Eva’s mouth dropped open as if she didn’t buy such a lame excuse. “Really? That’s all he said to you during your forty-five-minute conversation?”
Wow, our gossiping eavesdroppers had actually been timing us? Weird. And had we really talked for forty-five minutes? No way. It hadn’t felt that long. But then, it hadn’t felt nearly long enough, either.
“Well…” I frowned. “Mostly, yeah. After talking about Sarah, we moved on to a couple other topics, but—”
“What other topics? Like his work?”
I rolled my eyes. My God, she could be even more curious than I was sometimes. “Well…sort of. That was on the list. But we talked about all kinds of—”
“Oh, my God, so he admitted what he is.”
“You said he would.”
“But…but everything I’ve ever heard about him was just…hearsay. This is actually…fact.” Her mouth fell open as she whispered, “Holy shit, he’s really a gigolo.”
At that moment, our professor walked into the classroom. A sharp-dressed woman, Dr. Janison wore fitted skirt suits as you could imagine some executive in high fashion might wear. It was too bad I had to hate her now; she really did teach well and knew how to put together an awesome ensemble.
But thinking of her anywhere near Mason made me feel all heartbroken and depressed. And kind of vengeful.
Unable to help myself, I motioned to her with my eyes and leaned across the aisle to whisper, “And guess who one of his clients is.”
Mouth falling open, Eva turned to watch our teacher set her briefcase on top of her desk and click it open. “No freaking way.”
A niggle of guilt gnawed at my conscience. Mason hadn’t acted like it was a big secret, but I suddenly felt ashamed about spreading gossip about him—even though it was true and I was only telling my favorite relative and personal confidant.
Still.
“But you didn’t hear that,” I was quick to add. Both the professor and Mason would find themselves in a world of trouble if someone leaked their association.
“Oh, hell, yes, I did,” Eva whispered, unable to take her eyes off Dr. Janison. “I wonder what position she likes it in.”
Seriously? “You did not just say that.”
“Whatever. Tell me to my face you’re not a little jealous of her right now. I mean, the man ate lunch with you yesterday. Mason Lowe just doesn’t…interact with females in public. I think you have more claim over him now than any girl, like, ever.” She turned back to me. “You should be the most jealous of us all.”
“I…no,” I insisted a little too emphatically. But did I really have more claim over him than any other girl ever? “I mean, no. I don’t hate Jessica for having Justin, do I?”
How could anyone hate another woman for having a man who was totally out of her league?
Eva wrinkled her face in confusion. “Jessica and Justin?”
I gasped. How could she not know who Jessica and Justin were? “Justin Timberlake,” I clarified with that are-you-kidding-me kind of expression all over my face. “Jessica Biel. Only one of Hollywood’s hottest couples.”
Now she really looked mystified. “You like Justin Timberlake?”
“Hello.” The look I sent her said, Yes! Duh. “He brought sexy back.”
Ooh, and now that I was thinking of it, that would be a good song to add to my phone for Sarah to groove to.
“Well, whatever,” E. murmured beside me as I searched for “SexyBack” since “Let’s Get It Started” had finished downloading. “You can deny jealousy all you want. I don’t think Dr. Janison is going to be so forgiving, though.”
I whipped my head up. “What do you mean?”
“Honey, she’s going to flunk you hard for playing with her boy toy…without paying for him.”
I swear, she and Mason sounded too much alike sometimes. I opened my mouth to tell her our professor was a professional; she would not flunk me just because I had one lunch with her gigolo.
But Dr. Janison interrupted me by beginning class. “Good morning. Today, we’re going to start studying a new author. I think everyone will get a kick out of Chaucer—”
She broke off mid-word when her gaze caught mine where I sat near the right side of the room midway down the aisle. Recognition lit her gaze, and her face drained of all color. Then her eyes narrowed ominously. When everyone turned to glance at me, I shrank lower in my seat.
“You are so flunked,” E. hissed under her breath.
Oh, God. I was.
$
“We’re getting our noses pierced this weekend.”
I paused eating my lunch to gape at E. “Say what?”
I’d been so deep in thought, wondering if I should transfer out of my literature class, I hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to her prattling. But I swore I’d just heard something along the lines of—
“You, me, nose rings. This weekend.”