I'm nearly a popsicle by the time I arrive, but I make it with seconds to spare.
"Emmalyn, a word?" Sterling words it as a question, but his tone tells me it's a command.
"What's up?"
He glares at my exposed shoulders as if they personally offend him. "Where are your clothes?"
"Um. I'm wearing them."
"No. You're not. You have on glorified pajamas." He notices the hoodie tied around my waist. "Put your jacket on."
"No can do."
"Why?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"Your girlfriend spilled coffee on me."
"My what? I don't have a girlfriend. What are you talking about?"
"Melanie."
Sterling pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales slowly. "Don't move." He bends down and riffles through the bag at his feet. "Put this on."
"What?"
He shoves the shirt, one of his shirts, into my hands. "Put this on."
"Why?"
"Emmalyn, don't test my patience. Put on the goddamn shirt and take a seat so we can get started. You're holding up the start of class."
Anger, disbelief, and embarrassment burn my cheeks, but I shrug the button-down on all the same.
Immediately, his scent surrounds me, making me want to inhale deeply and hold my breath all at once.
The implications of our little spat don't really hit me until I turn around to find a desk only to find the entire class gaping at me. Well, except for Summer–she's glaring daggers.
I duck my head and rush to an open seat, sliding my laptop from my bag, determined to ignore the whispers. But Summer isn't content to be ignored. "I heard she's sleeping with him for an A, but after they fucked, he told her the best he could do was a C."
My eyes fill with tears, but I don't speak up in my defense. If high school taught me anything, it's that giving them a reaction, any kind of reaction, only makes it worse.
Apparently, Sterling's never learned this lesson. "Miss Winters, my desk."
Yes, her name is Summer Winters. I’m completely not surprised.
Summer saunters his way, her hips swaying like a pendulum. He crooks his finger, beckoning her closer.
Something akin to jealousy curls in my gut, but I squash it down. Sterling's free to talk to whomever. He's not mine. Hell, we're hardly even friends. I need to get a grip. Up until this week, he's been a grade-A asshole.
But still, I'm positively green over their nearness. It’s in this moment of weakness that I completely cave. As discreetly as possible, I turn my head into my shoulder, pressing my nose into the fabric of his shirt.
Sterling and Summer keep their tones low and their exchange private, but judging from the frown on her face when she turns around, things didn’t go in her favor.
She stalks back to her desk, snatches up her bag, and then leaves the classroom altogether, slamming the door in her wake.
"Now that that's over, let's talk more about the four components of social perceptions and how they affect human behavior. Observation provides the primary data of social perception. It's a compound of three sources: persons, situations, and behavior."
As he begins to lecture, I force myself to focus on his words and not the delicious all-male scent surrounding me. Eventually, I get in the groove and my pen flies over my page as I write down every word that leaves his mouth.
His ability to give life to the subject matter is a skill none of my other professors seems to possess. I'm not sure if it's his age, or a passion for the topic at hand, but he teaches in a way that makes you want to learn.
Before I know it, everyone around me is packing up to leave.
Sterling calls my name as I slide my laptop into my bag. I glance his way and he crooks his index finger, beckoning me toward him.
I stand from my desk, and bend to retrieve my messenger bag from the floor. As I straighten, I glance over my shoulder at Sterling, only to find his eyes glued to my ass.
I expect him to look away now that he's been caught. But if anything, he grows bolder, dragging his eyes over every square inch of me.
"See something interesting?" I ask, shocking the hell out of myself. Guess his boldness is rubbing off on me.
"Like? Undecided. Want? Abso-fucking-lutely."
"What?"
"Don't play dumb, Emmalyn. You're an attractive woman."
I gulp and then shrug. "So, about that quiz?" A subject change is definitely in order.
He nods toward a sheet of paper on the edge of his desk. "Come and get it."