Chapter Twenty-One
Noah
The campus was still dark and still when I parked in the professors’ parking lot. I navigated along the dimly lit pathways with familiarity until I reached the dining hall right as they opened. Helping myself to some coffee, I ventured to the English Department in a mixture of anticipation and nerves.
There was no more avoiding me now. Iris had to show up to class if she had any hopes of passing Freshman English. Her grade depended upon attendance, not just work – or anything else that had happened over spring break.
Kale’s office light was on when I climbed up the stairs. I paused in the doorframe, blinking to adjust to the bright light and grinned when he turned around in his chair.
“You look nice and tanned,” I said.
“You look nice and pale,” he replied, returning the grin. “What are you doing here so early?”
I shrugged my shoulders casually to hide the real reason why I wanted to be here early: I wanted answers from Iris.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I said. “What about you?”
“I’m grading a stack of exams I didn’t do before I left,” he said, grimacing. “I promised Miles they’d be in the system before 8:00 a.m. classes.”
“All party and no work, huh?”
“You could say that.” He laughed. “How was your break with all the snow?”
Flashes of Iris naked underneath me appeared in my head. I shook those away and tucked my hands into the front pockets of my pants. “Not bad. The snow melted two days later, so it wasn’t a huge deal. Pretty much warm the entire time you were gone. Nothing like the beach, though, I’m sure.”
“No, nothing like the beach. The women there are gorgeous.” He sighed wistfully. “I almost didn’t come back here. It was that tempting to stay.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said. “Otherwise, I’d have to hang out with the other professors.”
“I’d really like to see that.”
I left him to finish up grading before the sun rose. A chilly air occupied my office from being vacant for over a week. I adjusted the heat and took a seat at my desk to check through the usual boring emails about the events happening on campus this week. I nearly clicked out of the browser when my eyes caught sight of an email subject that said, Jack Miller: Love Triangle.
I opened the email. I had a decent-sized fan base, but none of them sent emails to my personal address. I had a designated email address just for Jack Miller fans.
Dear Jack Miller,
I am an agent for Sweet Stuff Publishing in New York. Your book, Love Triangle, caught my attention among millions of others. I see that it has been a few months since you last published, and I do hope you will continue.
With that said, I have an offer for you, if you could please give me a call at the number below. We think you would be a wonderful addition to our staff of elite authors.
Sincerely,
Carly Frey
Sweet Stuff Publishing Agent
“Interesting,” I said, reaching up to rub at my chin. “It’s catching the eyes of agents now?”
I’d never expected that Love Triangle would be a great hit with readers. It had sort of been an experiment when I wrote it to vent of some sexual tension. Now, I had emails all the time asking for me to write other books, but I lacked the time to sit down and write another four hundred pages without life getting in the way.
I made a mental note to call Carly Frey later to see what her offer was. Five minutes before 8:00 a.m., I walked down to my classroom to find a few students gathered in front of the door. I scanned the group for Iris’ sand-colored hair, but she hadn’t arrived yet. I forced myself to smile at everyone, despite the disappointment swelling in my stomach.
“Good morning,” I said, almost too cheerfully for my own liking. “Did everyone have a good spring break?”
I half-listened to my students talk about their spring breaks as I unlocked the classroom. Glancing up at the clock above the door, I tried to not let my annoyance show. Either Iris had reverted back to her old habits by being late, or she was on her way to class. For her sake, I hoped it was the latter.
I handed back everyone’s paper while I gave Iris another five minutes to show up. While those minutes ticked by, I stared down at Iris’ essay in my hand. It was a thoughtful paper with improved writing, but now I wondered if she really did deserve that A I had scrawled on the top corner. I curled the paper up and stuffed it into the back pocket of my pants before turning to address the rest of the class.
“Did everyone get to read the assigned reading?” I asked, glancing up at the clock. Again.
They all nodded. At least my freshman students took everything I said seriously. I sighed inwardly when the realization that Iris wasn’t coming hit me. Something could’ve come up, but I had doubts. I had a lot of doubts about her not showing up for class.
It took all my self-control not to pull out my phone to text her and demand a reason for her not attending. Fuck it. If she wanted to play that type of game and put her grade in jeopardy, that was her deal.
For an entire hour, I tried to keep myself focused on my lesson plan, but anger brewed inside me. I was getting a taste of my own bitter medicine, and I didn’t like it. Hunter had been right when he said it was my pride getting upset about possibly being used for a good grade.
And, both our futures at PHU were on the line because of that one night of wonderful temptation.
I waited until the last of my students were out before I stopped Jen on her way out. Before she had left for spring break, I had given the okay for her to transfer into my morning class to better fit her hectic class schedule.
“Have you spoken to Ms. Paige this morning?” I asked, keeping my expression as calm as possible. I didn’t want to tip off Jen anything, but she seemed to be pretty close to Iris.
She shook her head, short black curls bouncing at the movement. “I haven’t heard anything from her,” she said, and concern filtered through her voice. “I’ll give her a call this afternoon if you want me to.”
I nodded. “That would be great if you can. Try to remind her that her grade depends on attendance of classes and our tutoring sessions later this afternoon.”
“I will try to get a hold of her.”
The rest of the afternoon was a chaotic blur of getting back into the swing of teaching. I barely thought of Iris until I walked down to the bottom floor to find a few students, but no sign of her anywhere. I shook my head in exasperation. Clearly, she didn’t care much about her grade – or graduating period – if she thought she could skip out to avoid me.
Jen approached me the moment I set my bag down on the table. I tried to read the expression on her face.
“She said that she’s been sick,” Jen said, shrugging her shoulders. “I tried to tell her to get to tutoring, but she insisted that she was too ill to move.”
I didn't push it, despite my urge to point out that was a bullshit reason. I pulled out my copy of English Victorian Literature and a couple of pens.
“Thank you, Jen,” I managed to say in an even voice. “I appreciate you tracking her down for me.”
“Of course,” she said. “She did mention, though, that she would be in class on Wednesday when I repeated what you told me about her grade depending on attendance.”
I knew that would get Iris’ attention. I nodded as Jen moved over to sit in a chair across from me. I glanced down at my notes. I would have to wait until Wednesday to get the answers that I wanted.