Chapter 2

The trek back to Naomi’s office proved more tiresome than the journey to Svenson. In the late afternoon sun, the humidity was exceptionally oppressive for a New England September day. And with the added burden of having to lug the fifteen-page poetry explications the students had submitted, she’d broken a sweat by the time she arrived back at Kellerman, which was also the building that housed the English department suite. As she boarded the elevator, her arms weighed down with the crate of essays, she wished parking spots were easier to come by so she could’ve driven across campus instead. She was thankful it was her last class of the day.

What she wasn’t thankful for was Sebastian yelling, “Hold the elevator!” She was certain that he must’ve known it was her inside since he’d probably been only a few steps behind her as she entered the building. Why a male in such good shape would choose the elevator over one flight of stairs would remain a mystery to her because she refused to ask him. Asking him would mean she’d have to speak to him, and that was not something she wanted to do right now. There was only one conclusion that she could draw for his behavior: he wanted to gloat.

The thought crossed her mind to hit the button that would shut the doors even faster, but she wouldn’t let the jerk know how much he’d gotten to her. So though she made no effort to close the doors, she refused to hold them for him either. Especially since both her arms were still burdened with the heavy crate. When he slipped his hand between the doors and they reversed direction, she internally groaned. There had been a chance—albeit a small one—that the doors might slice his arm in two or perhaps trap him there while the elevator rose. Getting to witness his death had been too exciting a possibility to dismiss.

Once inside, he leaned against the sidewall to face her, but she refused to acknowledge his presence. She stared straight at the doors as she attempted to adjust the crate to a different location on her hands than the one it had been digging into for the last fifteen minutes.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him adjust his tie, but he didn’t exactly loosen it. In fact, she’d never seen him loosen it. In the three years she’d known him, he always wore a perfectly pressed shirt and tie. He probably owned stock in starch. “It’s hot out there today,” Sebastian said casually, as if he had simply been making small talk with a stranger.

But she didn’t miss his slight smirk when he said it, like he was rubbing it in that she’d had to hike across campus in the 85-degree weather while he…

She noticed the wax paper bag in his hand, which had obviously been the source of the sweet cinnamon she’d smelled when he’d entered. Well, apparently he had time to grab a snack after class. The bastard.

Naomi’s jaw twisted with the urge to respond, but she managed to ignore him. Thankfully, the ride was short, because the air inside the elevator was stifling. Though Naomi couldn’t be sure if it was due to the weather, the tension between them, or the fact that he had baked goods and she didn’t. She exited the elevator as soon as the doors slid open and made a sharp left to head toward the offices. When she arrived at the old wooden door and discovered it was locked, she set the crate down and began digging through her bag for her keys. Though she refused to look in his direction, she could feel Sebastian’s imposing presence next to her as he waited.

As immature as it seemed, there was no way in hell (which was what her current situation could be described as) that she would ask Sebastian to unlock the door for her. But by some miracle, Sebastian reached into his pocket and took out his keys (albeit with a sigh), unlocking the door and pulling it open for her to enter.

The gesture surprised her. Though it didn’t quite qualify as chivalrous, it was at least a polite courtesy, which was something she didn’t realize Sebastian Blake was even capable of. “Thank you,” she said curtly after entering.

The university, in its infinite wisdom, had decided to lead by design and set up offices so they were more “collaborative.” Therefore, each block of departmental offices was now a suite—a giant rectangular room with a giant boardroom table in the center. Everyone had a small office around the perimeter that was more of a cubicle, large enough to fit a desk, a filing cabinet, and one extra chair for students during office hours, but nothing more. Therefore, it was often more conducive to everyone’s sanity that they work at the large table so they could spread out. To “sweeten” the deal, a small kitchenette has also been included in each suite.

Sebastian and Naomi headed to their respective desks, which, unfortunately, were across the room from one another. That meant that every time Naomi looked out of her three-by-five cell, she got the pleasure of having to stare not only at Sebastian, but also at the barren wall behind him. It’s not like she expected the man to decorate exactly (not everyone could make their workspace feel as homey as she had), but something other than his face would’ve been nice to look at. Would it have killed him to put up a calendar? Naomi tried to ignore him as much as possible, but since they had class at almost the same times, their office hours overlapped much of the time as well.

Naomi set her crate down on her desk and shook out her hands, which were reddened with a dark line where the plastic had pushed into the skin. Then she removed the essays and settled in with her red pen to begin grading.

“Still having students submit papers the old-fashioned way?” Sebastian commented as he refilled his coffee mug for what she guessed was the eighth time today.

“Still killing yourself slowly with carcinogens and caffeine?”

His ceramic mug had probably been white at one time but was now a grungy beige color from years of constant use. He’d written “Blake” on it with a Sharpie, because clearly he was delusional enough to think someone other than himself would want to ingest something that had been in there.

Sebastian would reheat that thing for as long as it took to get the liquid hot again. And though he washed it meticulously after each cup, the brown stains lining the inside remained. Like the rings of an old oak tree, they could probably be used to tally the days Sebastian had been at Hainamor.

Naomi directed her gaze up from the papers in front of her but tried to be discreet enough that Sebastian wouldn’t notice her eyes on him. His lip twitched like he was trying to suppress a smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Well, if carcinogens and caffeine don’t do me in, I’m sure working with you will eventually make me suicidal.”

“I know the feeling,” she said, now glaring at him.

This time he smiled in satisfaction before taking a sip of his black coffee that she was sure was strong enough to take the old lead paint off the walls of her new classroom in Svenson. “You can’t stand yourself either?” he asked. The way he cocked his head to the side told her he was pleased with his witty remark. That made one of them.

“You know, you’ve really got some nerve. You make me walk across campus because you want my classroom, and now you’re purposely trying to rile me up?”

His face was expressionless as he moved toward his chair, which earlier she’d lowered to the closest setting to the floor hoping it would throw him off balance as he sat. It didn’t. He simply raised it back to the exact spot he always had it, where the arms were perfectly parallel with the top of his desk. “I didn’t make you walk. You could’ve driven. Of course I’m not surprised you chose to get some sun. You could use some vitamin D to help improve your mood.”

He paused for a moment and spun his chair from side to side, his hands folded on his lap until a thought seemed to occur to him. If there had been a real lightbulb above his head, Naomi would’ve shattered it in hopes that the broken glass might slice his jugular. “Maybe you should take your students out to the quad again and hold class there,” he suggested. “Perhaps they can write a series of haikus about the breeze.”

“That unit isn’t for another month because I need the leaves to start turning,” she snapped back, though it quickly occurred to her that her defense only gave him more ammunition. And by the amused look on his face, he was loading his gun. But she wouldn’t give him time to shoot it. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have a coffin to go sleep in or someone’s blood to drink?”

“Nope,” he said, looking into whatever was left in his disgusting mug. “Only black coffee. And just like you, I have office hours until five.”

“Well, thankfully I’m leaving at four today. An hour without you is an hour well spent,” Naomi replied.

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Hmm,” was all he said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. It’s definitely something. Tell me.” She hated how desperate she sounded. But she couldn’t stand the way he was always commenting on everything she did even if the commentary wasn’t always aloud. She’d be sitting at her desk, minding her own business, and she’d notice him glance at her when she made a phone call or spoke to a student she was working with. Sometimes he’d roll his eyes or narrow them in confusion as she explained something that presumably didn’t make sense to him. Other times he’d snicker out loud, so she knew for certain that he thought whatever she was doing was ridiculous.

“It’s unlike you to leave early. I’m certain you have no social life to speak of, so you can’t be meeting friends or a boyfriend,” he said, more to himself than to her. “I’m thinking it’s something aesthetic. Something to make you feel better about the dire straits your life is in. Nails? Facial maybe? Spray tan?”

“I’m getting my hair dyed black to match your soul,” she replied dryly. “What do you care anyway? Afraid you’ll miss me?”

Sebastian laughed outright. “Hardly.”

She narrowed her eyes and smirked at him. “Oh, I don’t know,” she almost sang. “I think that may be it. You’re secretly in love with me, aren’t you?”

Sebastian’s eyes widened and his lips twisted. The man looked legitimately horrified. “I’ve made no secret of my feelings for you. And they aren’t exactly positive.”

“The truth shall set you free, Sebastian,” she taunted. She knew their entire conversation was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help it. Sebastian actually looked a tad flustered—something that she’d never seen in him before. She liked it. A lot.

Sebastian removed his glasses with one hand and set them on his desk. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him without them, and she realized that he appeared to be almost a different person entirely. That must’ve been how all the people of Metropolis weren’t able to identify Clark Kent when he changed into Superman. It took her a second to remember that he was the same arrogant jackass she couldn’t stand, and she mentally reprimanded herself for drawing any kind of parallel between Sebastian and a superhero.

Her disgust for him came back with a vengeance when he said, “You done?”

“Not even close,” she started in, but she was interrupted by a male voice from behind her.

“Are the two of you finished flirting with each other for the day?”

She turned around, but she didn’t need to see him to know it was Jeffrey Morgan. The fact that he was Hainamor’s dean—thus making him Dean Jeffrey Morgan instead of Jeffrey Dean Morgan—only made her association with the celebrity even stronger in her mind. Unfortunately, the middle-aged five-foot-four weasel of a man bore little resemblance to the sexy actor. “I’d like to see you both in my office before you leave. Four thirty,” he said with the same sternness he used in every situation. For a speck of a man, he was terrifying.

They both nodded, and Dean Morgan left with a “See you both in a bit.”

And as if Naomi’s day couldn’t get any worse, Sebastian said, “Guess you won’t be leaving at four after all.”