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I shake my head as I take another gulp.
“Hungover?”
Again, I shake my head. “And before you ask, I’m not pregnant either. You’d have to have sex for that to happen.”
He lets out another sigh, but rather than disappointment, this one sounds like discomfort. Glancing up at him, I notice the way his brows are folded in, and his eyes won’t land on my face. It makes me smile a little to realize how easy it is to make Luke uncomfortable.
Noted.
“Do you need medical attention?” he asks.
“No,” I reply with a groan. “What I need is to skip cardio in the Texas heat.”
“Well, if you would manage your time better, you wouldn’t have to run.”
With a scoff, I rise from the floor. “Save it. I just barfed in a can in front of a room full of my peers. I don’t need a lecture from you.”
The doors to the classroom open and one of the janitors stands in the doorway, looking at us expectantly.
“It’s right here. In the trash,” Dr. Goode says, pointing to the scene of the crime.
“You called them?” I shriek, covering my face with my hands as the poor man picks up the can I just desecrated. I can’t even look at him, this poor elderly man who now has to deal with my mess. “I’m so sorry!” I cry through my hands.
“It’s okay,” the man replies, although it’s so not okay.
When the door shuts, I turn toward my professor. “I could have cleaned it up.”
“How?” he asks, turning his back toward me to pack up his things.
“I don’t know. I would have figured it out. I don’t like other people cleaning up my messes.”
“Then, don’t make messes,” he replies calmly.
Ugh, I hate him so much. I want to slap that stupid, high-and-mighty tone right out of his mouth.
“You’re so perfect, aren’t you?” I ask in frustration.
“No one’s perfect, Miss Green. But some of us just make smarter choices.”
“Fuck you, Lucas,” I snap. My fists are clenched at my sides. This day is already unsalvageable, so what’s the point in even trying? I’m sure there are consequences for cussing out your professor, but it certainly couldn’t be any worse than what I’ve already experienced today.
He spins and stares at me, looking appalled. I expect him to threaten me with some arbitrary punishment or lecture me some more, but after a moment, something like resignation washes over his face.
“Go home, Miss Green,” he mumbles before turning away again.
My jaw drops. “That’s it?”
“What more do you want from me? I already dismissed my class for you.”
“I don’t know,” I argue. “I just figured you’d tell me what a screwup I am. Or give me some talk about how you’re so much more mature and smarter than me. Fight with me or something!”
“You are not my responsibility, Miss Green. And if you are so sure that I’m more mature and smarter, then why do you need me to tell you? It seems to me that you want someone to tell you how to make your own life better, but that’s your job.”
“I’m sure you would love to tell me exactly what I’m doing wrong just so you could hold it over my head.”
“What exactly would I gain from that?” he snaps in return.
“Oh, you would so get off on that, and we both know it,” I reply with a sarcastic laugh.
