Page 10 of Give In
After the tipless dance on Friday, I’d expected to see him on Saturday. When the night came and went with no silent professor, I’d been relieved. Grateful for the money he’d given me. A little disappointed because of my established patheticness. But overall?
Relieved.
His point had been made.
He knew who I was, I knew who he was, we both had a lot to lose.
It was time to move on.
As I glanced down at the money, I realized how wrong I’d been.
To hell with him and his stupid power trip.
Carefully blanking my expression, I gave him nothing. No reaction. Not a single eye twitch. Full-on Stepford student, I was practically a robot as I put the envelope into my bag.
With my concentration on pretending I wasn’t internally seething, I jumped when a heavy backpack slammed to the floor.
One of the guys who usually sat on the other side of the room plopped down next to me and opened his laptop. “Hey, what’d we do Friday?”
“A lecture and discussion about different types of separatism throughout history and globally.”
“Can I get a copy of your notes?”
“Sure, I’ll email them.”
“Thanks. Brooks.” He held out his hand. “I mean, my name is Brooks.” A sheepish smile crossed his face.
It was cute.
Hewas cute, in a college-kid-frat-boy kind of way.
A little over six feet, he was all lean muscle. His dark-blond hair was artfully disheveled, and he kept pushing it away from his hazel eyes.
I laughed and took his hand. “I knew what you meant. I’m Eden.”
“I know. I mean, not in a creeper way. I just saw something with your name on it when I was talking to Caine once.”
“Oh.” Unsure what to say to that, I muttered, “Cool.”
He didn’t seem fazed by my lackluster social skills. “Did we get our papers back?”
Unfortunately.
I nodded.
“I’m gonna see if I can grab mine from Caine before class starts. When I get back, I’ll give you my email.” Standing, he paused before hastily adding, “For the notes.”
“Okay.” I smiled up at him.
He returned my smile but didn’t move.
Raising my brows, I tilted my head. “You better go, he’ll probably be starting soon.”
“Right. I’ll be right back.”
I wasn’t stupid or naïve. Sinners didn’t hire ugly girls as dancers. The owners weren’t mean, but when their money was made based on how girls looked, they couldn’t hire based on more worthy attributes. The world was shallow and ugly in its focus on beauty. But it was what it was.
I knew I was attractive. My wholesomeness was appealing to some, and I had a good smile.
