The Professor

Chapter Six | Making Friends

⚠️Trigger warning: themes of eating disorders appear in this chapter. ⚠️

I strut into class early the next day feeling better about not only my future as an author, but my status as an Oxford University student. My thousand word essay titled, 'Phone Sex With My Professor' sits comfortably under my arm until I place it on James' desk, where he's currently setting up for whatever presentation he has planned for our lecture.

"That was fast," he remarks, smiling.

I return the gesture. "Being reckless is fun."

"You should try it more often," he says, taking hold of my paper and slipping it into his briefcase. "It suits you."

"Maybe I will."

His playful smile suddenly disappears as he adopts a more serious expression. "Are you feeling okay about yesterday's feedback? My intention wasn't to hurt you. I just want the best from you, Sloan."

"I wont lie, it sucked. But I appreciate your honesty," I assure. "I wont sell books with mediocre writing."

"I believe in you," he offers. "You'll figure it out."

Before I can reply, Jeremy and a few other people stroll in and I make my way over, having promised to make more of an effort with my peers. They each greet me warmly and soon after, Jeremy pulls me aside to get the details on my feedback session.

"How bad was it?" he asks.

"He called my writing mediocre," I admit. "How was yours?"

"Brutal, but in a good way. I actually agreed with everything he said."

"Good," I say, genuinely pleased for him. "Maybe we can chat more about it over coffee?"

He does very little to hide his surprise. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Guys, did you hear that? Sloan's finally joining us for coffee!"

The group laugh and beyond them, I see James smiling to himself. In a way, I like that he approves. Not because I seek his validation, but because it means he cares. He cares in a way that all teachers should for their students. He claims he wants what's best for us and—regardless of what may or may not be going on between us—I believe him. For the first time ever, I've met someone who both intrigues me and challenges me. Maybe, that's exactly what I need right now? Flirting with him is most certainly against University rules, but as long as our relationship doesn't affect my grade in any way, which—let's be honest—James would never do, I can't see any harm in it. Besides, it's just a bit of fun.

It's not like I'll fall in love with the guy.

****

Coffee with the guys is surprisingly pleasant. My lack of ability to talk about anything other than English literature was energy wasted, because that's all these people want to talk about. And I love it. Lara called at one point and was extremely impressed when I told her I couldn't talk due to being the social butterfly she's always wanted me to me. I couldn't get her off the phone quick enough. Jeremy banged on about William Shakespeare and somehow initiated a game of shag, marry, avoid, featuring only classic authors.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" he asks an hour later, helping me into my coat.

I smile my appreciation. "No, it's okay."

"Are you sure? I'm really tough!"

I playfully squeeze his tiny bicep and get close, pretending to inspect it. "Oh, yeah? According to who?"