He grinned and scrawled his name on the board. He always wrote “Mark Connelly;” never “Dr. Connelly.” He thought “Dr.” was pretentious. So what that he passed his dissertation? So did a lot of other people. The sixteen years since completing his Ph.D. taught him to look at accomplishments in a very different way. Making someone laugh. Easing a worry. Apologizing and meaning it. These were the accomplishments that mattered most to him.
“I’m Mark,” he said, addressing the freshmen. He pushed a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “You can call me Mark, Mr. Connelly, Dr. Connelly.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “I had one student who liked to call me Doc Con.”
The class chuckled.
“He said it was hardcore and that people would look at me with more respect.”
More laughter.
“Now that I think about it, he got the entire class to call me that all semester. Kinda made me feel like a superhero, if I’m being honest.”
A few girls in the front row giggled.
Mark scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Yeah, so whatever you wanna call me is fine, so long as it’s respectful.” He glanced over the roster. “I don’t plan to use this after today. I don’t take attendance. If you don’t wanna show up for class, that’s your business. You’re the one paying for school, after all. So it makes no difference to me.”
He scanned the room, studying the reactions of the students. Most stared blankly at him, but he could tell a few liked the sound of his words and that he probably wouldn’t see them much after this class.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, though.”
Complete silence, like they were holding their breath.
“It’s inevitable that you will fail if you don’t show up. So think about that.”
He leaned against the desk and started calling roll.
“. . . Emily Binder . . .”
“Here.”
“. . . Darrel Connacht . . .”
“Here.”
“. . . Cadence Connelly?”
“Here,” came a small voice from the back of the classroom.
Mark craned his neck to see her. She peeked her head out from behind a large boy sitting directly in front of her. She grinned, then bit her lower lip. He studied her face for a moment. She wore little makeup because she didn’t need it. He thought by now she should look tired and worn, but she sat there just as fresh-faced as her nineteen-year-old classmates. His eyes moved to that long golden hair draped over her left shoulder in a side ponytail. Who the hell did she think she was, wearing her hair like a teenager? He grinned at her—his acknowledgement of her little game.
“Look at that,” Mark said softly. “We have the same last name.”
She nodded and disappeared behind the boy.
Mark cleared his throat and continued down the list of students until roll was completed. Then he balled the paper and threw it in the trash.
The rest of the class period was spent going over the syllabus. Mark started a lesson, but it was cut short when a student reminded him of the time.
“Yeah, that’s another thing,” he called over the noise of everyone packing their bags. “Remind me when class is over. I tend to forget.”
Students filed out of the room, and he glimpsed the girl with the golden hair among them. She was just outside the door when he called to her.
“Cadence, will you hang back a minute?”
She waited until everyone left before walking back in. She approached Mark, who sat on the edge of the desk, Converse All Star-clad feet dangling off the side, hands folded in his lap. She stood within inches of him and waited.
He considered her for a moment.
“I think you’re the sweetest thing,” he said.
She blushed and hung her head.
“I . . . I hope you understand how dangerous this is—us being together,” he continued.
She stifled a laugh.
“I mean, no one could ever know, Cadence. You’re my student, and it’s inappropriate, and I could lose my job.”
A giggle snuck out.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” Mark said. He was so much better at playing than she was. His voice didn’t falter once. He sounded really serious, so she took a deep breath, regained her composure, and tried her hardest to play along.
“I take it seriously, Dr. Connelly. I would never want you to lose your job because of me. I’ll be careful. I won’t say anything.”
She moved closer to him, standing between his legs, and placed her hands on the tops of his thighs. He watched her diamond-encrusted wedding band sparkle.
“We’ll have to be sneaky. Dishonest. You can’t look at me in class like you did today,” she said. “It’s too obvious, and people’ll start to figure it out.”
He nodded.
She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Why do you have to be so sexy, Dr. Connelly?”
“We shouldn’t do this here,” Mark whispered back.
“I know,” Cadence replied. She turned her head and glimpsed the open door. She saw students moving through the hallway, but no one came inside the classroom. She turned back to Mark. “Just promise me whatever happens—if we’re discovered, if you have to report to the dean or something, if you lose your job—just promise you’ll always be there for me.”