Professors don’t “fill in” at our school. They’re carefully chosen from mountains of elite applications.
But he continues. “I am the founder of a Manhattan company that develops technology solutions for a range of industries. My undergraduate and master’s degrees were here at Russell.”
The Sawyer Redmond at the head of the class is definitely the man I met last night. But with me, he was mysterious and playful. This version is cool and condescending.
I check my phone, remembering a meeting I had scheduled with Lancaster this week to discuss our design projects.
It’s still in the calendar. Eerie. Untouched.
Yesterday, everything was familiar. Today, nothing is.
Emotions collide in my chest, but none of the biggest ones are about Adam. Instead, I’m sad about Professor Lancaster, elated to see the man I met last night, and horrified to see him here.
“Well, that was exhilarating,” Kat breathes as class wraps up. “Catch you later to get ready for the Omega party?”
“Sure,” I say distractedly as she takes off.
What’s etiquette for learning the man you kissed the night before is your new professor?
I can’t make eye contact and then leave without talking to him.
So I join a line of students at the front of the room.
Sawyer dismisses the first couple of inquiries fast.
The third person in line is a guy named Royce. He comes from a blue-collar family in town and is here on scholarship.
“Professor Redmond, will you be supervising the Stars Engineering Contest design team?”
“No.”
“Professor Lancaster always supervised,” Royce presses.
“I’m not him.” The words are low, Sawyer’s smooth tenor lifting the hairs along my arms.
No, you’re not.
When he turns his gaze on me, a spike of awareness stabs through me.
Dark, hooded eyes read my soul, seeming to strip away my clothes, my skin, even my thoughts.
“Yes?”
No.
This is wrong. It’s wrong that he’s here, that I feel as if I want his protection again, that the thing I want his protection from is the fucked-up reality I walked into this morning.
I’ve thought about you every damned second since we talked.
“Professor,” I start, the word feeling heavy and loaded. “Do you know if there will be a service for Professor Lancaster?”
“You’ll have to contact the department.”
“Babe?” Adam jerks his head from the doorway.
Sawyer spots Adam, his gaze narrowing.
The girl behind me bumps me hard, and I drop my tote. Sawyer and I bend at the same time to grab it.
His arm brushes my breasts, and I suck in a breath at the jolt of electricity.
“Sawyer…”
“It’s Professor Redmond to my students.” He stares at my red knees an extra beat, but when his gaze finds mine, it’s scorching. “Today and every day.”
“Liv, wait up.” Adam chases me down halfway across the hill, falling into step with me as I make my way toward the Atrium to grab a coffee before the next class. “About last night...”
I turn to face him, my heart thudding against my ribs. “The part where you went to a private room with a stripper? Or the part where I texted you, and you didn’t even acknowledge me?”
He sighs and shifts his bag on his back as if this conversation is the most irritating part of his day.
I always tolerated his moods because I reasoned he had the same pressures as I did, only more so because he’s going to take over his father’s company. Now, I think I’m over tolerating it.
“Go ahead,” I challenge. “Tell me it was a mistake.”
“It wasn’t a mistake.”
My chest aches, which is stupid. This guy I thought I loved cheated on me, and I still want his approval.
“But I don’t think you want to break up,” he goes on, “or you would’ve broken up with me ages ago. Our moms probably have the wedding venue booked.”
The wind picks up, tugging at the oak branches. It reminds me of the time I ran away near Halloween when I was nine. I rebelled against the new intensive schedule of dance and dieting my mother prescribed and insisted “she didn’t love me, and I didn’t love her.”
I made it to Central Park. Police officers approached me near dark when the pink sweater in my backpack wasn’t enough to keep me warm against the cold.
In the town car on the way home, my mom wouldn’t let go of my arm, her grip punishingly tight.
“Love is someone who is required to come and find you when you’re stupid,” she had said under her breath. “If you give that person too many reasons, they’ll stop coming.”
I shake off the memory, shoving the hair out of my face. “We’re not getting back together.”
Adam exhales. “College is a time to learn who you are. If we don’t live a little now, we’re never going to get the chance.”
“Love isn’t about being reckless, Adam. It’s about security and knowing someone will be there for you.”
I turn my back without waiting for a response.
The day I told my parents I intended to enroll in engineering, they were horrified. My mother made me promise I’d consider transferring to a more “appropriate” major.
But I explained I wanted to be with Adam, which seemed to placate them.
It was mostly true. What I learned around the same time was that I like making things. With my brain, my hands.
When I took science in high school, I was going through a tough time with dance and struggling with my body. Science didn’t give a fuck about my arches or my boobs. Though I wasn’t valedictorian or even close, it was liberating to immerse myself in a world where my results weren’t left to the whims of another person.
This spring when I built a battery to power Kat’s laptop after hers broke mid-essay right before finals, I felt as much pride as when I got into ballet school. More, because nothing my body or my mom did could take it away.
After my history elective, I tote the treat I picked up at the Atrium to the engineering department.
“Hey, Betty. Happy first week of class.”
The department admin looks up from her work. She must be well into her sixties, but her bright red hair is a curly mop on her head, and her shimmery purple eye shadow makes her kind eyes pop. On a floor occupied entirely of men, she’s a shining beacon—literally.
When I pass her the teal cupcake with gold sparkles on top, her eyes dance. “That’s sweet of you, hon.”
“They had them decorated in RU colors. The whole varsity look made me think of you. Get a look at the football team yet?”
“Oh, I’m keeping a close eye on those boys. The QB thinks he’s all that, but it’s the new runningback who’s got the best chance of making the pros. Mark my words.”
“Listen, I wanted to ask if there’ll be a service for Professor Lancaster.”
She sighs, her usually bright face filling with emotion. “You heard. Awful. No one knew he was sick. We’ll notify all students by email.”
“Can you…” My throat closes up. “Please make sure I get it? He was a special man.”