Moose and Goose

Chapter Twenty-two

Judith and Mary's eyes widen when he lifts his right hand to strike her. Jerome rolls his eyes and rushes toward them.

"Step off." Jerome stands between them and is looming over him by two inches.

"Who the fuck are you?" He looks Jerome up and down with the skin over his nose bridge wrinkled. Judith takes a step back, and Mary follows her to Kacey.

"A man that'll smack that look off your face if you put your hands on a lady." Derek scoffs at his threat, attempting to mask the fear racing his heart. He stares into Jerome's cold eyes, but the heat he feels is the polar opposite.

Phantom sweat pricks through the skin behind his neck, and with his right hand against it, he walks away from them. Jerome watches him until he's nearing the lecture and group building, then he looks behind him at the trembling three.

Raindrops fall from the clouds after they collide, and one trickles onto Judith's forehead when he stands in front of her.

"You don't have to say it. I already know," Jerome says, interrupting her before anything can come out of her mouth. "I don't need your help, Jerome. I can take care of myself, Jerome."

She snickers at his falsetto impression of her, and she lowers her head. Mary chuckles through her tears, but Kacey merely stares at him with her eyes squinting as she tries to identify him.

"I wasn't gonna say that," she tells him. "I actually was gonna thank you. Thank you, Jerome."

"You're welcome. You ladies get inside before the rain gets worse," he tells them while shifting his gaze between the three of them.

"Actually, I have a class soon, so I should go." Judith looks at Kacey. "I'll be back after my lecture ends."

When she nods, Judy glances at Mary then walks alongside Jerome. She looks at him, and he peers down at her.

"I'm sorry for what happened back there," she says, and Jerome sighs, then stops walking. He takes her right hand in his left, then draws her towards him. She stares at him with her brows pulled together.

"Stop apologizing, Judy," he softly tells her, and she takes a deep breath. "That guy was looking for trouble the second he tried to hit you."

"Why do you care so much." He releases her hand and forces a smile.

"I mean, I didn't want to intervene, but it's hard to sit and watch something like that," he explains, and they continue walking. "Now, I'm sorry if I made you feel like you can't handle yourself."

"You didn't," she assures him, and she lowers her head with a smile growing on her lips. "It was actually, pretty exciting; having someone fight for me."

"Well, I didn't technically fight for you." Judith looks at him out of her peripheral. "I just threatened to, but I appreciate that you appreciated it. Are you gonna tell your little boyfriend?"

"David isn't little, and he's not my boyfriend – anymore." Her voice becomes meek towards the end of her statement.

"So, there's a slot available, then," he half-jokingly asks, and she chuckles. "I'm glad to see you happy, Judy. Honestly, these past few times I've seen you, you seemed like you were dealing with stuff."

"Did I seem that way, or did Mary blab to you and your friends about my business?" Jerome jerks the lecture and group building's door toward him, and she steps past him. He enters behind her.

"A little bit of both." She rolls her eyes. "Either way, I was worried about you."

"Why," she asks, and when he doesn't respond, she elaborates, "We don't talk enough for you to care about me, and we're not dating, so why were you worried?"

"Maybe I don't need a reason to care other than that's just the type of guy that I am," he tells her with a shrug and his lips pursed. She watches him lick his lips once they reach the stairwell, and she does the same. "Also – maybe I was digging you, and maybe I wanted to woo you but didn't know how to."

She smirks at him, and they step onto the second floor. He looks at her, then turns his head away when her smile puts one on his face.

"After our classes, wait for me here, and we'll see if you're my type," she tells him, then sits her lower lip between her teeth with a smile illuminating her face. He watches her approach the door for the chemistry class to her left, and she stops.

"I don't have a lifetime supply of turtlenecks; I doubt I'll be your type, but like something of an acquired taste, I'll gladly expand your palate." She veers her head toward him with a neutral expression. "Too cheesy?"

"Very." She shakes her head, a smile appearing. "I'll actually be downstairs. Because you distracted me, I walked past my class."

***

The other attendees exit the room, and when Judith is alone with him, she descends the steps with her bag over her shoulder. She walks towards his desk, her heart pounding in her chest without  a reason.

"Professor Chandler," she calls for him in a delicate voice. His eyes are on the paper that he's grading, he has a pen in his left hand, and he doesn't look at her when she speaks to him. "I'm sorry I was late."

When he ignores her again, she takes a deep breath and walks toward the door to leave. Before her right hand can grip the knob, he looks at the back of her head.

"Miss. Jefferson, your head is – bleeding." She turns her face to him, places her right hand against the bruise, then glances at the faint sight of crimson on her fingers.

"Can I change my head wrap in here?" He gives her a confused glare. "I have the stuff to change it, but I don't wanna go in the lady's room again; these two girls made me feel insecure the last time that I did."

He watches her hang her head then he stands from his seat, dropping the pen onto the paper. She watches him stroll around his desk, stop in the front, and fold his arms.

"It's fine with me, but I don't have a mirror," he tells her, and she glances at his shoes, then shakes her head with her lips in a straight line.

"Nevermind," she says without confidence, and he shoots a look at the ceiling, wishing she would take a hint. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Do you need help?" She doesn't answer or move, so he extends his left hand toward her to beckon her over, and she obliges.

Judith follows her teacher around his desk. He stands behind the chair with the top of it in his hands, his attention on her. She slips her bookbag off of her shoulders, and she sits in his seat. It smells of freshly cut grass like his formal attire.

He removes his arms from the sleeves of his black coat, revealing his pale blue button-up that complements his tar-colored slacks.

"Thank you, Professor Chandler," she mumbles. He sits his suit jacket on the back of his chair, but his eyes don't leave her. "Again, I'm sorry for coming in late."

"What happened to you," he asks, and she looks over her shoulder at him. Her bag is between her feet, and the top handle is in her hands.

"I was dealing with personal stuff, and when I was done, I walked past your class," she tells him, but it comes out in a questioning tone.

"I meant, what happened to you for you to be in this – shape." Judith turns her head away from him, and her shoulders rise then fall as she takes a deep breath.

"I was in a car accident with David, but I'm fine," she explains, and he narrows his eyes in disbelief. "And before you write that down to rat me out to Dean O'Connell, it wasn't anyone's fault."

Professor Chandler's jaw shifts as he grits his teeth to avoid pressing her for more. He extends his left arm across her left shoulder with his hand in front of her. He clears his throat to get her attention.

She glances at his prim nails, then at the bag in her hands, and she leans forward to unzip it. He stares at the stain on the back of her cast.