Page 14 of Unapologetic Obsession
Clearing my throat, I glanced away. “Okay, then,” I started, reclaiming the silence with the sharpness of my voice. “Since I can’t discourage you from taking this lab, who’s ready for a pop quiz?”
The eager faces fell simultaneously. It was the first thing today that brought a smile to my face.
Chapter
Six
ROSE
My heart danceda dangerous tango as I watched Damon stride out of the lab. I was just a kid when I met him. It didn’t stop me from falling in love with him. I had always hoped he would recognize the depth of my feelings one day, but Damon made it clear he would never return my affections. It didn’t help that our families hated one another.
At least, his brother didn’t concern himself with our family drama. Professor Maxwell was harsh, but he was also known to segregate personal matters from the professional ones. I signed up for this class, hoping he wouldn’t tamper with my grades because of my last name. I needed these science credits to graduate, but if I could shoot for the stars, what I really wanted was to work for the elusive professor. A position in his lab—or even just a recommendation letter from him—could set you up for life. He was notoriously stingy with both, nor had he ever given out an A.
I felt a trace of hope as I read the questions he posed on the board. Thanks to the administrators at this university, I knew the answer to four out of five of them. They recommended a textbook for this lab, written by the man himself, and I read it cover to cover. By the looks my classmates wore, they didn’texpect a test without so much as a lecture. Frantic whispers surrounded me, followed by wide-eyed exchanges. Professor Maxwell ignored their grumbles and returned to his workstation as if he had done his part for the day.
The room hummed with tension once Miles, the teaching assistant, collected the answers to the pop quiz. The lab was three hours long. Professor Maxwell spent the first fifteen minutes arguing with his brother and the next fifteen minutes quizzing us on a lecture he never gave. Everyone stared at him, dreading what else he had in store for the remaining two and a half hours.
My nerves fluttered like trapped birds against their cages when Miles cleared his throat for the hundredth time to grab the professor’s attention. Professor Maxwell finally lifted his head from the microscope. The TA nodded at us pointedly, silently asking for further instructions.
Professor Maxwell sighed heavily. “It seems you are in need of a task. Wipe down the cabinets and counters. Then, dispose of the biohazard trash. Miles can show you where it goes.”
“Um,” Miles started awkwardly. “We can’t force students to clean?—”
A scathing glare from our resident grump silenced his protests. “I thought students signed up for this class to learn. The first thing you should learn in a lab is proper hygiene, which includes cleaning up residues and disposing of biohazard materials. It’s so simple that I could train amonkeyto do it.”
I stifled a smile at his backhanded comment. I would have been fazed if I hadn’t had ample practice dealing with people like him. He reminded me of my cousin, Poppy. She also preferred solitude and regularly pushed others away, but her bark was worse than her bite. Breaking through her walls was worth it because people like them were fiercely loyal. It was the reason I found Professor Maxwell’s grouchiness endearing.
He faced us then and pointed a thumb at the door. “If you consider cleaning beneath you, then there’s the door,” he added, his voice cutting through the whispers like a scalpel. There was a wishful longing in his tone, hoping we would take the bait.
Everyone glanced at Amelie expectantly when she rose from our shared lab table. She stood up to the professor when he called us monkeys, and there was hope she’d come to the rescue again. To their surprise, she merely flipped her long, dark strands over her shoulders and picked up a paper towel roll. Stunned, I watched her wipe down the counters.
Amelie had been my roommate since our freshman year of college. She was an heiress to a multimillion-dollar company before her family lost their fortune. She attended this university on a scholarship and didn’t share the snobbish mindset of the general student body. After her family went destitute, she got a job at the university hospital as a nursing assistant to pay for the things her scholarship didn’t cover. She planned on becoming a registered nurse upon graduation and had a good head on her shoulders. If she believed the professor intended to teach us hygiene, so should I.
Following her lead, I grabbed another paper towel roll and watched in awe as the heirs of tycoons at this elitist university reluctantly joined us. The shuffle of footsteps filled the lab as my classmates busied themselves with chores. I held my breath, watching Professor Maxwell out of the corner of my eye. He was a tempest, his presence commanding attention, though he paid us no mind.
For the next hour, we polished his lab until it sparkled. The menial labor urged solidarity among my three lab partners, assigned by Miles. Other than Amelie, there was Sean McCarthy, a spirited redhead whose father owned a high-end fashion brand. Matt Doyle was the all-American golden boy with an equally rich father. He was overtly helpful and clung to myside. A pit in my stomach settled at his proximity, and despite my subtle letdowns, he dusted the cabinets next to the ones I was cleaning. I was merely glad there were other people in the group so his attention wasn’t solely on me.
Everyone in the group boasted well-known last names, and though Amelie was the only one who no longer had an inheritance, it was evident she was our pack leader. Her magnetism drew people in, and the ordinarily snobby elites forgave her humble circumstances. My gaze flitted between her and the counter, admiring her extroverted nature while I fought to keep my thoughts safely locked behind a demure smile.
What was it like to possess the charisma to pull everyone into your orbit?
I dismissed the thought as quickly as it entered my mind. In my experience, watching as an outsider was better than participating. There wasn’t much time to ponder the missed opportunities anyway. Professor Maxwell made us wash beakers and organize the supplies as soon as we finished the first task. I tried to convince myself there was intent behind his stern exterior and sharp words. After an hour of sweating and grunting, I begrudgingly admitted he didn’t care about teaching us hygiene. He was merely running out the clock. He hadn’t even glanced up from his microscope.
The other students had also had enough of him, and I sensed the attitude shift in their disgruntled murmurs. The spark of leftover optimism waned in the classroom, and soon, my group bonded over a common enemy instead of a common purpose.
“Can you believe this asshole?” Sean whispered under the clinking of beakers. “If he doesn’t want to be a professor, why not resign?”
I couldn’t have agreed more. As much as the professor reminded me of my cousin, and I wanted to be on his side, teaching wasn’t his calling.
“He probably gets off on this shit,” Matt muttered so only the four of us would hear. He pried the wet glassware I had washed out of my grasp. “Let me dry that for you,” he said with a charming smile.
Amelie rolled up her sleeves, dipped a dish brush into soapy water, and scrubbed a beaker with more force than necessary. “Why are the hot ones always such jerks?” she asked absentmindedly.
We turned to her in unison and found her cheeks burning bright. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“What?” she said defensively. “The man is ripped. Like, seriously, dude, pick a struggle. Don’t be a jerk and a male model.”
Male models are often jerks,I couldn’t help thinking.
