Wrecked Book 2 (2 page)

“
Look,
”
I began, looking back towards the classroom. I could see in through the small door window that most of the seats were filled and that the professor was writing something on the board. I had a few minutes before class started. Was I really going to be late for this?
“
What happened yesterday
…
I just had a lot going on. You shouldn
’
t look too much into it. I
’
m sorry I freaked out on you, but that
’
s all it was. It
’
s done, I
’
ve moved on, you will, too. Now, if you
’
ll excuse me, I have to get to class.
”

I waited for his arm to drop so that I could go inside, but it didn
’
t. I saw the well-defined muscles in his arm tighten and strain with an effort that told me he had no intention of moving.

“
Give me a chance,
”
he said, and though I wasn
’
t looking at him now, I could hear the seriousness in his voice and imagined that same serious expression from outside my apartment.

I shook my head and sighed.
“
For what?
”
I muttered, starting to feel exasperated.

“
To prove that I
’
m the kind of guy for you,
”
he answered me, just as serious.

I didn
’
t say anything. Why was this so
important
to him? I was just some girl
…
was this about being a challenge? About being the girl who said no, when every other girl was begging for a yes? Was this because of the kiss?

Had I somehow won a guy over with one little kiss?

My fingers hooked into his belt loops and pulled him even closer to me, his hips slamming hard against mine and I could tell he wanted this.

Okay, maybe it wasn
’
t just some little kiss. It had been awfully physical and demanding for a kiss, all kinds of hot and heavy, but
…
but then why hadn
’
t his hands gone to my body like mine had gone to his?

I shook my head.
“
I
’
ve got class
—”

“
Fine,
”
he said, his voice a little harsh. He didn
’
t move his arm right away though. He added,
“
Go to class. But tonight, meet me outside Old Main. Seven o
’
clock.
”

When his arm dropped right after that, I moved quickly past him, opening the door and stepping into class just before it officially started. As the door closed behind me, I heard him call,
“
Give me a chance, Addy.
”

But I
’
ve already made up my mind. I can
’
t.

I spent the next three hours thinking of Logan. His words rattled around in my brain, taunting me.
Give me a chance, Addy
. But what was I giving him a chance for? A repeat performance of that disaster in the hallway? Or maybe something more than that. Maybe he was hoping to get lucky.

Although I tried to ignore the feeling, my heart plummeted at the thought. I had decided he was bad news, that I was going to stay as far away from him as possible
—
I
had
to with Miranda coming
—
but somehow, he
’
d managed to wriggle his way into my mind and heart.

And I wanted to believe that him wanting to meet with me tonight was not about getting laid.

Shaking my head, I decided that this was not what I needed to be thinking about. I gathered up my things and shoved them into my book bag as class ended. It was lunch time and the thought of facing my friends makes me feel a little nauseous. I haven
’
t spoken to Mason since yesterday and I
’
m sure my random outburst at him, not to mention dragging him out of class after making a scene, was going to leave him with a lot of questions he wanted to ask.

Questions that would ultimately come back to Logan, and I was not going to talk about him with
anyone
and certainly not Mason.

Luckily, when Kass texted me and asked if I wanted to save her a seat, I had a perfectly legitimate excuse for why I was telling her no. I had to meet with Professor Keith about my Ethics essay due next week. Although I would have class with him later that night and could just as easily ask him then, I had set up a meeting with him specially so that I didn
’
t waste anyone
’
s time.

I was relieved now that I had been so proactive. It was getting me out of the potentially awkward position I would be in at the lunch table today.

Professor Keith
’
s office was in the Business building on the third floor. I
’
d been there a handful of times already, sometimes for things required by him for the class
—
at the beginning of the term everyone had to meet with him to discuss what they thought this class really was about
—
and sometimes just because I was being hands on and invested.

It was hard not to be in his class. He was a younger professor, maybe in his late thirties, and still understood things relevant to his students. He also happened to be incredibly smart, and unlike most of his colleagues, wasn
’
t a complete bore.

And if that wasn
’
t enough to convince someone that he was the professor to have, he was also very attractive. He had sandy brown hair and warm brown eyes and a body that no professor should have been allowed to have. The female half of the class all sat up front, but I
’
m not sure how much they actually learned. They were too busy staring at him with hearts in their eyes.

Although I could see why, I didn
’
t think of him as attractive enough to get a low grade over. Although plenty of girls had tried to flirt with him and get his attention, he seemed pretty far and unfazed by their advances.

It made me respect him and also meant that when I went to his office, like now, I didn
’
t feel as though I was walking into a potentially dangerous situation. I didn
’
t need something like a teacher-student relationship on my permanent record. It didn
’
t do a lot for the classy image I was working so hard for.

Professor Keith was in his office waiting for me when I knocked. He told me to come in, so I did. He was seated behind his desk, wearing a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a patterned tie that his wife likely picked out for him.

“
Miss Trent, there you are,
”
he said brightly with a smile that showed dimples and small wrinkles that said he smiled a lot.
“
Please, have a seat.
”

I did so gracefully, sitting on the chair opposite his desk.
“
Thanks for meeting with me, Professor Keith.
”

He waved off my thanks modestly.
“
Of course. I
’
m happy that I actually have a student who
’
s showing some interest. I can
’
t help but think half of my students don
’
t even know what
’
s going on.
”

I laughed. Oh, if only he knew how true that was. Or how many of the students were taking the class only because they thought he was a hot teacher.

Pulling out some papers, he shuffled them and looked them over. I had the sneaking suspicion that they were previous papers that I
’
d turned into him, or at least the topics.
“
Now, Miss Trent,
”
he began, skimming over the papers until he found the one he wanted.
“
Have you given much thought to your topic yet?
”

I nodded.
“
I was thinking of taking some of the fortune five hundred companies and looking at their business models, then comparing to see which ones are similar. From there, go through old lawsuits against them in order to see if similar models end up with similar lawsuits, because ultimately their breaking the same rules. Furthermore, I wanted to focus on if those lawsuits are really ethical points, or just cheap tricks to get money out of the companies.
”

Professor Keith nodded his head, as I spoke, taking down a few notes.
“
I see. Very interesting, Miss Trent. I think that sounds like an excellent idea, but I
’
m concerned it
’
s a little too broad. That
’
s a lot of research for a mid-level paper, and I
’
m concerned that you
’
re going to burn yourself out before you get to the end of the semester.
”

My enthusiasm dropped marginally. Although this was why I had come to his office
—
for advice
—
I had really been hoping that he would just tell me that the topic was brilliant and give me the green light to start on it.

The fact that he was thinking it was too much work for me wasn
’
t very encouraging.

Before I dropped into total despair, however, he added,
“
I think you should hold off on this one until the end of the semester. We
’
ll be having a final paper instead of a test, as you know, and I think something of this caliber is more deserving as a final essay.
”

I perked up at that. So he meant that this essay was
too
good for right now.
“
So I should put this on a shelf and come up with something else this time around?
”

He nodded his head, smiling at me.
“
Exactly. Go ahead and keep this one in mind, but given how much research you
’
re going to have to muddle through, I think you
’
ll need the rest of this semester to really nail this essay. So if you intend to keep this topic, save it for the end of the class. That way, you can research as we progress and hopefully I can offer up some sources for you to delve into along the way.
”

“
That sounds perfect,
”
I told him, smiling brightly.
“
But then, what should I do for this one?
”

He scratched his chin, thinking it over.
“
Well, I think you need to sit down and think a little smaller. You
’
re a bright girl and very passionate and determined about learning. I like that and think those are commendable qualities in a student; however, I feel as though maybe sometimes you
’
re too busy looking at the bigger picture. You
’
re thinking about
too
many things. For this one, I want you to pick a narrow, highly specific topic to work from. If the essay evolves from there, fine,
”
he spread his hands to indicate that he didn
’
t care if that happened.
“
But I want you to start small. Think micro, not macro.
”

I nodded my head.
Micro, not macro.
“
Okay, Professor.
”

He offered me another smile.
“
Good, good. I
’
ve got a few ideas here that you can look over for inspiration, but don
’
t worry if you don
’
t pick a topic today. You
’
ve got time to come up with something and you
’
re welcome to e-mail me or come in to see me any time.
”

I nodded again.

We spent the rest of my lunch hour going over potential topics for my essay and by the time I left, I had several promising ones. I was going to pick one when I got home and start doing some research, thinking that since I was now a little behind given my too broad original topic, I needed to spend a little more time working on it.

It also gave me a very legitimate excuse to avoid any get togethers with friends
and
meeting with Logan that night.