Page 54 of The Naughty Professor

But tonight, their laughter felt like background noise to the storm in my chest.I sat quietly, watching Grandma rake in the pot with a satisfied smirk.She didn’t gloat—she simply collected her winnings, like a queen accepting tribute.

Lisa leaned back in her chair.“Felix, sweetheart, do you want a beer?There are cold ones in the fridge.”

“No, thanks,” I said.

That earned me three suspicious looks.

“You sick?”Betty asked.

“No.”

“On medication?”Frieda added.

“Not that kind.”

Grandma set down her cards and studied me.“You’ve got that face.”

“What face?”I asked, though I already knew.

“The one you get right before a confession,” she said, folding her hands.“Go on then, spill it.The girls are good for advice.We’ve all ruined a few men in our time.”

“Oh, please,” Frieda said, fanning herself.“Some of us ruined several.”

“Frieda!”

“What?It’s true.”

I hesitated.I’d planned to talk to Grandma alone, maybe over coffee in the kitchen, away from the cigarette haze and poker chips.But there was no escaping this tribunal.They were already leaning forward like vultures smelling gossip.

I sighed.“It’s… complicated.”

“Always is,” Lisa said, nodding.“Start with the man’s name.”

My mouth went dry.“Thorne.”

“Ooh,” Frieda crooned.“That sounds sexy.Like something you’d snag your stockings on.”

“He’s a professor,” I blurted.“Philosophy.”

“Lord help us,” Betty muttered.“Another thinker.You sure know how to pick ’em.”

Grandma raised an eyebrow.“Go on.”

I looked down at my hands.“I like him.A lot, but I’m not… I don’t know.I’m not the type I think he usually goes for.”

Lisa leaned in, elbows on the table.“And what type is that?”

“The confident kind.The ones who can walk into a room and own it.”

“Felix, honey,” Grandma said gently, “you’ve been hiding behind books since you were old enough to read them.That man’s not gonna find out how special you are unless you let him see you.”

Frieda snorted.“Let him see you naked.That’s what your grandmother means.”

“Frieda!”

“Vanessa, stop pretending you were a saint.You had that mailman on a leash for ten years.”

Grandma blushed.“He was widowed.”