Page 22 of Bachelor

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THE WEEKEND PASSEDslowly, painfully slowly. I spent most of it grading and adjusting my lecture topics or at the gym. I avoided Cassandra at all costs, which kept me busy in itself. She seemed to just appear out of nowhere sometimes, and I wasn’t the only person dodging her lately. Poor Dan ended up stuck in a two-hour-long conversation with her in the doorway of his office. I happened to walk by, nearly breaking into a sprint at the sight of her, but she was so absorbed by him that she paid me no mind.

But Dan’s eyes were glossed over, and I wondered if he might have been sleeping standing upright, eyes open.

Monday came, and I was grateful for it. It was my longest, most tedious day of the week. Tuesdays and Thursdays not so much, not with Whitney at the helm of one of my undergraduate classes.

But on Tuesday, with nothing to do after my last lecture of the end ended at exactly 5:15, I went to the building where the Sociology 101 class was being held and decided to drop in on Whitney and watch her teach.

To my surprise, the classroom was so full I had to creep along the back wall and stand for the rest of the hour. Every single seat was taken, and it was the third week of school. Normally these kids figured they could skip class and just show up for the final by now.

Also, Whitney didn’t have my lecture pulled up on the projector. She was lecturing, her hands moving as she paced back and forth in front of the class, talking about the ways to evaluate and apply the processes of sociological research against a multitude of areas of research people might not realize is based upon that specific humanity.

I watched in awe, unable to look away as she captivated the room—and me.

Hands raised with questions that she answered without faltering or stumbling over her words. Toward the end of class, she used the lecture to separate the students into two groups, making them debate a certain situation and the best way to implement the research examples they were given to solve a complex societal issue.

I ended up joining one of the two groups. The students were so enraptured by the activity they didn’t even realize who I was until Whitney called the class to a close and everyone started to funnel out of the room.

I hung back as she said goodbye to her students and spoke to a handful of them for a few minutes before they eventually left, shutting the door behind them.

She straightened the papers on the table in the center of the room. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Thoroughly,” I admitted honestly. I leaned my weight against the wall, crossing my arms over my chest. “I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?” Her emerald eyes met mine.

“That you could teach like that.”

She shrugged, sitting down behind the table and organizing her lesson notes into one of the binders I’d given her at the start of the semester. “It’s not that hard.”

“It definitely is.” I kicked off the wall and walked toward her, pulling a chair from one of the desks and sitting on it backwards, resting my arms on the top of it. “Everyone was here. No one is skipping class.”

“They’re bringing friends, too.” She smiled, her cheeks going a little pink. She was more than pleased with herself, I could tell.

I was pleased, too, and still a little shocked. I’d known she could handle it, but she took a class that people only signed up for because they had to and turned it into something they wanted to attend, maybe even looked forward to.

I couldn’t do that.

“You should be a teacher.”

Her eyes flicked up to mine. She laid her hands flat on the table. “Rhys, it’s not that deep.”

“You should have seen yourself, Whitney. You had me... totally enthralled. I even joined one of your groups toward the end of class and participated in the debate before I remembered I was just here to check in.”

Her genuine smile lit the room. “I saw that. I was wondering what you were up to. I’m sorry for not using your presentation on the subject today, but this group just likes to hear me talk, I think.”

“I don’t blame them. I could listen to you lecture for hours and not get sick of it.”

“Oh, really?” she said, giving me her signature cat-like smile.

My chest tightened at the sight of that quirk of her lips and the heated look in her eyes, even if she just meant in a totally innocent, playful way. I hadn’t seen it in so long, and I’d forgotten how much I loved it.

“Maybe I should keep dropping in. Sounds like you could teach me a thing or two.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me with a good time, Professor. I’d make sure to assign you the most asinine, tedious homework you’ve ever seen and give your own assignments a run for their money.”

“Is that a challenge, Ms. Dahl?”

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