Total pages in book: 17
Estimated words: 15350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15350 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 77(@200wpm)___ 61(@250wpm)___ 51(@300wpm)
“Screw the rules,” Isabel encourages from my screen. “You’ve literally never been this obsessed with a man, and it’s about time. So go get him, Em. Seriously.”
I bite my lip, considering her words.
She’s right.
Fuck it, it’s time that I started going after what I want. That’s why I’m even doing my master’s after all, to invest in myself, to turn my life into what I always dreamed of.
And Oliver?
He’s the only man that fits into those dreams.
“Maybe I will,” I say to Isabel, giving her a wink before we say goodbye. I shove my phone in my bag, hoist the heavy tote up on my shoulder, and stand quickly. Not giving myself another second to think about it, I take off in the same direction Oliver just went in.
It’s not like I’m stalking him. I’m not. I just happen to be heading to the library at the same time he’s heading to the library. That’s all.
Yeah, okay, you just keep telling yourself that.
The library is beautiful but it’s not the impressive architecture I’m looking at. Instead of searching the collection for a textbook, I’m searching around the stacks for my professor.
I find him in the far corner at a small table, laptop open in front of him. I approach as casually as I can muster, and catch a small glimpse at the art on his computer screen before he notices me and shuts the browser quickly.
“Emma,” he says, surprise in his voice and eyes.
I smile, shuffling my feet a little. “Oh, hi,” I say, as though I had no idea he was going to be here. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I, a professor who works here, doing in the library on campus?” Oliver repeats, amused.
I blush, internally cursing myself for being so awkward. I open my mouth to say something, anything, to try and salvage this, but Oliver beats me to it.
“Want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the seat across from him.
I sit immediately, nearly toppling the chair over in my eagerness. Oliver chuckles, but there’s a fondness in his eyes as he does. I blush still, both at my clumsiness and under his attention.
I take my laptop out and open it, forgetting what I had been searching for last time I used it.
“Researching for your first project all ready?” Oliver asks, leaning over to glance at my screen. I can’t move fast enough to close my search before he sees, and in the split second where Oliver’s eyes widen I genuinely consider finding a book on witchcraft and summoning a black hole I can jump into.
I slam my laptop closed, heart in my throat, and glance at Oliver.
“Research, huh?” he murmurs, still leaning close to me despite there being nothing to look at. Scratch that. Apparently I am the something to look at because Oliver’s stormy eyes are locked on me, and I can’t help but squeeze my thighs together in response as all the fantasies that have been swirling through my mind come back full force.
Then I remember he’s just seen his own Instagram page and a window with my search for student professor dating policy open on my laptop and I feel my face burn up for the millionth time this week.
“Yup,” I croak out, using the entirety of my concentration to remember how to form words. “Just research. For a project.” Shit, that doesn’t make sense. “Uh, a personal project.” Yeah, personal, all right.
“I see,” Oliver says, his voice teasing as a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Well, I have a class to teach, but I’ll see you later. Good luck with your project, Emma.”
I wave goodbye, knowing that the way he said my name will absolutely be featuring in my dreams tonight.
“Have you got Professor Hotty’s class today?” Isabel asks as I stroll in the coffee shop on campus.
“First thing,” I answer with a grin. “So just pray I don’t embarrass myself yet again, yeah?”
“I don’t know, going by what you told me, he doesn’t mind your attention,” Isabel says with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “And don’t think I can’t see the extra effort you put in today. Your boobs look great in that top.”
I can’t even deny the fact that I wore this on purpose for that exact reason. I know I shouldn’t be flirting with my professor, but the fact that it’s forbidden only makes it even more tempting.
“I just wish I knew if he even sees me that way,” I say, joining the back of the queue and trying to keep my voice down. I don’t think anybody’s listening in, though—everyone around me is involved in their own conversations or work. “I wish it was allowed, for us to be together, you know?”
“I know, babe, but just because its not technically allowed doesn’t mean it won’t happen,” she says.