Page 36 of Give In

“Is Mr. Crosby aware you don’t consider him your boyfriend?” He tsked. “No one likes a tease, Miss Wilder.”

“That’s—”

“Speaking of, I owe you this.” Sitting up, he handed me a hundred.

I knew he wouldn’t let it go.

In my mind, I took my money, ripped it up, and shoved it down his smug throat.

In real life, I ignored it. “About my paper—”

“I’m sure you’ll do your usual competent work.”

“But I’d really like to discuss—”

“Why did you think it was me?”

I’m getting mental whiplash.

My head tilted. “Pardon?”

“When you wrongfully accused me of trying to get you fired. Why’d you think it was me?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does. If I’m going to be blamed for something, I think I deserve to know why.”

“You’re the only person I could think of who hates me that much,” I revealed on a whisper.

It was barely perceptible, but his jaw clenched. “Why do you think that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I sighed, disappointment stealing my fire. “Anyway, it’s fine. You know what I do, I know you hold the power, blah, blah, blah. I just want to get this semester done. If there’s nothing else, I’ll go back to class.”

God, I hate him.

Knowing my raw emotions were written on my face, I ducked my head as if putting my notebook away required all my concentration. I used the moment to find my mask.

Masks and blank faces. Lies and secrets.

Nothing in my life is real.

Nothing but the tangled knot, growing larger and tightening beyond repair.

When I lifted my head, I saw Professor Caine had moved to lean against the front of his desk, his arms folded across his broad chest. “Christ, Eden, I don’t hate you.”

“It’s fine. I’ll see you on Monday.” Standing, I turned to leave when he grabbed my wrist.

His thumb rubbed the sensitive skin there. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“No!” Realizing how loud I’d been, I lowered my voice to a frantic whisper. “No more,please. I just want to get through this semester, be done with your class, and then we’ll never have to see each other again.”

Still holding my wrist, his grip tightened when I tried to move. “What makes you so sure I hate you?”

“You’re kidding, right? You work with everyone else, giving them notes and guiding them. But I get nothing. This is the first meeting we’ve had, and it wasn’t even to talk about my paper,” I hissed, shaking my backpack. “You don’t call on me. You won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t exist—”

“Did it ever occur to you that I was doing it for you?” He ran the hand not holding my wrist through his hair, messing it up more than usual.

“What? To motivate me? To make this a clichéd afterschool special? Should we start with the inspirational speech or just jump straight to the montage where I change my loose ways to the tune ofManiac?” I snapped my fingers. “No wait.Footloose.”

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