Get your shit together, Amelia.
I grab my coffee mug and take a sip, then toss a handful of gummy bears into my mouth, the sugar soothing me as I keep my eyes fixed on the whiteboard behind Elliot. Fuck, behind Dr. Wyles. In here, he’s Dr. Wyles. Not the hot guy from the plane I haven’t been able to stop thinking about for months. I knew he would be teaching this class. I was prepared to see him again. Except it turns out I wasn’t because I’m lightheaded and it feels like electricity is sparking in my veins, and no amount of gummy bears is going to soothe that.
It’s going to be a long semester, and I’ll probably fail out of this entire program because Elliot Wyles specializes in UX design and app development, and I need him to be my advisor, but that’s going to be really fucking hard if I can’t stop staring at his ass.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I take another sip of my drink and force myself into student mode, listening to Elliot’s rich, deep voice discuss socially responsible app design. He’s engaging, funny, and completely captivating, and my pen flies across my notebook as I try to capture everything he says in my notes to revisit later. A laptop would probably be more helpful, but ironically for a coder, I work best with pen and paper. I’m a contradiction, and I mostly like it that way.
Before I know it, he’s dismissing the class, and the noise level in the room rises as everyone slides laptops into bags,gathers jackets, and shuffles out of the room and on their way to whatever comes next.
I try and join the crowd with my eyes fixed on the floor to avoid Elliot’s stare, but fate has other plans for me. Before I make it to the door, my jacket snags on a chair, and I stumble a little, my bag sliding down my shoulder and my phone tumbling to the floor.
“Shit,” I mutter. I bend to pick it up, but before I can get there, a pair of denim clad legs enters my field of vision, and Elliot is there, scooping up my phone. I take a deep breath and finally raise my gaze to his. I regret it immediately.
He has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. It was true six months ago when I saw them for the first time at airport security and it’s true today. They’re fixed so intently on me that I have the very unusual feeling of being well and truly seen.
I’m not sure if I like it. Okay, that’s a lie. I like it, but I don’t want to like it. I can’t like it.
“Mystery Girl,” is the first thing he says, a slow grin spreading over his face just like it did when I first walked into the classroom. Holy hell, that’s a dangerous smile. A smile that could make me forget that I’m here to do a thing and keep a low profile, and it’s that thought that snaps me right back intowoman on a missionmode.
“My phone, please.” I hold out my hand, and he looks down at it and back up at my face, his grin turning into a smirk.
“You’re not even going to thank me for rescuing it from the ground?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You didn’t have to do that. I’m perfectly capable of picking up my own phone.”
He studies me, tapping my phone on his open palm. “I don’t know. If I had a…” He looks down at my phone and then back up at me, brow furrowing. “Wait, is this the new Redwood phone? The one that isn’t being released for another two months? Howdid you get this? New Redwood releases are, like, the most closely guarded secret in the world.”
Fuck. So much for that low profile. I told Gabe I could wait for the newest release like everyone else, but that’s just not the way my brother operates.
“Long story,” I mutter, reaching out to grab it from his hand. He holds it up above his head, his grin returning.
“I’ll give it back to you under one condition.”
I roll my eyes. “This is the airplane seat all over again. What is it with you and making me, like, transact with you for things that already belong to me?”
He shrugs. “It seemed like a good way to get you to talk to me then, and, well, here you are, talking to me again. I like listening to you talk.”
Butterflies swarm my stomach, and I don’t love it because I absolutely cannot have butterflies for my professor. The man who holds the proverbial keys to my future. Sort of. I huff out a frustrated breath. “What do you want for it?”
He reaches forward with the hand not currently occupied holding my phone hostage and pushes a piece of hair behind my ear. My skin heats under his touch, and it’s only then I realize how close together we’re standing. My gaze flies around the room, and I’m relieved to find it empty. I still take a step back. And he smirks at me again, like he can read my mind. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s enjoying the shit out of this little interlude. Smug, gorgeous asshole.
“Coffee,” he says, his deep rumbly voice sending chills up my spine.
“What?”
“You asked what I wanted in exchange for giving you back your phone. I want coffee. With you. Right now.”
I shake my head. “I don’t drink coffee.”
He glances pointedly down at the stainless steel coffee mug in my hand. “What’s that?”
“Diet Pepsi.”
He chuckles. “You put Diet Pepsi in a coffee mug?”
I shrug. “It tastes better this way.”
