Her Dirty Teachers - Mika Lane Page 0,12

translate to a university setting.

“A student of my abilities. I’m wondering what you mean by that?” I asked, practicing all the restraint I possibly could and then some. Sure, she’d seen my transcripts, but I’d taken extra classes to get into the university. I’d been admitted because I was qualified.

She turned to her computer and typed in some notes. “You don’t seem to be the best-prepared student the university has ever seen,” she said, turning back to me with an awfully satisfied smile.

Oh, to wipe that ugliness off her face…

“What are you majoring in?” she asked to change the subject.

Fine. The bitch could change the subject. But I wasn’t going to forget her assumption.

“I’ve always loved reading, so I was thinking of majoring in English. But if you think Alder isn’t a good professor, I’ll try to switch out—”

“It’s too late for that,” she sniffed. “And English can be a difficult discipline.”

Wow. She wasn’t done with the put-downs. Incredible.

“In fact, have you considered a physical education major? Or maybe art?”

I was pretty sure phys ed and art majors would not be very happy to know her low opinion of them.

Didn’t I already have enough people telling me I couldn’t handle college? For Christ’s sake, I was twenty-one, three years older than most other freshmen. My late start was solely attributable to not believing I could handle college. But when I finally learned to silence those voices as best I could, I realized that yeah, I was smart enough to do any fucking thing I wanted to.

And since I silenced them as best I could, that meant they weren’t gone completely. They’d never be gone completely. There was always a nagging little devil sitting on my shoulder, dropping seeds of doubt.

The bastard.

And I didn’t need another doubter. I was done with this meeting.

“Thank you, Krishelle,” I said just to annoy her. I extended my hand. “I appreciate your help. And support.”

Her mouth puckered like she’d sucked a lemon, and she reluctantly took my hand, which she shook about as weakly as anyone I’d ever met. Gross. I hated a bad handshake.

I turned on my heel and as soon as I was out of her office, raced down the hall to get the hell out of the building. I hurried around the corner to ensure there was no way I could possibly run into her, and sat down on a little curb.

That’s when the hot tears began to drip down my face.

Dammit. I hated crying. I hardly ever did it. But sometimes the universe threw so much shit your way, there was just no stopping the waterworks.

I blew my nose into the bandana stuffed down the side pocket of my backpack. I never felt sorry for myself for long. It was a waste of time if you asked me.

I pushed myself to my feet to head over to the fitness center, where I was due for another thrilling two-hour shift.

“Senna?” a voice called.

I turned. I didn’t know anyone at the school yet, so who could have been calling me?

Holy shit.

“Hi, Professor Adler.”

Chapter 11

SENNA

“Well, hello, Miss Duncan. Where you headed?” he asked with a smile that made my knees weak. “Hey, I got your name right, didn’t I? I’m still learning everybody’s names.”

“Yup. Yes. That’s me.”

Damn him.

I had to get away from him. He’d seen me at Club V, and I was not comfortable with that. No freaking way. I started walking faster. As if that would help.

“Oh, um, I have a part-time job at the fitness center. I have my shift in a few minutes,” I said, nearly jogging.

“Oh cool. That’s exactly where I’m going right now. It’s my day to work out with weights.”

Great. Just great.

I forced myself to smile and slowed for him to catch up.

“Hello, Professor Adler,” some pretty girl said, passing us.

He nodded.

“How are you liking the university so far?” he asked politely.

I hated small talk. Why couldn’t he have just walked by himself?

I looked straight ahead. I didn’t need to look at his perfect bone structure marred only by a slightly off nose, messy blond hair, and glasses. I’d seen all I needed to of him the night I’d shaken my ass in his face.

Speaking of which, I wondered if I should just pull the elephant in the room into the open. Tell him I knew he’d seen me, and that I’d appreciate it if he could keep it to himself.

But I didn’t have the balls. So I pretended nothing had happened.

“It’s great. Yeah, really good,” I