Page 15 of Love Under Snowfall

But she was ready.

“Bring it on, Professor Prick,” she murmured under her breath.

Clark started class six minutes late. After offering a brief apology, he proceeded with his lecture. Soon, he began calling onstudents as he went. When he finally came to Frankie, she was shocked that the question he asked was a gimme—something so easily answered with a yes or no. After she successfully responded, he moved on to the next person. He didn’t call on her again for the remainder of class.

Frankie felt torn. On the one hand, she should be relieved that she made it through another class without the wrath of Professor Clark coming down on her. But on the other hand, she almost felt snubbed. Excluded.

Once dismissed, she packed up her belongings and waited yet again for everyone to depart before she approached the abnormally disheveled Professor.

This is a bad idea. What am I doing? Just leave and count the class as a win.

“Excuse me, Professor Clark,” Frankie said tentatively.

He sighed the sigh of an exasperated man. “Miss Miller?”

She didn’t really know how to proceed. Did she ask about being skipped over in class? Did she ask if anything was wrong? Would that be crossing a boundary? She chewed on her lip for a moment, deciding what to do.

“Miss Miller, was there something you needed, or are you just trying to delay me for fun?” he asked, clenching his jaw, sapphire eyes aflame.

Her heart sped up, and she felt the heat climb from her neck to her cheeks. “Sorry, never mind.”

He grunted and gave a curt nod before returning to his papers.

Frankie turned to scurry out of the classroom, but something stopped her. She faced him once again, now about ten feet away. “It’s just . . .” She paused again. Why couldn’t she get her mouth to work?

“What,Francesca?” Not quite a yell, her name boomed outof his mouth, affecting Frankie low in her belly. Professor Clark must have recognized his dropping of typical formality because his eyes widened. He cleared his throat and neutralized his expression. “Apologies. What is it, Miss Miller?”

Taking a shallow breath, she was overcome with a wave of bravery. “I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

Professor Clark’s mouth flopped open for a second before he remembered himself and snapped it shut. He stood a little taller and straightened his shoulders as he turned to face her. His hands settled on his hips, elbow jutting out to the sides. “I am sure I don’t know what you are referring to. I’m perfectly fine.”

Everything inside Frankie urged her to accept his words and leave. But something held her. He attempted to maintain his usual composure, but a flicker in his eyes belied his efforts.

“It’s just that you’re not quite yourself today. You showed up late and seemed a little stressed. Frazzled even. You also didn’t call on me for anything other than one super easy question.” She was undeterred by his scoff. “And you aren’t dressed as you usually do. All signs point to there being something wrong, and I thought I would ask if you were all right.”

His expression softened for a flickering instant before he donned his usual irritated-yet-bored professor mask.

“Your concern is unnecessary, Miss Miller. There is no need to play social worker with me. I assure you I can manage my own life perfectly fine without yoursupport.” His tone felt more brusque than usual, almost snide.

Frankie recoiled as though being punched. She was attempting to be a decent human, one who wasn’t wrapped up in the celebration of making it through an easy class session. Her chosen career path had nothing to do with her concern. Though to him, all bleeding hearts probably looked alike.

“I wasn’t tryingto—”

“And worry not; since you found today’s session so easy, I will be sure to increase the difficulty of my questions when you return from Thanksgiving break. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another class starting shortly.”

He gathered his briefcase and papers in his arms and brushed past her. As he strode from the room, he left Francesca wondering if she should have just kept her big mouth shut.

Chapter nine

November, Seattle: Frankie

“Honey, you’re running yourself ragged,” Frankie’s mother, Patty, sighed. “You’ve worked so hard all quarter. Isn’t it time to come home and take a break? See your family?”

“I would love to, Mom, but I don’t want to get behind,” Francesca said, standing in the longest line that ever existed in a grocery store. She shifted her handbasket from one elbow to the other to balance its heft.

“What if you came home for a day or two? That wouldn’t put you behind, would it?”

“You know as well as I do that if I came home at all, you would just convince me to stay until Sunday, and then where would I be?”

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