Page 11 of Directing You
Professor Bradley was silent as he studied me. Those thick fingers of his, which had not long ago been inside my body, played with the edge of the red pen on his desk. Finally, he nodded. “Better. Okay, class,” he said, standing, “we’ll see you Wednesday. Don’t forget to look through those character descriptions on the message board before you come in next.”
Everyone stood, gathering their things, and as I slid my laptop into my bag, Professor Bradley added, “Ms. Stone, please see me before you leave.”
Fuck. So close.
Ms. Dercy walked by my desk and scooped the untouched but now nearly melted Frappuccino into her manicured hands. “Seems like you learned something today,” she said with a humoring smile. I wasn’t sure if she meant it to be a dig, but it sure as shit felt like it.
With a little wave at Professor Bradley, she exited the room along with everyone else, leaving the two of us alone. The air was thick, wrought with tension and history that neither of us asked for or wanted.
“Ms. Stone,” he said pointedly. “Did you know you were going to be in my class?”
I shook my head. “No,” I hissed, my voice a raspy whisper as I glanced at the wide-open door. “The department kept Faith’s replacement a huge secret. We finally got a message in the class chat room last night, but I was…” my voice faded as I collected myself. “I, uh, I was at work. As you know.”
Professor Bradley sighed and stood, crossing to the door and starting to close it. He paused before it clicked shut, looking at me. “Is it okay if we shut this?”
I nodded.God, yes. Please shut that door.
It clicked as he closed it. “You sure you didn’t get that message before work?”
Anger flared at my core. First, he’d called me a whore. Now he was implying… what exactly? That this was some sort of setup to ruin his reputation? “No, I didn’t. I had no idea who you were last night—and in retrospect, I’m going to kill Noah becausehemust have known we at least were going to be at this school together, if not in the same class.”
He closed his eyes, hissing a sigh. “Fucking Noah. Get in line, ’cause I’m going to kill him first.”
“Look, I’m sorry I was late. I will do my best not to let it happen again, but I work here. I work for Ms. Dercy and that stupid coffee was for her. Only she wasn’t in her fucking office—”
“Language, Ms. Stone. In here, I’m not yourclient. I’m yourprofessor.”
“Shit, sorry. I mean, shoot! Jesus.” I pressed my fingertips to my brow, rubbing the pulsing headache budding there and taking a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Ms. Dercy was here in this classroom, otherwise I would have been on time.”
He nodded and his eyes flicked to the door, following where she had left a few minutes ago.
I twisted my hands in my lap. I hated that, all of a sudden, this man that I’d felt such power over last night now held all the cards. He held all the power. I fucking hated it…and if I was being honest, it turned me on, too, in a way that made me worry my Feminist card might be revoked. “Look, Professor Bradley… I need this job. I needbothof my jobs. And if the school ever found out what I did at night…with the stupid integrity clause for employees here, I’d be fired in a second. And I can’t afford this program without the faculty discount. I could lose my job. My scholarship. My placement in the program—”
His expression softened for the first time all morning. His fingers against his thigh twitched, and for a moment, I thought he might reach out to touch me. “Is that true? Even with an integrity clause, I don’t think the school can dictate what you do in your free time.”
I blew out a breath. Rosa had said the same thing to me. “Maybe. But I don’t want to risk it. I don’t want them to know. I don’t want the professors or students to view me differently because I dance in pasties at night.”
He seemed to consider that a moment before nodding. “Don’t worry, Ms. Stone. Your secret is safe with me.”
A sigh escaped my lips, and I felt at least half of the tension in my body melt away. I could deal with everything else—but I’m not sure what I would’ve done if he had wanted to be a dick and hold my job over my head. “Thank you.”
He walked to his desk, lifting his bag on top, and packed up as he spoke. He moved with a powerful ease, strong yet graceful. “As helpful and enlightening as this has been, I actually didn’t ask you to stay to talk about any of this.”
“No?”
“No. I want to know why in the hell a dancer with your talent is going to school to be behind the scenes?” He paused briefly, then held up his hands. “Now…I haven’t heard you sing or act yet. Granted, you might be terrible.” He glanced up at me from beneath impossibly thick and long lashes, his green eyes somehow brighter beneath the fluorescent lights. “But something tells me youaren’tgoing to be terrible. I usually have good instincts about these things.”
I hiked my bag higher onto my shoulder and sighed. “Everyone in this city wants to be on stage. I just want to make a good living in this industry. By whatever means possible. For a while, that was burlesque,” I said, whispering the word. “I got to dance and be on stage and pay my bills. And when I was younger, that was enough. But now…it’s not. And the roles I’m usually cast in no longer interest me.”
“What roles are those?”
I swallowed. “Anything that showcases my tits and ass.”
He grew silent, lips pressed together like I had noticed they tended to do when he was deep in thought.
“Is that all?” I asked. “I didn’t get much sleep last night and I have filing to do for Professor Dercy before my next class.”
He nodded and stepped aside, gesturing to the door. “I want you to audition for the workshop regardless. I won’t guarantee you’ll get in, but I want you to go for it. I’m sort of known in this industry for nontraditional casting.”
I slowed as I reached for the handle and nodded. “I’ll audition.” He didn’t give us much choice. I paused, breathing in his masculine scent. Like pine. And smoke. “But I’m not above turning down a role either. I’m very specific about the part I want to play in the stories I tell.”
“Like a sexed-up Willy Wonka?” he snapped in response behind me. I didn’t bother turning around. The jab was out of line, and from the way he hissed out a breath, he knew it too.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “That was a low blow.”
My jaw was as tight as my grip on the doorknob. “You’re good at those,” I said, opening the door and leaving before he could say anything else. This time,Iwas going to have the final word.
