The Professor - Kelli Callahan Page 0,8

face twisting into a severe scowl. “Just stay away from me, Professor Marshall. It will be in your best interest if you do.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, you’ll find out and you’ll be thankful. Okay? A girl like me and a guy like you, we don’t make sense. And now you’re a professor here? Come on, Bry— Professor Marshall. Think about this.”

I hate that she corrects herself. I love the way my name sounds on her lips.

“Don’t you think I deserve to make the decision for myself?” I ask her as I study the brown beanie, which is so ugly, but the color brings out the blue in her eyes, so I’m learning to love it quickly.

“No. I promise. I’m doing you a favor, Professor Marshall.”

“Stop calling me that,” I say, keeping the level of my voice low so other students can’t hear me.

“Why? That is who you are. That is who you are to me. You’re my professor. That’s all.”

“That is not all,” I hiss.

She turns to walk away, but I hurry in front of her path and cut her off. “Profess—”

“No. Don’t. I can’t believe you’re here.” I run my hand through my hair, then rub my palm down my face. “You can’t say you aren’t stunned.”

“Oh, I’m stunned stupid,” she mumbles. “The chances of this…” She shakes her head and her brown hair dances over her shoulders. “Out of all the places you could be. You’re here. I wanted to be Jessica in Mexico. That’s it. Okay? I’m a memory.”

“You are someone I have not been able to forget. Tell me you haven’t thought of me, of us, every second since you’ve been back from vacation. Tell me you haven’t…” I invade her space until I can smell the lingering coffee on her breath. I want to taste. “Tell me you haven’t dreamed of me and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

She doesn’t say anything. She keeps her eyes focused over my shoulder, and I see the blue irises turn glassy with tears.

“That’s what I thought.”

“We can’t,” she whispers again.

“If you switch classes then we don’t have to worry about it.”

She inhales a deep breath, and I thought she’d be relieved, but a tear falls down her cheek instead. “You’ll find out soon enough. You’ll hear why we can never be together. People like you, people like me, we don’t mix. Sure, in another world, in another place like Mexico is fine because no one knows us there. The only thing we can ever be is a vacation.”

“Bullshit, Jessi—Abigale,” I correct myself.

She shoves her backpack strap up her shoulder and backs away from me. “Goodbye,” she says,

I watch, stunned, as she marches off, head bowed. She gives me one last troubled look over her shoulder before yanking that god awful beanie she’s wearing down some more. I throw my arms out and let out a laugh.

She’s right. What are the fucking chances of this? There is no way in hell this is an accident. This is fate.

But her stubbornness is going to get in the way of that.

This isn’t the end.

She’s my Mexico. A chance of living in a vacation forever.

I’m not going to give up.

Wrong side of the tracks or not.

Student or not.

I know I’m going to chase the hell of her until she is mine.

Chapter Three

Abby

I barely managed to make it through the rest of my classes after being rattled to the core from seeing Bryce. As if him being my teacher isn’t enough, I did a quick search of Bryce Marshall and discovered even more disturbing facts. It was the surname that triggered alarm bells. As it turns out, my Bryce from Cancun, Professor Marshall, is no other than the mayor’s son.

I’d laughed hysterically in a bathroom stall at the thought of a Knight and the filthy rich prince of Oak Valley being together. The thought still makes me want to dissolve into hysterical chuckles and then cry, because I still want him so bad.

Groaning, I bang my head repeatedly against the column of lockers in the employee’s lounge. My shift at the diner starts in five minutes. I need to get my shit together. Maybe if I hit my head hard enough, I’ll shake my attraction to Bryce out of it along with the hot memories I have of him.

“Do I even want to know?”

I stop abusing my poor forehead to glance at Charlie, who just walked through the door. She’s tying her apron around her waist, over the short royal