The Lie

“Don’t you think I could better grade them on your teachings if I understood your brain better?”

I crack a sardonic smile and tap my head. “Believe me, you don’t want in this brain.”

“You’d be surprised, Professor Blue Eyes.”

Everything in me stills. “What did you call me?” I manage to ask, my voice hard.

“You remember Natasha’s nickname for you, don’t you?” she asks, sounding oh so innocent.

I’m fumbling for something to say, and the longer I’m silent, the more smug she looks. “That’s fairly inappropriate,” I tell her. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Brings back bad memories, huh?”

A flash of anger burns in my chest. “You told me yourself to forget her. This hardly helps.”

She runs her finger up and down my desk. “Oh, I don’t think you’re ever going to forget her, Professor McGregor. I know what being lovesick looks like.”

“Melissa,” I say sharply. “If that’s all you wanted to discuss with me, then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Then ask me to leave.”

I nod at the door. “There’s the bloody door. Use it. And next time you need actual help with something, remember to stick to the subject at hand. You may assist me in my class, but that’s all you do—assist. I’m the teacher here, and I’m in charge of your grades and your future. Don’t forget that.”

She raises her brows. “Are you threatening me?”

I shake my head, my jaw tense. “Please, if that’s all, just go. I have a lot of work to do.”

She narrows her eyes at me and jumps off the desk. “Fine. Last time I ask my teacher for help.”

She gathers up her papers and leaves my office, slamming the door behind her.

I let out a sigh of relief.

Bloody fucking hell. Just what the hell was that about?

The first time she came by I chalked it up to her being an overly protective friend. Now I don’t know what to think. She either hates me and wants to get under my skin…or it’s the opposite. And she wants to get under my skin.

I wish I could talk to Natasha about it. I haven’t spoken to her since our pub date, meeting, whatever the hell it was. I’ve tried, numerous times, to compose an email to her, but I keep erasing the bloody thing. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know how to express what it is I want from her. I don’t even know.

But I know it starts with seeing her again.

And soon.

I bite the bullet and just start to write.



Natasha,



I was wondering when you’d like to come over and see my dog.

He’s been on his best behaviour lately and I would like to take advantage of this.

Any night this week works for me.

He’d prefer to see you tonight, and I’m fine with that too.



Brigs



I know for a fact that the whole having a dog thing helps any man with the ladies. I mean, just look at Lachlan. Okay, that’s a bad example since the bastard could get any woman without the dogs, but still. I may have not rescued Winter for this purpose, but that won’t stop me from using him that way.

I wait for her response, wondering if she’s in class. I consider looking her up in the system and seeing her class schedule, but the computer dings as her reply comes in.

I brace myself as I click on it, worried by the quickness of her response. It could be a giant “fuck off” for all I know.



Brigs,



Tell your dog tonight sounds good. I would love to pop in and say hello.

Maybe afterward we could catch a movie. My brain is burning out on all the class requirements, and there’s that new Tarantino film at the cinemas I think you’d hate.



Natasha.

PS your dog better be as awesome as he sounds.



I’ve got the biggest fucking grin spread across my face. I quickly look for theatres closest to my flat and tell her to come over between seven-thirty and eight. It will give me just enough time to show her around before we catch the film.

I understand why she suggested going out, too. Her coming over to my flat without a plan is asking for trouble. Maybe it’s just the kind of trouble I’m looking for, but it’s still trouble in the end.

I’m positively giddy as I take the train home, like a goddamn schoolboy with a crush. I have to remind myself that I can’t get carried away, can’t take anything for granted. I guess I’m just happy to have Natasha back in my life, the chance to hear her laugh, to feel every inch of light that she radiates.

Her face Monday night wasn’t the same as when I first ran into her in the halls. The fear and the pain were gone, and her eyes were deep with warmth and a certain ease, especially as the night wore on. Of course we were both half-corked, but even so, that only meant the real Natasha was coming through.