Noel Gamble turned away and was about out of the door of my office when he paused and glanced at my quote board. A pincushion of cork for all my thumbtacks to hold up Post-it notes and scraps of paper, my quote board was full of sayings from books I had collected over the years.
Slowing to a stop, he studied some of the quotes I had accumulated. “What’s this?”
No one had ever asked me that before.
I ducked my hot face, feeling suddenly shy. But it felt like he was scanning a piece of my soul. Still unsettled by how he’d asked how old I was, I mumbled, “It’s nothing. Just my quote board.”
He glanced back, and the curiosity in his blue eyes sizzled my insides.
I cleared my throat. “When I read a line from a story I like, I tack it up there.” It was kind of my thing.
“Hmm.” He lifted his hand to slip aside one of the newer quotes to read one of the older ones hidden behind it. When he gave a low chuckle, my hormones jackknifed into immediate awareness. God, his laugh was stirring. “That’s a good one.”
Since I had no idea which one he was referring to, I didn’t respond. Then again, I considered all of them good since I’d taken the time to put them there, so I probably couldn’t help but agree.
He glanced back. “‘Sometimes the questions are complicated but the answers are simple.’”
That had to be the deepest thing anyone had ever said to me. But what did he mean? Was he referring to my assignment? Did he think I’d made it too convoluted? Should I work on my teaching approach?
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me?”
He flushed slightly and turned back to the quote board to tap the Post-its. “It’s Dr. Seuss. Another quote you could add.”
“O-oh. Thanks. That...that’s actually an excellent one.” And it was. It really was. Strange.
Noel gifted me with the hint of a smile. Then he ducked his face and headed from the room.
Once he was gone, I felt bereft. Setting my hand over my heart, I sank back into my chair and blew out a long, shaky breath. Okay, so my crush on a student had just grown to epic proportions. Wonder what my flawless, judgmental mother would have to say about that?
CHAPTER FOUR
"When you're in jail, a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, 'Damn, that was fun.'" -Groucho Marx
NOEL
Tenning was loitering in the kitchen when I came through the front door of our apartment. As I kicked it shut behind me, he appeared in the opening next to the breakfast bar, barefoot and shirtless with his track pants hanging low around his hips. He only had to look at my face to know something was up.
A smug leer spread across his features. “So...how’d your meeting with Kavanagh go?”
I sent him my best fuck you glare and dropped my bag heavily on the floor before slumping spine-first onto the couch. “Feels like I just had an hour-long session with a head shrink. I swear to God, who knew literature was all about feelings and emotions? God damn.”
Tenning chuckled. “So, is she going to let you rewrite a new paper or what?”
“Actually, yeah. Freaky, huh? But only because her boss has a hard-on for me or something and forced her to give me a second chance.”
“Really? Did you have to go down on him to make that happen?” Tenning leaned against the wall and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“What?” Swiping up a throw pillow that had been lumped behind my head, I threw it at him as hard as I could. “Jesus, Ten. You’re such a crude asshole, and you completely annoy me.”
Catching the cushion to his chest, he snickered. “Damn, I love you too, babe. Hey, I bet if you offered to teach the dyke to bat for the right team, she’d change your grade to an A without you having to worry about writing another paper for the rest of the semester.”
I sighed and decided to ignore him or he’d only get worse. But the douche had hit a nerve. If he ever realized I actually thought about her in that way, he’d never let me live it down. Talk about utter humiliation.
Focusing my attention on the ceiling, I noticed a new water stain growing in the corner. Swell. The worst part was I couldn’t mention the leak to our landlord or he’d just raise our rent again, as he had this winter when we’d asked him to fix the central heating system. Repairs aren’t free, he’d said.
“Hey, quit daydreaming about banging your teacher, dickwad.” Ten kicked my feet off the end of the couch as he passed, making his way toward the hallway that led down to our separate rooms. “It’s ladies’ night. We got work to do. I call dibs on the shower first.”