Page 9 of Teach Me

“Okay, darling. Good hearing your voice.” I sensed she wanted to say more, but she must have decided against it because after a beat, she told me to take care, stay out of trouble, as usual, and said goodbye.

I ended the call, bummed that I’d long since started viewing these conversations from home as something to be checked off my never-ending chore list. My parents weren’t bad people; they were just struggling the same way I once was, and I didn’t know how to help them.

Tucking my phone in my back pocket, I picked up the pace and cut behind the library, taking a path that would lead me to the edge of campus. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a figure heading my way and realized with a bolt of recognition that it was Professor Lusk. I raised my hand to wave before putting it back down. Classes hadn’t even started yet, and I’d only served him a few times at the cafe. It was probably dumb to assume he’d recognize me. But as we drew closer, he glanced up from the phone in his hand and locked eyes with me. Ahint of warmth crinkled at the corners of his honey-brown eyes, and I couldn’t help but notice how his muscles flexed under his button-up as he shifted the messenger bag he carried to the other side.

He tipped his chin indicatively toward the sky as a smile carved dimples on one side of his face. “How goes, Cameron? Taking advantage of the nice weather before the blast comes, I hope?”

Fuck, he did remember my name. Why the hell did that please me so much? Also, why did he have to be so unholy hot? He definitely lived up to his reputation of being one of the hottest professors on campus, looking more like a model than a man who spent his days trying to teach college kids about analysis paralysis.

“Um,” I fumbled, then gathered myself. “Something like that. You?” Bury me now. He was clearly not at all taking advantage of the weather. He looked like he was on his way to a meeting or something.

“Faculty meeting,” he confirmed with a playful grimace, then waggled his brows. “Maybe I can convince them to hold it outside.” He glanced down at his watch. “And on that note, I’m almost late.”

“Oh! Of course. See you around, and good luck.” And I wondered why the fuck I struggled with dating. Jesus Christ.

“I check attendance at three minutes after the hour. Even a nanosecond of tardiness is unadvisable,” he called out over his shoulder.

I had no idea if he was joking or not, but I did take that opportunity to glance behind me at the pants stretched tight over his perfect ass. Damn. Why was it that the only men who piqued my interest were out of reach?

5

GRADY

Ispotted Cameron immediately as I entered the lecture hall on the first day of class after winter break. He sat on the third row back with a bigger, stockier blond guy, their heads bent looking at something on their phones and laughing. Outside of the diner, he appeared even more ease. Content and in his element. Remembering the considerably more carefree days when I was in college sent a wave of nostalgia washing over me as I set my shoulder bag on the desk and pulled out my laptop.

Even after years of teaching, the start of a new semester gave me a shot of optimism that lasted at least as long as it took the first few students to shuffle in with zombie levels of enthusiasm after the holidays. I smiled as they came in, prepared to spend the next hour attempting to resuscitate their interest in academics and reviving them from the food and alcohol coma in which many of them had spent the last month.

Psychology of Decision Making was arguably my most popular class and incidentally the one I enjoyed teaching the most, even if it didn’t attract the more academically-minded sociology and psychology majors. Because it was such a popular course, most of the students who got in were happy to be there,and I worked hard to make it a respectable mix of informative, engaging, and tough.

It also helped that it wasn’t an 8:00 a.m. class.

After some haggling with the department, I’d managed to score one of the social sciences building’s lecture halls so I could open the class to more people, and while it wasn’t quite as large as the hundred-plus freshman course I taught, I’d increased the size from thirty students to seventy-five with the last-minute acquisition of a TA, Paul, who assisted me with grading, compiling quizzes and tests, and such.

When I glanced up after pulling out my laptop, Cameron caught my eye and gave me something akin to a smile crossed with a smirk. The expression struck me as just shy of brazen—perhaps meant to highlight he’d not been late. I gave him a subtle tick of my chin in return and then scanned the lecture hall as students continued to file inside. From the looks of it, most had gotten the memo about showing up to class on the first day or losing their spot, and after I’d called the room to order, I went down the attendance sheet and compared it to the online check-in portal on my laptop. Only two no-shows. Not bad at all.

I set the list aside and parked my ass on the edge of the desk, facing the students. Cameron’s friend kept sneaking glances down at his phone, and he wasn’t alone in that. Doodling on notebooks had been replaced by flicking a finger at a screen, but Cameron’s eyes were on me, his gaze attentive, his posture loose. He wore jeans and—I darted a look down— a beat-up pair of Vans, along with a long-sleeved tee that had probably never seen an iron. Imagining him pulling it out from a drawer full of other balled-up T-shirts made me smile for some reason.

I was starting to see John’s point of view. Cameron was startlingly attractive, as was his friend. Then again, I hadn’t been paying much attention to guys back in my college days. Maybe I’d had far more options back then than I’d realized.

I dragged my gaze away and moved on, going over the course syllabus, test schedule, and general expectations—all the things that typically made the students’ eyes glaze over.

Time to snap them back to attention.

I picked up my attendance sheet and chose a name at random. “Glenn Smith?”

“Sir?” A stoner-looking kid with shaggy brown hair raised his hand.

“Are you familiar with the showBreaking Bad?”

Glenn’s eyes became slightly more focused as he grinned. “Fuck yeah, amazing show.” And then, catching himself, he tacked on an apology for the profanity.

“Alright, so how about a little true/false question? Walter White demonstrates an example of sunk-cost fallacy with his illegal enterprise. True or false?”

Glenn squinted thoughtfully before replying, “Uhhhh, false?”

“Well, let’s think about the show. As it progresses, so, too, does Walter’s criminal activity, even as the risks and consequences escalate, because he’s already invested so much time, money, and effort into it. So I’d argue that it’s true. But we’ll cover sunk-cost fallacy more in depth later. Good reply.”

“Thank you, sir.” Glenn offered me a pleased grin in return.