“-that the final project for this class will be a detailed analysis of previous case law, arguments, and judicial decisions in the particular topic that you are assigned. Not only will a twenty-five page analysis of your topic be due at the end of this semester, but you will also be asked to present oral arguments against and in defense of your subject.”
Pacing away from the podium, Professor Thornton crossed the front of the room to snatch a folded sheet of paper from Clayton’s desk.
Holding it up for the class to see, he explained, “Due to the magnitude of this assignment, each of you will be assigned a senior student advisor who will work with you on your given subject. On the date of your oral arguments, your advisor will act as your opposing counsel. These student assignments were generated randomly, and the seniors selected have been contacted. Included in the papers being given to you is the contact information for the senior student who will be working with you. I suggest opening a line of communication with them tonight in order to begin preparing.”
He dropped the folded sheet of paper back on Clayton’s desk. Taking it, Clayton added it to a stack and pushed out of his seat to walk up the stairs between aisles, handing a stack to the first student in each row.
While he did that, the professor said, “Take the paper that has your name on it and pass the rest down the line. I’ll wait to begin today’s lesson until every person has their assignment.”
Patiently waiting while the students quietly took their paper and passed them down the row, I snatched mine from the top when it finally reached me. I passed the remaining papers down as my finger slipped between the folded sides of mine and popped the staple holding them together.
Excited to discover what area of tort litigation I would be arguing, I smiled to see my topic was Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, my eyes scanning down further until stopping on the name of the senior with whom I would be working.
Bile crept up the back of my throat, my stomach twisting and turning beneath my skin and my heart beating with a heavy thump to see that fate fucking hated me.
Tanner Caine’s name glared back at me in taunting black ink boldly printed on white paper, his phone number listed beneath that.
There was no way in hell I would be able to work with that son of a bitch on this project. My head snapped up toward the front of the class, my panicked eyes meeting Clayton’s.
He must have sensed something was wrong because his brows shot up his forehead in question. Lifting his phone from the surface of his desk, he shook it back in forth to silently tell me to text him my problem.
I pulled my phone from my bag and shot off a text.
Tanner Caine has been assigned as my senior advisor. I DO NOT want to work with him. Not after what happened at the bonfire. Is there anything you can do to get me reassigned?
His eyes lifted to meet mine, his expression sympathetic. Breaking our stare, he looked down at his phone as his thumbs raced over the screen.
My phone vibrated in the next second with his response.
Let me see what I can do. I’ll try to manually change it. If that doesn’t work, I’ll speak to Professor Thornton after class.
His response helped relieve some of my panic, but until I knew for sure that he could get this changed, my heart would continue beating an erratic rhythm in my throat, a buzzing sound in my ears from the rush of blood making it impossible for me to listen to the class discussion.
Luca
Slowly packing up my empty notebook - because who can take notes when they’re worried about facing off with Satan? - I glanced down at the front of the classroom to watch Clayton having a whispered discussion with Professor Thornton.
The fact that he looked concerned told me that he hadn’t been able to manually change the senior assignment. The fact that Professor Thornton’s eyes narrowed as he whisper-hissed a curt response to Clayton’s question told me that there was no way in hell I was getting out of working with Tanner.
Defeated, Clayton glanced up at me and nudged his chin toward the back classroom doors, a silent message for me to wait for him so we could talk.
With heavy steps, I stomped out of the room, making it perfectly clear that I already knew what he would say and that I wasn’t happy about it.
Although I should have given a shit that Professor Thornton would notice my behavior, I was too irritated to care.
My fingers kept a death grip on the strap of my bag as I stormed from the classroom to wait in the hallway.
Clayton met me by the door a few minutes later, apology written into the expression of his face.
“It was a no go,” he said, an arm reaching out to catch me around the waist and pull me toward him.
“Thornton said the assignments were computer generated, completely random, and every student is stuck with whatever senior they were assigned. I couldn’t get into the program to attempt to manually change it. They have this particular project locked down tight.”
The universe hated me apparently.
Melting against his strong chest, I breathed in the scent of his cologne, wishing like hell that it would jumpstart my heart.
I should have wanted Clayton, should have been thrilled to be dating a man that was walking into a bright future, but still there was only a tiny burst of speed in my pulse to be near him. Nothing like what I felt anytime Tanner snuck into my thoughts.
What the hell was wrong with me? How was I going to work side by side with a man I wanted, but at the same time hated?
“Thanks for trying,” I finally answered.
Clayton kissed the top of my head, finally letting me go enough that he could look down at my face.
“He’s not that bad. And I doubt what he did at the bonfire will happen again. Tanner doesn’t pay attention enough to remember any girl, even the ones he’s slept with. I doubt he’ll remember yelling at you the first night you met, or what happened at the gauntlet party. Just give him a call and see if you can schedule to meet in public, if that will make you feel better.”
The only thing that would make me feel better was to be assigned to another senior partner, but considering that wasn’t going to happen, the only option I had was to call Tanner and get this over with.
Saying goodbye to Clayton, I walked out of the building into the bright sunshine and took a seat on a bench beneath a tall maple tree, its leaves a brilliant array of color now that we were edging into the fall season.
Winter would be coming soon, the temperatures dropping as quickly as the leaves from the trees.
Pulling my phone and the slip of paper with my assignment from my bag, I dialed Tanner’s number, a deep sigh blowing over my lips as I brought the phone to my ear.
At the sound of the first ring, my heart jumped into my throat, anxiety riding my body so hard pain shot across my muscles and bones.
“What?”
A deep tenor voice cut across the line in answer, annoyance obvious in his tone.
My first instinct was to hang up, quit the class and possibly change school just to escape the asshole who couldn’t be bothered with a polite greeting when answering his phone, but I’d be damned to give up my future over a man who enjoyed treating people like crap.
If Tanner wanted to play who could be the biggest asshole, I was ready to straighten my spine, roll back my shoulders and show him I wouldn’t be just another person he could intimidate.
I’d fight back.