Page 15 of Unapologetic Obsession
There had been gossip about female students’ infatuation with Professor Maxwell; it was one of the reasons why he didn’t like teaching. During orientation, Miles indirectly warned us of the professor’s zero-tolerance policy for misconduct and pointedly stared at the female demographic. That was before he arrived and chased us away.
When the boys shook their heads at Amelie for forgetting the rule so quickly, she tried to justify herself. “It’s not just me.” The pitch of her voice was high in protest. “We all know the girls at this university are crazy about him. The nurses at the hospital, too.”
My eyes widened, brows rising toward my hairline. The others were similarly surprised by the news.
“You work with him?” Matt asked, his hand freezing in midair before reaching for the soap.
Amelie scoffed. “No oneworkswith Dr. Maxwell. More like we work around him.”
Sean and Matt exchanged confused looks.
“He does rounds at the hospital once a month,” she explained. “But we aren’t allowed to speak to him.”
My mouth hung open slightly in disbelief. They worked together, but Professor Maxwell had no idea because Amelie wasn’t allowed to approach him. What a jerk.
Never mind. It was impossible to get through to someone like him. Most of the students would drop this class if he continued to use them as free labor, and for the ones who didn’t, he would make their lives hell. What if he refused to teach us for the rest of the semester and determined our grades based on more arbitrary tests? I needed six science credits to graduate at the end of the semester. If I dropped this class, I could say goodbye to my dream of graduating early. My mood dipped at the sudden unpredictability. I couldn’t believe my future hung at this man’s mercy.
I peeked at him through my lashes, wondering what I had gotten myself into.
Amelie elbowed me. “Are you insane? Don’t look directly at him. He’ll bite your head off if he catches you.”
She was right. Despite going toe to toe with him and calling him hot behind his back, she wisely refrained from ogling him for good reason. Rumor had it, Professor Maxwell had reported eight female students—and one colleague—for misconduct. It was natural for the female demographic to become somewhat enamored with a hot, young professor in a sea of older ones. But Professor Maxwell loathed the adolescent attention and demanded that the dean make an example out of them to discourage such inappropriate behavior in the future. The dean was eager to bask in the glory of his star faculty member. He feared the professor would terminate his contract on the grounds of sexual harassment and brought the students under strict disciplinary action. Some were expelled. A prestigious university naturally brought in big donors and was worth morethan the contributions from the students’ families. Other than forcing student assistants onto him, the dean would go to any lengths to pacify Professor Maxwell, and the thing he hated the most was lovesick women at his workplace. Even perceived transgression would result in getting kicked out of his class and facing expulsion.
I looked away from the professor, examining the vial between my fingers.
“She wasn’t looking at him likethat,” Matt said defensively. His blue eyes flitted between me and Professor Maxwell, unsurely. “Right, Rose?”
I quickly shook my head, and Amelie threw her head back, a cascade of curls falling over her shoulders as she chuckled, her soft laughter tinkling like wind chimes. “Every girl’s looking at himthatway,” she said.
Sean groaned while my lips twisted into a reluctant smile, carefully wiping down the wet glassware.
Rookie mistake.
Amelie bumped shoulders with me, taking it as a sign that I was ready to come out of my shell. She often correctly deduced when I was comfortable speaking in a group, but, at times, missed the mark.
She turned her big brown eyes on me expectantly, hoping I would chime in with lighthearted banter. “Don’t let them think I’m some thirsty bitch. I can’t be the only one who made out his biceps under the lab coat,” she pressed.
A familiar panic fluttered in my chest when all eyes landed on me. If only my voice could leap from my throat as fearlessly as hers. Instead, it remained locked away, a prisoner of my own making. So far, I got away with shrugs and noncommittal grunts within the group, but now, the focus was on me. It made me feel like I was standing naked in a snowstorm.
I shrugged, a silent language spoken with my shoulders. With a timid smile, I focused on the residue stubbornly clinging to the glass. I sighed in relief when she took the hint and moved on. She turned her attention to the others, her attempt to include me fading with the buzz of the conversation.
Unlike Amelie, I preferred to navigate the world invisibly. I was a shadow, flitting on the edges of interaction, seen but seldom heard. The only time I was comfortable speaking in groups was after getting to know the members intimately or after several drinks. That was why I steered clear of classes with tons of group work, but six science credits were too good an opportunity to pass up.
I regretted my decision when Professor Grump assigned our group another useless task—organizing the supply closet. Damon’s image flickered in my mind as my hands moved robotically to measure solvents.
How could twins be so different?
Damon was approachable, whereas Professor Maxwell was guarded; no one was good enough to live up to his impossible standards.
Damon had an easy smile, while his brother only wore cruel smirks.
Damon’s blue eyes were kind; Professor Maxwell’s looked like they belonged to the devil.
Damon wore his wavy hair loose while his brother slicked his back like a Disney villain.
If it weren’t for our families, I would have a beacon of hope in pursuing Damon. But after what happened to Rayyan, I feared our differences were irreconcilable.
My cousin, Rayyan, fell off a cliff a few months ago. According to the autopsy results, he was high as a kite when he plummeted to his death, and though the news gutted me, I never questioned the legitimacy of the findings. After all,Rayyan was impulsive with a debilitating drug addiction. The rest of my family wasn’t so convinced and insisted Damon Maxwell was behind the accident. Grief had a way of blinding people and making them deaf to logic. If they found out I held a torch for Damon or I was taking his brother’s class, I would face consequences for going against them.
