“Yes, Rachel?” Matt says, raising his eyebrows.
I look from Matt to Victor, my cheeks burning.
“Um, Dr. Conlon, I need to… um… talk to you about the exam…” I stammer.
Victor looks over his shoulder at Dr. Conlon then back at me with a sneer. He probably assumes I failed too. “Good luck,” he mutters. “He was a total asshole about the whole thing.”
I close the door behind me. Sometimes Matt scolds me when I risk visiting him, but today, he limps over to me right away. He leans in close like he’s going to kiss me, but instead he murmurs in my ear, “Did he seem high to you?”
It’s the last thing I expect him to say. “Uh, how would I know?”
“His pupils looked huge to me, like he’s on amphetamines.” He rubs his left temple with his fingers. “Or maybe I’m just imagining it.”
“Victor is always sort of that way.”
“Is he?”
He looks relieved by this answer. I don’t know how I ever could have thought he was responsible for distributing drugs to the students. I can’t imagine a less likely candidate.
But he’s right about one thing:
Victor looked high as a kite.
When I getout of Matt’s office, I am weak at the knees. I always thought that was a dumb expression used in romance novels, but I literally feel like I can’t stand up, that my legs won’t support me. I don’t know how he always does this to me. All he has to do is touch me, and my whole body tingles. Another romance cliché, but it’s true.
I’m shutting the door to his office when I turn and see another person headed toward me. For a fleeting second, I pray that it’s a janitor or someone along those lines. No such luck.
I immediately recognize the face of my classmate, Danielle Stern. There are worse people who could have seen me, but this still is not good. Obviously. And I’m certain she knows that I came out of his office.
I play it off, trying to act casual about the whole thing. After all, I haven’t done anything wrong. All I’ve done is come out of my professor’s office. Is there alawagainst that?
Danielle isn’t a friend or anything, so I acknowledge her with a quick nod, and she does the same to me. Except why is she staring at me? Maybe I’m being paranoid, but Danielle’s eyes are directed right at my chest like laser beams.
I look to where Danielle is staring. And that’s when I notice, to my horror, that my shirt is buttoned all wrong. Wrong enough that it seems very unlikely that I could’ve been walking around like that all day.
Christ, why did I have to wear a shirt with buttons? Why didn’t I wear a T-shirt like I do most days?
Well, at least my fly is still zipped.
Danielle shakes her head at me in disgust as she walks past me. I want to run after her and try to explain, but I have a feelingI’d just make things worse. I’m not exactly good at talking to people. I don’t know what she’s thinking, and I don’t want to put ideas in her head.
I look back at the door, wondering if I should tell Matt what just happened. Then I decide against it. He’s got enough to worry about as it is.
45
Whenever Matt callsme at home, I’m worried about Heather overhearing. If she’s in the room with me, I press my cell phone tightly against my ear so that there’s no chance of my professor’s voice being heard and recognized. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I’m pretty sure you can’t be too cautious when you’re screwing the professor.
“Hey, Rach,” Matt says. “Do you feel like coming over and doing some studying?”
Half the time, when he says that, he means sex. The other half of the time, he means studying. I can never tell by his voice which is which.
“Sure,” I agree.
I close my anatomy text, get up off my bed, and pull my coat off the chair in front of my desk. Heather raises her light-brown eyebrows.
“Where are you headed?” she asks.
“Nowhere,” I mutter.
