---
"Hello," he said. "I'm new, Professor. I'll be taking over this course for the rest of the semester."
No. Freaking. Way.
I ducked under my desk, hoping he wouldn't notice me. But he did.
He stifled a laugh, looking directly at me. "Miss hiding-under-the-table? You good?"
I groaned.
Whispers spread like wildfire through the classroom. Great. Just great.
I sank lower in my seat, willing the ground to swallow me whole. Why was life so obsessed with humiliating me?
After class, I made a beeline for the door—but, of course, fate had other plans.
"Miss Under-the-Table," a deep voice called from behind me. "A word?"
I froze mid-step. A few students chuckled as they brushed past me.
Of course. Can't catch a break even in academia.
I turned slowly. "Yes, Professor?"
He grinned like he was trying not to grin. "Care to explain the floor routine? Was that a stress coping mechanism or...?"
"It was avoidance," I said flatly. "And it didn't work."
He laughed. "You're bold. I like that."
"You already said that yesterday," I snapped. "Is it your catchphrase or something?"
He raised a brow. "You remember what I said yesterday?"
Damn it.
I clenched my jaw. "You ran into me. Of course I remember."
"Well, seeing as fate clearly wants us to bond, how about you stop by my office hours? We can talk about your attitude—and your attendance."
"My attendance?"
"You weren't here for the first two lectures."
"I was sick."
"Convenient," he mused, clearly not believing me.
I crossed my arms. "You're enjoying this way too much."
He leaned against the wall, arms folded. "Only mildly."
Ugh. Who made this man professor of anything? He looked like a walking CELINE ad and had the ego to match.
---