~ Ace ~
Grabbing the textbook Ms. Tiffany had purchased for him, Ace headed to the room indicated on the online registration confirmation. Since they’d posted a schematic of the small campus, it was easy to find. Intrigued with the idea of attending a real college class, Ace had read all the information posted for new students and discovered gang colors were prohibited. He could argue that his MC wasn’t a gang and probably win on appeal. However, he wasn’t keen on drawing unnecessary attention to himself, since he stood out enough already. Truth be told, Ace also didn’t want any blowback to land on the nice professor who sucked him off a few weeks ago.
A smile came to his face as he remembered how nice that had been. She seemed like a seriously sweet woman, in addition to being drop-dead gorgeous and apparently smart as hell. She was meant for better things than an ex-con still trying to pull himself out of his life of crime, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t return the favor a time or two while she looked for Mr. Right.
Something tightened in his chest when he thought about her sucking another man off. He seriously needed his head checked to be feeling some kind of way about that.
Barreling down the hallway, he glanced down at his watch, almost causing him to collide with none other than the lovely professor herself.
“You!” she gasped.
Raising one eyebrow, he asked politely, “Who?”
Glancing down at his waist, he saw the exact second she realized that she knew the name of his cock but not his actual name. “Well, I’m…it’s nice to see you again.”
Holding the door open, he tried not to smile. “Ladies first.” Waiting a couple of seconds, he added quietly, “Except when they’re feeling generous, that is.”
Biting her bottom lip, she avoided his eyes. Unless he missed his guess, Ace could swear she was thinking of her insistence on giving him pleasure first. The redheaded professor was all kinds of cute when her cheeks turned pink.
Ducking under his arm, she rushed into the classroom. It was filled with around a dozen people, mostly younger students. Ace grabbed a seat in the back where he could stretch his feet out a bit.
Professor Reynolds seemed a bit rattled. More so than he would have thought for simply bumping into him again. His Spidey senses were going off, big time. Something was definitely off with her.
Glancing around, he tried to get a read on the other students. Most were scrolling through their phones, one was reading from an electronic tablet, two guys were playing some sort of video game on handheld devices, and the rest were at various states of attention.
A young feminine voice spoke as a body dropped into the seat beside him. “Hey, why are you back here?”
“Go away.”
“Screw you, dude. I’ll sit where I like.”
Reaching over with one foot, Ace scooted her desk several inches away. “I like my space.”
Stuffing a pen behind her ear, the young blonde eyed him suspiciously. “You’re a real weirdo, like, serial killer weird.”
“There are empty chairs all over this room, and yet you chose to sit beside the one person you think might be a serial killer.”
Shrugging, she began unpacking her book and writing tablet. “So what.”
“Choosing to sit beside and talk to someone you believe to be a deviant makes you ten kinds of stupid, that’s what.”
A grin jumped onto her young face, making him feel older than he already did. Without an ounce of guile, she quipped, “I was thinking it might be a wardrobe malfunction of some sort.”
Ace looked down at his clothing. His worn jeans had a couple of holes and his button-up shirt was stained with motorcycle grease in a couple of places. “My clothes are clean and that should be enough.”
“Shush, she’s about to speak. God, she has the most amazing voice.”
More than a little surprised, Ace realized the hipster was in the same boat he was. “Shit, are you crushing on your teacher?”
“Me and most of the archeology majors. She’s hot.”
“I’d have to agree with you about that. She’s a real nice person, as well.”
“She’s gorgeous.”
“You’re not here to perve on your professor. You’re working on a degree in archeology, remember?”
Shooing him away with one hand, she muttered, “I’m a chem major, but tonight I’m all about the archeology. Now seriously, dude, shut up.”
The less-than-charming girl was absolutely right. He shouldn’t be wasting time trying to convince her to get on task, since he was here for practically the same reason.
Scoping out the room one more time, he tried to ascertain how many of her students were just here to spend a little time with her. Thankfully, virtually none of them were paying any attention, even though she’d already started her speech. No, wait, it wasn’t a speech. When professors gave speeches, it was called a lecture. He noticed she was pretty much rolling through the first chapter in the book, giving random examples of prominent archeological finds to help make the information stick.
Several of the students were scribbling furiously, intent on capturing every word. The hipster chick seemed to be vacillating between being awestruck and getting down enough information to pass the class. Since she wasn’t telling him much that he didn’t already know from reading the text, Ace laid his cell aside. He’d uploaded a program to make notes, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. She had a way about her, probably because she was so enthusiastic about the subject matter that it made the material easy to remember.
Ace thought wryly, college was probably something he could have really enjoyed if he hadn’t spent most of his life incarcerated for his brother’s crime. Still, he was doing okay for a guy who’d been dealt a shit hand in life.
After class was over and the youngsters began filing out of the classroom, he again noticed the pretty redhead seemed a little anxious. Pulling out one of his special homemade calling cards, he gave her a little two-finger salute, dropped it on the desk, and tapped it with two fingers. Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, he did an about face and strolled out of the room.
Shortly after making it out of the building, he realized the hipster chick was running to catch up with him. Unsure what she could possibly want, he picked up his pace.
Being young and spry, she quickly and easily caught up with him. Why does everything about this chick make me feel older than the hills?
“Hey, what’s up with the playing card?”
“What playing card?” Shoving his book into his saddlebag, he was beginning to get the little sister vibe from her.
She frowned at him. “Don’t be coy. It never looks good on a guy. You put an ace of hearts on the table and made sure she saw it.”
Climbing onto his bike, he grabbed his helmet. “My name is Ace and it had my cell number on the back.”
“Fuck me, dude. That was smooth.”
“It wasn’t all that clever, kid. I like nonverbal communication. It puts the ball in her court.” Just then his phone jingled. Pulling it out, he smiled.
“Are you kidding me? She just texted you, didn’t she.”
“It’s rude to ask and ruder still for me to say. Now amscray, kid, and let the grown-ups talk.”
Shifting her backpack to get comfortable, she tossed him a lopsided smile. “Have at it, dude. See you on Thursday.”
“Take it easy and stay safe.”
“You sound like my dad when he’s trying to be all cool and shit.”
Ripping out a page from her book, he muttered without looking up, “Whatever.” His mind was already preoccupied with texting the woman of his dreams.
I’m guessing your name is Jeremy Strond. I called role when I first came in but you didn’t answer.
Sorry about that.
You were probably too busy talking to Miss Jennifer Jackson to hear me.
If you say so. I didn’t catch her name.
She’s pretty young.
I don’t want to talk about that annoying little hipster. I’m here because I was hoping to get to know you a little better.
Paying college tuition is an expensive way to get to know someone.
It was a friend’s idea.
Why didn’t you just call?
I texted but didn’t get an answer back.
Ace was getting good at texting again since he got out of jail a few months ago. So many things had changed while he was on the inside. Cell phones were now common place and had all kinds of new features. Texting was something he knew, so he preferred it to video chatting and all the other new features his phone had to offer.
I don’t remember getting a text from you. I would have remembered because I was hoping to hear from you.
Shoving his hand roughly through his hair, Ace’s fingers flew over the screen.
I’m glad you contacted me. Maybe, we can talk a bit and eventually meet up for dinner or something when you’re comfortable with me.
Ace wasn’t about to assume she was ready for a date just because of what happened before. He understood that was probably a one-off thing for a woman like Barbara.
I’m not supposed to date my students.
I can drop the class.
Maybe we can just text for a while and if things get serious, we can cross that bridge when we get to it.
Chewing his bottom lip, Ace was tempted to explain that he didn’t do serious. Unfortunately, that might put an abrupt end to her interest in him.
Sounds good. Text me later when you get home?
I will. Drive safely Mr. Strond.
You too Ms. Reynolds.
Hanging up, Ace started his bike and headed to the clubhouse. That was possibly the most civilized conversation he’d ever had with a woman. Maybe this was how normal people interacted with each other. The conversation had a certain strained quality to it, but he supposed that was to be expected when people didn’t know each other very well. Something nagged at him, though, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.