Page 40 of Wicked Little Secret
“That wouldn’t at all surprise me. Samson’s… Samson. He’s the opposite of his sister. He wants what he wants and he goes for it. But he also throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get it.”
“I’m sure you’d prefer advice from someone other than your criminal law professor—and, frankly, I’m not sure how appropriate it is that I am about to give it—but if he’s having a difficult time accepting your boundaries, then it sounds like he is not worth your time.”
I smirk without thinking. “Professor, are you seriously telling me to dump my boyfriend right now?”
“I didn’t… I mean, I was simply saying?—”
“Because you’re late,” I finish with a soft laugh. “Pretty sure we’re done after tonight.”
He releases a breath that’s hard to miss. “Well, that sounds like a smart decision on your part.”
“Thanks. And thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to.”
“I realize I didn’t. However, I would say I owe you an apology. Something somewhat rare coming from me,” he says and I laugh again. “I’ve perhaps been too harsh on you. Harsher than I would be on other students.”
“Can I ask why you never call on me? Is it something I’ve said? Done?”
He spends another block of our drive in thought to the point I almost give up on receiving an answer. We’ve slowed down as we join a short line of other cars held up by a red light. It’s enough of an excuse for him to glance at me in the deep shadows of the car.
“You are a very gifted student,” he says plainly. “Perhaps the smartest in any of my classes. It’s impossible notto be impressed with you. But if I let you answer every question, what would the others learn? I might have overcorrected.”
I’m speechless as the car rolls into motion again. My heart thumps faster in my chest, an immediate longing inside me to squeal in excitement. The professor I’ve tried to impress the most has taken notice. He’s just as impressed as I hoped he’d be.
The validation has me biting back a smile.
We finally arrive outside my apartment complex where most of the windows are either dark or blacked out by drawn curtains.
“Here we are,” he says.
“You didn’t have to. I owe you another coffee.”
“Think nothing of it, Miss Oliver. Go on. Head up. I’ll wait.”
The same belly flip from earlier makes itself known. I can’t help drawing an instant comparison between this moment and all the previous times Samson’s dropped me off, speeding away before I’ve barely made it down the sidewalk.
“Thanks,” I murmur, grabbing my bookbag. My other hand goes for my seatbelt, fumbling with the buckle.
Professor Adler notices, his eyes widening behind the lenses of his black-framed glasses. “It jams sometimes. Here, let me help you.”
He leans closer, his proximity like an invisible cloak thrown over me. He doesn’t just come closer, he encroaches. Heinvades.
His arms extend over my lap and his woody scent, reminiscent of pages in a lengthy book, inundates my senses. His fingers, so long and sturdy and perfect, enclose on the seat buckle, applying some muscle I don’t have.
I’m left sitting still, holding my breath, processing the fact that he’s so close.
Too close.
His hand brushes mine. Heat shoots through me at the barest contact. Our eyes catch on each other’s face. For an uncertain second, we blink at each other in the tight, confined space of his car, and it feels like my heart’s about to bust out of my chest.
Then it’s over. The moment ends. He lets go as the seatbelt unclicks and he recedes back onto the driver’s side.
“You better go,” he says, a rough edge to his voice that’s new. “Good night, Miss. Oliver.”
The next minute or so passes as a blur. I’m sure I mumblegoodnightbefore I scramble out of his car and make my way up to my apartment. It seems the next time I’m blinking, my bookbag’s crashing down on my coffee table and I’m kicking off my ankle booties.
I peel off my coat and scarf still reeling from the night I’ve had. I can’t begin putting into words how I feel about Professor Adler’s car ride home. Just that I’m more lost than ever how to take him. How to interpret him, and that bothers me.
…even if I still crave his approval.