Page 4 of Bachelor

Whitney shifted her weight and looked up at me with those pleading eyes.

“Is this what you want? Or would you rather be placed in the Arts Department?” I asked, but Cassandra took a step between us, giving Whitney her shoulder.

“It’s not up to the students,” she crooned in a near whisper. “The chancellor already signed off on it. So she’s all yours! You’re welcome. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

Cassandra gave us a beaming smile, her straight white veneers on display, before floating through the crowd and out of sight.

I glanced down at Whitney, who was watching her walk away, her brow furrowed and cheeks stained pink.

My heart lurched, but I quickly stifled the sinking feeling of regret starting to seep back into my chest. I’d spent weeks trying to get over her, to come to terms with what we’d done and how I’d pushed her away. I’d shattered her heart, and I’d hoped we wouldn’t have to cross paths at all this semester.

But here she was, my TA, which meant we’d be working closely together.

“I didn’t know,” I said firmly.

Whitney looked up at me and shrugged. “Neither did I.”

An uncomfortable silence settled between us for several moments as we absently watched the partygoers.

“The 101 class is twice a week at five. An hour long, and so far slated to be thirty or so students, mostly freshmen taking it as a required course.” I sighed heavily and tucked my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. “You’ll lecture once a week, and the second class I’ll... find something for them to do. Normally they come to class for a few weeks and then you don’t see them again until midterms.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” she replied softly, her eyes still focused on the room around us. “Why did she assume we’d never met? You were my professor all semester.”

“She’s brand new. I can give her the benefit of the doubt there.” I rolled my lower lip between my teeth as Cassandra came back into view, dragging another student behind her. “I met her for the first time this morning, and I can’t say she’s my favorite person so far.” Not after this.

“Thank for you not saying anything.”

I looked down at Whitney. “Why would you think I would do that you?”

She looked up at me finally, her eyes shining with something I couldn’t read. I used to be able to read those thoughts and emotions behind her eyes. Maybe a month apart had put a safe distance between us. That didn’t mean it hurt any less.

When she didn’t reply, I said, “Look, Whitney. I’m sorry.”

“We can’t talk about that here.”

I flexed my jaw, exhaling deeply. She was right; we couldn’t talk about that here. We probably shouldn’t be talking about it at all. “How was your break?” It took an incredible amount of effort to even ask.

A hint of a smile touched her lips as she turned to face me fully. “It was great. I had a wonderful Christmas. How was England?”

“It was fine. I had a lot of downtime to just... read.”

She eyed me with skepticism. “Read... and sent drunken texts, by chance?”

My cheeks burned. Now that was something we definitely couldn’t talk about here. She seemed to be enjoying the visceral reaction I was having to her jab and smirked, one dark brow arched. I decided to ignore her and say nothing further. I’d hoped she hadn’t gotten the text, especially since it had to travel across an ocean to get to her.

I wish you were here, and then several other words that might have made sense if I hadn’t been piss drunk at my local tavern when I sent it.

I decided to ignore her, unsure what kind of answer she was expecting. An apology? Well, I wasn’t sorry I’d sent it. Whatever I’d been trying to say had been the truth. I was only sorry she hadn’t replied.

“Nice seeing you.” She began to turn, and I reached out, touching her elbow to stop her.

I curled my hand into a fist, the touch sending an electric shock shooting up my arm.Hands off, I reminded myself. “Let’s meet at my office at 8 a.m. on Monday. I’m under the impression you were chosen because your course schedule this semester allows room for those two classes to be added to your schedule.”

“Yeah, that’ll work. I’m done with my classes every day at four.” She took two steps, then stopped, looking at me over her shoulder. “I’ll see you on Monday. But send over your syllabus this weekend so I can know what I’m doing, okay?”

I nodded, my chest tight as I watched her walk away and into the crowded parlor. She came up behind Jessica, who turned and handed her a glass of red wine. I brought my own drink to my lips, a forgotten glass of scotch, and drank deeply, washing the words I wanted to say to her off my tongue.

Dr. Dan Montague came up to stand beside me. “Damn, Rhys. We all wanted her as our TA this year. How’d you manage it?”

---