Page 67 of The Late Hit
Sitting up, I pull down my skirt, watching Peters’s eyes follow my movement. Clearing my throat, I finally find my voice.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity. Would it be possible to get back to you?”
Annoyance and confusion flash over his face. Peters doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who is used to being told “no” or asked to wait. Just as quickly as the annoyance flashed across his face, he schools his features, that flirty smirk coming back.
“Of course, Brinley. Just don’t take too much time. This is an arrangement that would benefit both of us, and I’d love to get started sooner rather than later.”
“Of course,” I reply, and quickly scoop up my backpack, walking toward the door.
I can feel his eyes trailing my movement. As much as everyone talks about having a fling with their professor, this whole exchange has left me feeling extremely uncomfortable. Making my way out of his office, I continue pulling my skirt down. I know it’s an appropriate length, but after that talk, I just feel dirty.
Quickening my pace, I push open the doors to Rogers Hall. Taking in a long inhale of fresh air, I feel like I can finally breathe again. But as I start walking toward the Union, I can't help but sense I’m being watched. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Professor Peters standing at his window, watching me. A shiver runs through me. I’m officially feeling sketched out.
Inside the Union, I go straight to the cafeteria. Skipping my usual salad, I head over to the grill. I need something fried ASAP. Deciding on the fried veggie medley, I grab a Coke from the drink machine and make my way to the checkout.
“Oh, honey, please tell me this isn't your lunch,” Tina, my favorite cashier, says.
Smiling at her, I pull out my card and swipe it.
“Then I won’t tell you that this is my lunch.”
Tina just shakes her head.
“Are you okay, dear?”
“Of course,” I say way too loudly with a wobbly smile.
Narrowing her eyes, she stares at me. Skimming my features for any crack in my mask.
“If you say so,” she says. “Have a good day, hon.”
“Thanks, Tina. Have a good one too.”
Grabbing my tray, I scan the room for my friends. My eyes snag on Cody, who’s waving his hands in the air. Instantly, I feel at ease. Dropping my tray across from Cody, I sit down in a seat next to Quinton. Picking up my straw, I hit it on the table with more force than necessary, in hopes to get it open.
“Jeez, B, what’d that straw do to you?” JP asks with a chuckle.
But I don’t respond. Feeling the looks of both Cody and Quinton, my initial reaction is to hunker down in my chair and hide.
Cody speaks first. “What the hell did he do?”
The straw finally pops out of the paper, and I slip it into the lid of my fountain Coke, taking a large gulp before responding.
“Nothing. He just wanted to clear the air from last week,” I lie.
Cody sees right through the lie.
“Bullshit.”
Quinton hasn’t said anything yet. He just stares at me, burning a hole in the side of my face. I haven’t looked at him. If he can ignore me all morning, I can ignore him too. We’re playing a real childish game.
“Everything is fine,” I say, dipping a fried cauliflower in the ranch dipping sauce.
Cody looks at me, and then looks at Quinton.
“You’re a fucking liar,” he says, looking at Quinton for help. He isn't getting any from him. “What’s going on between you two? Something happen after I left last night?”
I sneak a glance at Quinton as his jaw flexes. But the moment is interrupted by Macy. She slams her tray down on the table, making me jump.
