have pulled the short straw,” he continues, making my lips twitch. I wouldn’t have pegged him as being a hardass as a professor, since he was always so kind to me.

It just shows how little I knew about my step-father.

“I grade based on a mixture of lecture and the texts, so be prepared to know all of it for the final. There will also be an added research paper due in a month, so add that to your syllabus,” he says.

Writing his name on the white board behind him, I huff slightly at the continued evidence that I’m stuck with my step-father teaching me history.

Dr. Cooper Thornefieldis written in bold letters in erasable marker on the board. Just fucking great. As long as I’m able to stay out of his way and he doesn’t recognize me, I won’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions.

“I usually do this at the beginning of the semester, but we’re all going to have to be flexible because of the changes we’re facing,” Cooper says as his eyes take us in.

He’s wearing a black sweater with a pair of jeans, and I can see his coat is hanging neatly on the chair behind his desk. He prowls the front of the classroom as if there’s all of this uncontained energy inside of him.

“I need you all to make at least one appearance at my office hours over the next fourteen days, starting next week. I like to have a chance to put a name to a face, and it helps us work together through any challenges you may be facing in this class.”

It sounds like something that he would do. Unfortunately, this throws a wrench in my plans to lay low and fly under the radar. On the other hand, he has the full roster and knows my name. It won’t take long for him to hunt me down if he wants to.

Shit. I force myself to pay attention even as panic claws at me. Anonymity is something I’ve been holding onto hard, despite the regular check-ins with my academic counselor. Martha Carmichael tends not to scratch too far beneath the surface and it’s served me well.

“Alright, to schedule an appointment this week, please email my assistant, Brooke, and she’ll get you a slot in my office hours. I’ll extend them so they work for everyone,” Cooper finishes.

The rest of the class is a cacophony of words that I can’t seem to process as I take notes.

I know I won’t be able to remember anything that’s said, so I simply write everything possible down.

In a haze, I pack up my things, asking myself how I managed to piss off the Gods of Fate so badly. Things were going to damn well.

Well, other than the snow. As I step outside of the building, I sigh as I see more of the white stuff coming down. Tears of frustration slide down my face, seeming to freeze immediately and pissing me off more. Pulling my hood over my hair, I head to the student union to treat myself to some coffee, a pastry, and to make some sense of my notes, while my computer charges before I head in to work. Something has to give, because today is not going well.

Three

Cooper

Iglance at my sheet without seeing it fully on Tuesday morning, making a face at the lunacy of meeting all one-hundred students in my class in such a small span of time.

It honestly helps me get to know them, figure out who is going to become a problem in my class, and who will probably fail it completely.

This is going to take up entirely too much time, and it’s making me grouchy.

“Do you need me to make sure you don’t eat your next student?” Brooke teases me gently. She looks a little worried about the fate of whoever is about to come in, and it makes me realize I need to shift my mood. I do these check-ins to gain rapport with my students, not make them run away screaming.

These are also mostly freshmen since it’s American History I, so I don’t want to terrify them completely. Taking a breath, I struggle to soften my face.

“No, I should be fine,” I tell her gently. “I may need you after my last student today.”

It’s a warning that my amenable appearance maybe tattered and strained by the time I see my last student. It’s my first day doing this, and I’m already worried about my patience.

“Of course, Sir,” Brooke says easily with a nod, opening the door to accept the first student before she leaves to do whatever it is she does during the day.

I’m not particularly close with her outside of how tight her pussy is and how long I can deny her an orgasm.