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As slow as asnail, Iangled my head up, nervous to see what his teasing gaze looked like up close. It smoldered, that was what it looked like.
“H—hi,” Ianswered, breaking the word in two. Ihoped one day Icould said hi like anormal person to him.
He nodded at me, then addressed Susan. “I’manew professor here. My name is Thomas Cooke. It’svery nice to meet you…”
“Susan Mitchell, nice to meet you too.” She stood up to shake his outstretched hand, beaming at him. My butt refused to lift itself off the chair.
“It’sgood to finally pair aface to the name. Erin said you were apleasure to work with.”
To my mortification, Thomas’seyes swept to mine, asmirk forming on his face. Apparently, my embarrassment correlated with this man’sjoy. “Did she really?”
“Oh, yes, and now that Isee you together, Ihave to agree with her that yourprofessionalpairing was perfect.” She patted my shoulder, giving me asubtle hint that she approved of aman that until yesterday thought the worst of me.
Some matchmaker you make, Susan.
Iadjusted myself in my seat, regretting Ididn’tbring ascarf to cover the intense blush that wouldn’tgo away, and said nothing.
Thomas, on the other hand, had plenty to say. “Iagree. Erin is the best assistant Icould have asked for.”
What was he talking about, the best? The woman who deliberately ruined his class? Icalculated in my head whether tonight was afull moon or not, with no other logical explanation for his behavior.
“Iactually need to run some ideas by her.” His eyes darted from her to me. “Unless you two aren’tdone. Ican wait.”
“We were just finishing.” She winked at me, won over by his manners. They were charming, when he tried. “Don’tworkher too hard. Bye, Erin, see you in school.”
Susan left me to fend for myself, still sitting, still glaring at him.
“Can Isit?” He waited for my response without automatically taking his place next to me.
“Yes, you can.” Thomas made an effort to be respectful, and Ithought, if he could get over yesterday, so could I.
He lowered himself to the seat Susan had occupied amoment ago, and then we both said at the same time, “I’msorry.”
“Ishouldn’thave fucked with your class,” Istarted, lowering my voice. “It was childish and unprofessional.”
Thomas’sshoulders relaxed. “That really was, but I’mall forforgive and forgetas long as it doesn’thappen again.”
“Is that another rule?”
He sighed alaugh, “No, no. I’mdone with the rules. Iguess Ijust, Ireally need structure. Amature, professional working relationship. Iwon’tscream and threaten you if you don’tblitz attack me with Frida Kahlo. Deal?”
“Yeah, deal.” Ioffered him my hand and we shook on it.
“And of course, my apology,” he added before Icould say anything. “Isaw you crying two days ago and Istill yelled, and Iapologize. Ishould’ve handled it better.”
“Iunderstand.” Ipicked on awhite piece of lint on my long skirt. “That was acrappy thing of me to do.”
“Want to tell me what made you cry yesterday?”
Thomas’squestion added another item to the list of things he surprised me with. Iwelcomed his apology, not his sudden interest in my personal life.
As Isat there, content with the positive turn our working relationship was taking, Irealized Icould really use the outlet. While Italked to my mom and Laura about basically everything, Ikept Greg’sderogatory phone call asecret from them. They worried for me and hearing what he said would upset the two women Iloved the most in the world.
Thomas, however, wouldn’ttake it to heart; he wouldn’tlose sleep over it, and Ihad ahunch he wasn’tthe gossiping type either.
And Iso desperately needed the outlet.
“Would it be okay if we talked about it someplace else?”
