Page 27 of The Masks We Break

Blaze Bardot

[email protected]

Subject: Re: Graded Response to Sci-Fi Paper 1-D.Humphrey

Miss Solace,

I have questions regarding my grade and would like to set up a time to meet and discuss said assignment. I don’t think I was made aware to the fullest extent of what the paper needed to entail, as my syllabus was missing a few pages. It has come to my understanding you were the one responsible for the copies. As you are aware, we, as humans, are prone to error and perhaps miscommunication, which I believe is the culprit in this situation.

I look forward to meeting you soon to discuss this matter further and coming to an understanding in which we are both satisfied.

With respect,

Blaze Bardot

555-0102

I read the email at least twelve more times before the heat finally leaves my cheeks. One thing’s for sure, he’s going to be an awesome businessman. For a second I feel incompetent, like I really messed up. But I have plenty of extra copies of Dr. Humphrey’s syllabus here to prove they were printed correctly. Still, my lack of a relationship with the professor is clear, and I’m sure he would believe Blaze.

Chewing on the inside of my lip, I read it again, purposely stopping before the last sentence. Something about it lit a fire low in my belly I can’t seem to shake.

Maybe I can email him back and let him know there has, in fact, been a misunderstanding and give him a B. I’m sure he won’t object.

Then I can go back to pretending he doesn’t exist outside of my imagination.

Ha. Yeah, right.

I play with the keys on my computer, trying my best to squash down the insistent butterflies in my stomach. Maybe if I text Ricky…

With the full intention to message him, I grab my phone and pull up a new thread. But it isn’t Ricky who I end up texting.

Me: Do you really think watching a movie in a LITERATURE course is appropriate?

My pulse skyrockets, thrumming in my neck so hard, my left eye begins to twitch. We agreed to keep our distance. Why would I—

Three typing bubbles appear, and a gasp escapes my mouth.

555-0102: As stated in my email, the instructions were unclear. I provided my assignment based on what little direction I was given.

Me: At any time during this assignment or any others, I am always available for questions. You did not email me, therefore you had a complete understanding of what was required.

555-0102: Thank you for your time.

I stare at the screen of my phone, slack-jawed. Really? Thank you for your time? What kind of passive-aggressive response is that?

Irritation flares in my gut, and my teeth gnaw into my bottom lip as I consider his text. Is he accepting the grade he earned, or will he go to Dr. Humphrey? I mean, I don’t think he would do that. But then again, my knowledge of Blaze is pretty limited.

Before I know what I’m doing, my sandals are on my feet, and I’m halfway across the lawn.

Incredibly frustrating feelings aside, the idea of being borderline threatened irks me too much to ignore. And if he thinks I’ll let that slide—

As I raise my fist to pummel his door, it flings open and Blaze stands at the threshold. A dark pair of silk pajamas hang from his hips, letting his Adonis belt peek from the top. Again he’s shirtless, and little beads of water have fallen onto his chest from his still-wet hair. It’s shorter than it used to be but just as shaggy, dropping in a sexy way over his face and making my core clench. It’s unfair how immaculate he is, but also a little ironic—made of stone, both inside and out.

“Is there something I can help you with, puppet?”

I force my eyes back up to the storms in his and cross my arms. “Are you going to redo the paper?”

Blaze actually smirks, thrusting my heart into overdrive as he looks down, then lets his eyes travel slowly back up. I squirm in response, a combination of unwelcome arousal and irritation roaring in my bloodstream.

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