Her Dirty Teachers - Mika Lane Page 0,19

a dull voice.

There was no point in trying to make small talk with her, so I got to the meat of why I’d called.

“Mom, do you need any money?”

Yeah, I helped support the one person in my life who’d probably treated me the shittiest. It didn’t make much sense. But there it was.

She’d been a normal mom until my dad was murdered. Then she completely and totally lost it, getting worse as the months and years passed, while taking it out on me.

She was the first person who told me I could never handle college. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the last.

But that was okay. The naysayers fueled my fire. I wasn’t going to let them do anything but.

She perked up at the word ‘money,’ like she always did. I didn’t send her much—it’s not like I was loaded, for heaven’s sake—but I did feel compelled to help her out of some bizarre familial obligation.

“Yeah. I guess I could use some cash. Hey, you still making a living as a slut? In that club?”

Really?

Who the fuck gets offered money and then proceeds to fling the most vile insults possible to that very person?

My mom, that’s who.

“I’ll transfer some money into your account, Mom.”

“Okay, baby. Thanks.” And she hung up.

It was as if she’d already forgotten her ugly words. Or maybe she didn’t think they were ugly to begin with.

It had taken me all day to shake that shit off.

It was my turn to get onstage. I’d had the DJ queue up I Love Rock ’n Roll by Joan Jett, and asked him to blast it as loud as he could.

It was the best way I could get lost and forget any of the stupid shit swirling around me.

Chapter 16

SENNA

I decided to give studying in the library a try. It didn’t make sense to me why anyone would prefer that over the peace and quiet of their own place, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything.

It quickly became obvious why the library was a popular hangout. Turned out, for most people, it wasn’t about studying.

Sure, there were plenty of people with their noses buried in their books, highlighting, underlining, and taking notes. But the majority seemed to be flitting around, socializing, flirting, and just generally doing anything but studying.

Mystery solved.

So, naturally, I was doing my own looking around, trying to understand this thing called ‘college life,’ and all its strange customs.

Like, what was the deal with that horrendous fraternity party Godiva and I had been to? It was nothing more than an excuse to drink warm beer and hook up—not that there was anything wrong with that. But it seemed like a silly dance of will he or won’t he, with the majority of women standing around in gaggles, pretending to be enjoying each other’s company but really surveying the room to determine which guy was going to hit on them next.

I’d hoped the library would make more sense, but as I accepted the fact that I was not going to get any work done there, I returned my things to my backpack.

That’s when I spotted Professor Adler at the checkout desk.

Holy crap. I hesitated for a moment, then decided to say hello. Why not? He’d been super nice in his office and hadn’t mentioned a thing about my dancing.

“Hi, Professor,” I said, approaching him.

His eyes widened in surprise. What? He didn’t think go-go dancers studied in libraries?

“Why, Senna. Hello,” he said, the surprise fading and turning into an adorable, dimpled smile.

Then he took his glasses off and damn if he didn’t barely look older than most of the students.

Ugh. What was I doing?

“Thank you again for helping me think through my paper on Maugham. I’m pretty psyched to learn more about him. Sounds like a complicated guy.”

“He sure is, Senna,” Adler said, stuffing a couple books in his satchel. “Hey, want to go get a coffee? I have hours of work ahead of me and feel like I could nod off right here, right now. I need a pick-me-up.”

Holy shit. Coffee? Adler and me?

“Um, sure,” I spat out before I could think of a reason to say no.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting on an old, lumpy sofa in a super-cool coffee shop just off campus.

“I shouldn’t have coffee this late. It’s going to keep me up all night. But what are you gonna do?” He added another sugar to his black brew.

“Why do you drink it then?” I asked, blowing on my boiling hot tea.

He shook his head.