Page 17 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)

“Your assumption is correct. If only you had been proactive and handled that before class began rather than wasting precious time.”

He turns on his heel and strides toward the table at the front of the room. There, he flips open the flap of his satchel and pulls out a thick stack of papers. “Thankfully,” he says, turning to me, “I’m never not prepared.”

This fucker.

He absolutely did that to get a rise out of me, and it absolutely worked.

I inhale sharply through my nose to quell the anger simmering inside me.

He’s goading me. Maybe because I’m not studying his beloved marketing?

If my major is the issue here, then why did he choose me for the assistantship?

He’s a snob and a jerk, but I won’t let him see just how deep he’s gotten under my skin.

He steps my way, and I mirror the move. When we meet in the middle, I grasp the stack of papers. Rather than release them, he keeps a grip on the pile, forcing me to pause.

With a pointed look, he whispers, “Pass these out quickly, then take your seat, Ms. Davvies. I’ll see you in my office immediately after class.”

My stomach sinks. Shit.

I have a meeting with my academic advisor at eleven thirty in the library.

If I have to stop by Professor Eden’s office first, there’s no way I’ll make it across campus on time.

Especially because I don’t even know where his office is located.

I’ll have to follow him after class just so I don’t embarrass myself. Again .

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I am woefully unprepared and out of my depth here.

With a nod, I take the syllabi and stride toward the students, determined to get something right.

As I reach Tytus’s desk, he stands. “Give me half of those.”

The tension in my shoulders eases as I split the stack.

As I’m handing Ty his half, Professor Eden speaks again.

“Excuse me. Mr.…?”

Tytus lifts his chin. “Tremblay.”

Eager to get my half of the stack distributed, I don’t bother turning toward the professor .

Tytus clears his throat and stands to full height. “Tytus Tremblay, sir.” He pins his half of the papers between his bicep and his body, assuming a casual stance, his eyes flitting to mine, urging me on.

Unease curls in my stomach. I don’t want to just leave him here. Not when he’s caught Professor Eden’s attention because of me.

I remain where I am, paralyzed by anticipation and a hint of fear.

“Mr. Tremblay. Very well. I’m going to insist you hand back those papers and take your seat. Though Ms. Davvies doesn’t appear prepared or capable of assisting me in this class, the department has only budgeted for one graduate assistant at this time.”

This. Man.

The warmth of embarrassment already heating my skin blazes hotter.

Snickers resound around the room. It’s not surprising, really. Why should the students respect me, when the professor clearly doesn’t?

“With all due respect, sir …”

I tense, Tytus’s tone causing alarm bells to ring in my ears, and give him a pleading look, desperate to call him off.

But Ty’s not looking at me. He’s glaring at Professor Eden, a.k.a. my new boss. “Had you not been on sabbatical and completely unavailable to Ms. Davvies until five minutes ago—”

“Ty, no ,” I hiss.

His instinct to defend me may be admirable, but I have to earn this man’s respect on my own. And I’m suddenly realizing that I probably shouldn’t have shared so many details about our professor with my friend.

Now it will be abhorrently obvious to Professor Eden that we’re close, which is a conflict of interest if I have access to his grades or have any involvement in evaluating his work.

“Mr. Tremblay.”

The commanding boom of the professor’s tone makes my spine stiffen. My heart takes off at a gallop, as if it could pound right out of my chest.

He just yelled at Ty in front of the entire class. Because of me.

“While I did not intend to be questioned about the nature of my sabbatical this morning,” Professor Eden grits out, “I can assure you, my leave as well as my return to campus were carefully planned and dutifully executed.”

Eyes wide, I stare at Tytus, silently begging him to look at me. But he’s still glaring at the professor .

Desperate to step in and deescalate the situation, I turn around.

Professor Eden doesn’t so much as glance my way.

In an eerily calm tone, with his entire focus still set on Tytus, he continues.

“Should you one day find yourself in my situation, in need of a sabbatical, you’d have to be fortunate enough to be a tenured professor at an accredited university.

And despite your clear sense of initiative and entitlement, it’s not an easily obtained privilege.

” Professor Eden’s expression is one of boredom as he lectures Ty.

“You would have to defend a dissertation, obtain your PhD, and then put in the requisite number of years for tenure. You’d need to earn a master’s degree first, of course, and to do that, you’d need a bachelor’s degree, which is the reason you’re sitting in my classroom today, is it not? ”

Tytus’s jaw ticks as Professor Eden continues his diatribe.

“If that’s the case, it would behoove you to take your seat and allow me to get on with today’s lesson.”

Ty finally looks at me, his dark irises swirling with unbridled rage.

“Ty. Please,” I mouth, my heart in my throat.

Tytus remains standing—because of course he does.

Good grief . This boy.

He has no problem with authority, be it his coaches or other adults he respects. But when he’s backed into a corner…

“He’s not going to treat you like shit and get away with it,” he whispers in response.

Professor Eden rubs his temple, as if he’s developing a headache. “Sit or leave, Mr. Tremblay. Those are the two paths available to you. What you will not do is continue to disrupt my class or assist Ms. Davvies in the task I have assigned her.”

With a violent exhale, Tytus hands the papers back to me. Then he bends low to collect his bag.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I’m out.” He straightens and grimaces, his eyes now full of apology. “I’ll wait for you in the courtyard,” he murmurs as he shuffles down the row. Then he’s gone, striding out of the lecture hall with his head bowed and his shoulders slouched low.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying as he disappears. Then, with a steadying breath, I move along the first row, setting a syllabus in front of each wide-eyed, silent student.