“That’s Travis Brandon.”
“So.”
“He’s only the greatest college quarterback in the history of football.”
“Seriously?” My eyes were getting a workout today with all the rolling they were doing. “How would you even know that? You don’t watch football.”
“I don’t. But I watch him. Everyone does. Holy shit! He’s coming this way.”
“This seat taken?” Travis stood next to the empty seat beside Greg. The lights overhead casted a glow over his golden locks. Greg was speechless.
Well, that was a first. He’d never been at a loss for words. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Red and Gianna shoving, trying to push each other out of their seat to make space for the university’s star quarterback.
Nice friendship they had going on there.
“Nope. All yours,” I said, answering for a flabbergasted Greg.
“I’m Travis. Travis Brandon.”
Greg stared at his extended hand as if he’d never seen one before.
“I’m Nicole and this is my friend, Greg.” I elbowed him.
“You’re Travis Brandon,” he said.
“Yeah, I just said that.” Travis looked at him curiously and then turned his attention to me. “So, I hear this Professor Cooper is a real hard ass.”
He leaned over his desk. Brown eyes drifted down to my chest and then back up to meet my eyes again.
I hated it when guys did that. I could give him the benefit of the doubt that he was checking out my cool coffee stains, but nope, he was doing it again, eyes on boobs.
“Then why are you taking the class?” I snapped.
His eyes flicked up. “It’s the last one I need before graduation, and it’s the only one that didn’t interfere with football practice.”
“So glad to hear you have your priorities straight.”
Greg turned to me, his eyes bulging.
“What?”
“Opstay eingbay osay uderay,” he said, gritting his teeth with a fake smile. He was just like a professional ventriloquist. The man had talent and an obvious man crush on Travis.
“Papers and pencils out,” a harsh voiced echoed loudly in the auditorium.
The door at the front of the room slammed shut as the professor marched to the lectern. And as soon as I saw his face, I died.
Mr. Butthead in all his sexy butthead glory glared from behind the lectern.
Aww, crap! Mr. Butthead was Professor Butthead. My professor.
“In a couple of minutes, you’ll be taking a quiz. I demand excellence in this course. I anticipate half of you will drop out by the end of the day and another third will give up by the end of the week. Due to your inadequate high school preparation, this quiz will allow me to assess how far I have to lower my expectations.”
Students jumped in their seats when he slammed his briefcase onto the lectern. As he rifled through his briefcase, pulling out a stack of papers, I noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead. It was way too hot to be wearing a sports jacket. When he lifted his arm to wipe his brow, a brown coffee stain peeked from under the buttoned coat.
“I’m screwed.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll do fine,” Greg said.
“Oh, uh, yeah, the quiz.” I was less worried about the quiz and more worried that Professor Cooper would notice me. I sank down low in my seat. It was my fault that he was late. And he looked royally pissed.
Professor Cooper looked up and scanned the auditorium. Students stared back at him as if they had no clue what he was talking about. They were probably still in shock.
“Do you need an invitation? Papers. Pencils. Now!”
There was a flurry of movement as students scrambled to get their materials together. I guess they thought that since it was the first day of class, he would take it easy. Most professors called out roll, went over the syllabus, and called it a day.
“Hey, man, you got a pencil?” Travis whispered to Greg.
“Yeah, sure.” Greg, suddenly finding his voice and looking way too eager to be helpful, searched frantically for another pencil. He took one look at me and tugged at my bun.
“Hey!”
“There will be silence during the exam.”
Professor Cooper’s voice sounded way too close. Gulping, I slowly looked up and there he was, with a stack of quizzes in his hand, sapphire eyes blazing.
Shit! He recognized me.
“Do you think you can handle that, Ms...?”
“Ashford,” I squeaked.
“Ms. Ashford. Please remove your sunglasses. Cheating will not be tolerated in this class.”
“I don’t . . . uh, yes, sir, Professor, sir, Cooper,” I stammered as I fumbled to take off my glasses. As soon as I had them off, I gazed back up at him.
His blue eyes widened as they locked with mine. In that moment, his entire face shifted. The hard glint was gone.
Images and sounds flashed through my mind again: a disco ball, skates, puffy white clouds, and a little girl laughing. A mixture of feelings coursed through me: confusion, happiness, grief.
I held onto my desk, dizzy with sensory overload. I tried to look away, to run out of the classroom. I was falling apart. But I couldn’t look away. Something was pulling me, holding me to him like gravity.
“Nicole,” he breathed.
I blinked, confused at the sudden surge of euphoria as he said my name. What was going on? Why couldn’t I look away? How did he know my name?
“Yes, professor?”
As if coming out of a dream, the soft expression vanished and the hard glint returned. “Try not to spill anything on these.”
He dropped the quiz onto my lap.
Chapter Five
What the hell was I looking at?
I rotated the paper, hoping that something resembling English would magically appear. There were all these squiggly marks swirling on the page. I had no idea what they were or what they meant.
I bit down on my pencil, feeling sweat bead on my forehead, even in the cold room. There was nothing like the clock ticking to remind me I had forty-five minutes to get my head out of my ass or fail my first ever college exam. Talk about pressure.
Squaring my shoulders, I studied the first question. I wasn’t going to let my freaky-deaky hallucinations get in my way. It was obvious that the stress of starting my first college class was getting to me, and I wasn’t going to let it. What was I thinking? That Professor Cooper somehow magically knew my name? He had the class roster, and I’d told him my last name. Duh!
It hadn’t even been five minutes when a handful of students crumpled their quizzes and left. Even Greg seemed to have a problem. His face was all scrunched in deep concentration and he kept erasing his answers.
Travis seemed to be having a little too much fun. He was chuckling to himself, his dimples flashing when he laughed. I leaned a little to try to get a better look at what he was scribbling. It was a figure drawing of Professor Cooper with devil’s horns and a goatee.
Travis looked up at me and winked.
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t have time for high school pranks.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Ashford?”
I jumped in my seat. Chairs squeaked in the silent auditorium as a dozen pairs of eyes turned to me.
“Uh . . . no, sir.”
“Then might I suggest you use your time wisely and keep your eyes on your own paper.”
Kill me now.
“Yes, sir.”
Tears stung my eyes. I was so embarrassed. My eyes flicked to Greg.
“You can do this,” he mouthed.
I nodded. He was right. I wasn’t going to let Professor McGrouchy get to me. I took a deep breath and tackled the first problem.
What is the chemical formula of ammonium sulfate, and what is its molecular weight?