Page 17 of Teach Me
“Not at all. It’d be the death of my credibility if I was that easy to win over.”
Cameron’s lips twitched. “I dunno. I get the idea you’re not easily won over in general, despite how ‘cool’ you seem in class. You grade hard, everyone knows that.” He spoke around another bite of sandwich, which he then waved. “Glad my sandwich helps, though, I guess?”
“Ahhh, Grady! Just the man I’m looking for.” Arthur Lingen’s voice jarred me from the cozy bubble of conversation Cameron and I had created, leaving me mildly annoyed, though I wasn’t sure why. I liked Arthur well enough, and he was an excellent academic, someone whose career I’d looked up to when I first started my tenure track here. I pasted on a smile and scooted over a bit. “Care to join us? Cameron is one of my students. We were discussing sandwiches and decision fatigue.”
Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Why don’t we take it somewhere warmer and less—” He glanced around. “—winter-ridden. More academic. I want to pick your brain on something.”
“Fair enough.” I was reluctant to leave but had zero excuse to stay, so I stood, snagging the strap of my bag. “I’ve got a sudden craving for a turkey sandwich anyway.” I winked at Cameron.
Arthur eyed the bag I was carrying with condemnation. “Still carrying that ratty thing. Maybe once your book is published, you’ll finally indulge yourself in a proper Louis Vuitton.”
“I don’t know, I’m pretty attached to this one.”
Movement in my periphery had me glancing back at Cameron to find him frowning, a muscle at his jaw fluttering like he was about to say something. Instead, his eyes met mine, and the expression smoothed out. “Thanks for the chat, Professor. Very enlightening.”
I barely checked a double take as he parroted my previous words back at me. But despite his mild tone, I didn’t miss the twinkle in his eye as he said it.
“You can’t stay away, huh?”I glanced up, a grin forming on my lips at Cam’s teasing tone as he came to a stop in front of my table. I’d finished at the gym a bit early, and it was the one weekday when I didn’t have an 8:00 a.m. lecture. What I did have was a craving for the cafe’s strong coffee. “I’d like to think it’s my exemplary service.” He flourished his fingers and bowed dramatically. “But let’s be honest, it’s probably the omelets.”
“Maybe a bit of both.” I tossed my menu aside. “I guess I don’t have to bother to put in my order, huh? But can I get another water when you get a moment?” I indicated the empty water glass. I’d drained it the second I sat down.
“One sec.” He whipped around and returned quickly with a full water pitcher, refilling my glass before he scrutinized me more thoroughly. “Maybe I should just leave it on the table?”
I laughed. “Do I look that parched?”
“Just a tiny bit sweaty.” He pinched his thumb and forefinger together and then separated them slightly. “Must have been a good workout. Or else all the good campus parking is full for the day.”
I touched the back of my hand to my brow. Still sweaty. “Maybe a bit of both,” I volleyed back, and he laughed again, an easy, carefree sound that was infectious. I hoped his employers treated him well. He seemed like a phenomenal employee and was obviously a hard worker. “You’re here a lot.”
“Yep.” He reached out and brushed a crumb from the table. “Lost my scholarship, so I need the hours and dough. It’s a long story,” he said before I could ask, and the way he averted his gaze kept me from pressing the issue, though I was curious. He was attractive, bright, and seemed to have a good heart. What had happened? He straightened and put his notepad back in his pocket, smile returning. “I’m gonna go get your order started. Give me the eye if you need anything else. I’ll drop your coffee off in a sec.”
True to his word, Cameron returned moments later with a steaming mug of coffee and creamer. I settled back in the booth, sipping the brew and tackling emails that had accumulated in my inbox overnight. My gaze occasionally flitted Cameron’s way as he bustled to and from his other tables. Ten minutes later, he was sliding my usual omelet atop the table.
I murmured a thanks and offhandedly asked, “So what do you think of the class so far?” I checked a frown, wondering why I’d asked his opinion—something I’d never done before, never really had had any interest in doing before. For some reason, I was curious to hear his opinion.
“I really like it.” He raked his teeth over his lower lip, trapping a smile. “It might be my favorite class this semester. I’m not even blowing smoke or trying to get brownie points.”
“I’m not one to give brownie points for flattery.” Though the compliment had an effect on me, regardless. I narrowed my eyes at him skeptically. “Wait, how many classes are you taking this semester? Just so I can properly judge how complimented I should feel.”
“Full load. I’m behind and trying to catch up. Again, it’s a long story.”
“Sounds like a lot of work.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind hard work.”
“What about free time?” I gestured around to the tables of students chatting animatedly. “Student life? Partying? The typical college experience?”
“I’ve had enough free time and student life to last me for a while,” he said cryptically. “I like working towards a goal, anyway. One of those things I recently figured out about myself. I’m not a big partier, but I get enough solo time.”
“What’s your major, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He rested a hip against the booth bench across from me. “I started out as a business major because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, and that seemed like a good catchall, but I switched to psychology. It may sound cheesy, but I want to try to help people figure out who they are, what they want out of life.”
“Sort of like a life coach? Or more like therapy?” I perked a brow. I wouldn’t have necessarily pegged him for that, but I couldn’t see him as a business major either.
He ducked his head and ran a hand down his thigh, seeming a little sheepish. “Sort of like a life coach, yeah, but a little deeper. Not just, like, examining skill sets and helping people figure out what they should be doing in their career, but going farther back. Childhood, teens, figuring out what baggage they’re carrying, things that might be holding them hostage without them realizing it.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a bit of experience yourself with that.”