Killer lets out a littleyipand I laugh when her tiny tongue pokes out and licks my hand. “I know; I love Cece too. Catch you later, Killer girl.”
Grabbing my jacket and briefcase from the closet, I head out the door for the first day of school.
An hour later I’m leaning a hip against the desk at the front of a classroom, glancing over my notes as students start to file in. Every now and then, one of them tosses out a “good morning Dr. Wyles,” and the room has that first day of school fresh start air Jo was talking about this morning.
I love teaching. I don’t love all the politics andpublish or perishof academia, but it’s a small price to pay for getting to do the thing I love, which is basically just to geek out over computers with a bunch of PhD students.
Glancing at the clock, I push up off the desk and look around the room, smiling at the familiar faces. “Good morning. I think I know all of you, so I’ll dispense with the formalities and just say, welcome to Design, Technology, and Social Impact. This semester we’re going to…”
My words trail off when, for a second time this morning, a door flies open right in front of me and a woman rushes in muttering apologies, brown hair flying. I’m about to tell her to find a seat and not to worry about it but when I open my mouth, no sounds come out.
It’s the smell that hits me first.
Sunshine in the spring.
Then those gold and green flecked eyes meet mine.
My stomach bottoms out and just like that morning at airport security, my feet glue themselves to the floor, and I can’t do anything but stare.
Because it’s her. Amelia. Mystery girl from the plane. Standing in my classroom, tote bag slung over her shoulder, gorgeous flush crawling up her face as her gaze stays locked on mine.
The room is silent. No one else exists but her and me and the string I can feel but I can’t see tugging us towards each other.
Holy. Fuck.
She’s here.
No one gets this lucky.
I grin at her, opening my mouth to say…I have no idea what. Probably something likeI’ve been looking for you. Or,Why didn’t you wait for me at baggage claim? Or,I think you’re my soulmate. Or, at the very least,Hi, you’re gorgeous.
All very normal things to say to one of your students.
It’s probably better for all parties involved that she beats me to it.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Professor Wyles. Parking was a nightmare. I swear it won’t happen again.” The smile she gives me is tight at the edges and the raspy voice of my dreams is professional and clipped. My smile drops a fraction, but the glow inside of me never dims. Because for the first time in six months, I know where my mystery girl is and she’s right here. And right here is the best place. I can work with right here.
I reach for professional teacher mode now. There’s time for everything else later.
“No worries; Cambridge can be a disaster in the morning. Find a seat. We’ve barely even started.”
She scans the room for an empty seat and slides into one in the second row. And I teach the class, my eyes on her the entire time.
CHAPTER FOUR
AMELIA
This is fine. Totally fine. Everything is fine.
It’s not like I showed up late to my very first class as a PhD student in the most prestigious computer science program in the country because I got so wrapped up in the true crime podcast I was listening to that I lost track of time.
And it’s not like Elliot Wyles—Dr. Elliot Wyles, my professor who I need to agree to be my advisor—is looking at me like he wants to devour me whole while he talks about analyzing the values inherent in technology design and designing technologies to promote social impact.
And it’s not like I zone out completely when I notice the way his jeans stretch over his muscular thighs and the most amazing ass I’ve ever seen. Or the way his sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up over the hottest forearms on the planet. Forearms I’ve thought about, conservatively, one hundred times a day since I left him standing in the airport six months ago.
It’s not like any of that is happening because all of that is not going to help me get my PhD in computer science with a focus on UI/UX design, which is my dream.
Okay, so it’s not exactly my dream, but it is a thing I’m doing, and I want to do it well. Doing it well involves paying attention in class and not drooling over the man living rent free in my head.
