Love is messy. The last person Natasha Chabra expected to fall for was Ty, the arrogant, hot-headed, hockey boy. Well, scratch that. Turns out Ty's not what Nat thought at all. The real Ty has carved out a place in Nat's heart, making her question e...
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"Ah, Ms. Chabra, good afternoon." Professor Davis leaned back in his chair, leather squeaking. He steepled his wrinkled yet well-manicured hands, brown eyes warm.
Fiddling with the straps of my backpack, I shifted from foot to foot.
What the literal heck was Alec doing here? Quickly, I glanced at him, then looked away.
Bookshelves lined every wall, except the wall behind Professor Davis's desk with a huge window overlooking the campus. Totally what I expected– Professor Davis didn't seem like the type to have plain coloured walls with awards or plaques or diplomas or whatever.
What I didn't expect was Alec. Like at all. He must be finishing up a meeting with Professor Davis.
Both of them looked at me expectantly.
Crap! Why was I just standing there like a doofus? Lips, move and say something!
I cleared my throat, almost choking on the saliva in my over-salivated mouth. "Uh, Professor Davis, hi," I stuttered.
Professor Davis waved a hand at Alec, who was sitting in one of the two chairs across from him. "This is Alec Ito-Russell. You were both in my course last semester."
Alec gave me a dismissive glance. He wore a black vintage hoodie with a white collar popping out the top and cuffed blue jeans with white sneakers. Perfect, polished– that was Alec Ito-Russell.
Jeez, I hadn't seen him in so frickin long. Time was such a weird thing. I could remember the warmth of our first kiss outside the bookstore like it was yesterday, but it felt like a lifetime ago too— a naive lifetime.
"Hi Nat," Alec said with a hard smile.
"Hi Alec," I parrotted, voice tight. Why wasn't he getting up? Leaving? Sayonara, sister.
I pinched the skin at my throat, eyes ping-ponging between them. "Did– did I get the time wrong?"
The clock on the wall said 3:30. Today was Wednesday, January 8th. That's what I put in my Google calendar, and my Google calendar didn't lie.
"No, not at all." His steepled hands were looking more Doofenshmirtz-like by the second. "I'll be mentoring you both this semester. Please, have a seat."
My body moved on autopilot, backpack sliding off my shoulders. My butt landed in the cushioned chair with an unladylike whoosh. I squinted at Professor Davis, who was backlit by the afternoon sun.
I'll be mentoring you both this semester.
No.
Nope.
Nope-itty-nope-nope.
I counted the stuff on Professor Davis's large desk. All the usual office supplies– sticky notes, stapler, pens and paper pads, a pencil sharpener, laptop, mouse and mouse pad, a cute lil ceramic turtle.
