Half Of My Heart | 18+

[5]

A N Y A

• • •

Dimitri avoids me the whole week and I somehow cherish that ignorance considering I am unable to let go of the mortification of what happened between us the other night. I spend the week healing my broken heart by binge-watching popular sitcoms, going out with some random people from college, hooking up with a guy but leaving before things can lead to the third base, drinking a little, and ranting about Blake to Vanessa a lot.

I can't wait to have her with me again. She is returning this Wednesday which means I have two more days to spend by myself.

On Monday, Dimitri surprises me by asking me to stay after class. Almost everyone in the class spares me with a look of sympathy since they think the assignment I submitted is the reason. I, however, feel like the reason is something else.

He waits until every last one of my classmates has left before he locks the door, the click of it sending a jolt straight to my pussy. He strides with long legs clad in slim-fit jeans back to his desk, avoiding looking at me as he takes a seat. I drum my fingers impatiently while rolling a lock of my hair around my index finger. He is finely dressed today too in a dark shirt that molds to his skin, accentuating the bulging biceps. He has trimmed his beard, making his face appear sharper with more elegance in the rugged looks.

He clears his throat. "Anya, how are you doing now?"

I knew this had nothing to do with the assignment.

"I'm doing fine. Mr. Rossi," I tell him for the second time, wondering why he doesn't believe me.

This man is way too kind-hearted to exist in the same sphere as I do. He is literally an angel to the sphinx inside me.

I drag my ass backward, putting my elbows on his desk and resting my chin over my clasped fingers. Dimitri's gaze immediately drifts to my neckline where the V of my tank top has dipped low enough to show a generous hint of my cleavage. He tears his gaze right away and I smirk, priding myself for the effect I am having on my professor.

"Is that all, Mr. Rossi?" I ask, blinking at him.

"No," he says, then lifts a sheet of paper from his desk that I hadn't noticed there before. Seeing the words in it drains the color from my face. "I'm not happy with this turnout from you, Anya. This assignment is shit. A summary, really? Is that what I asked you to submit? I told you to give me a critical analysis and you brought me a summary that a high schooler can write better."

His mask suddenly slips to being extremely strict, carrying the note of a professor with it. I flinch back, straightening myself. His gaze is hard on me and I am too intimidated by that glare to keep eye contact. I look down at my sneakers, my hands behind my back while I wait for him to complain some more.

He surprises me by sighing instead as he drops the paper and leans back, crossing tattooed narrowly shaped forearms over his chest.

"Look, Anya..." he sighs. "I know things in your life have just taken a turn but you can't be missing out on your studies. This is about your future and your exams are nearing. You lose your focus now, your career goes to shit."

"I'm sorry, sir. I won't make that mistake again."

"You better not, Anya. Oakwood doesn't allow for mistakes." His tone is hard, completely devoid of the tenderness it had that night a week ago when he came into my apartment.

I meet his eyes briefly, trying to search in them for a glimpse of the Dimitri who let himself speak those words to me with an untamable passion.

'Like someone who wants to be fucked dirty'