Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Me, too.” Surprisingly, I mean it. What I’ve discovered is that he has a good sense of humor and is knowledgeable about more than statistics. At the end of our meal, I offered to pay for my portion of the bill, but he quickly waved off my concern, which made this feel more like a date. “Thanks again for dinner, Dr. Holloway.”
His lips lift into an easy smile. “When we’re outside of the classroom, feel free to call me Gabriel. I think we’ve moved past such stuffy formalities, don’t you?”
Ahh...I don’t know. I’ve never referred to any of my professors by their first names. Certainly not to their faces.
It feels a little...weird.
When I continue to stare, a chuckle erupts from him, and he moves closer.
“Honestly Elle, it’s fine. All of my grad students call me by my given name. It’s not a big deal. You don’t have to make it one.”
Is that what I’m doing?
Making a non-issue into something more?
I don’t know. I can’t tell. And I’m unsure if it’s the wine clouding my better judgement or not. Instead of arguing, I nod. “Okay,” there’s a pause as I force out his name, “Gabriel.”
Definitely strange.
He shifts toward me before stretching his arm along the back of my seat. “Was that so difficult?”
“No.” Yes.
“Good. My hope is that you won’t hesitate to stop in after class or during office hours for extra help now that we’ve gotten to know each other better. Even though statistics isn’t a subject you enjoy, I want you to be successful in my class. I think with more of a tailored approach, it’s possible to raise your grade to a B.”
I almost snort out my disbelief. There’s little more than a month remaining in the semester. That’s not a lot of time. And with ramped-up rehearsals, I’m busier than ever.
When he holds out his palm, I glance at it in confusion before raising my gaze.
“Hand over your phone.”
Uncertain, I remain perfectly still.
“Come on. Give it to me. I want to add my number to your contact list. That way if you’re ever studying, and need help, you can reach out to me directly. We can even FaceTime and work on problems.”
I release a steady breath as the tension gathering in my shoulders dissolves before slipping my hand inside my bag to grab my phone. There’s another moment of hesitation as I tap in the passcode and carefully set it on his outstretched hand.
As soon as I do, he opens the texting app and inputs his name and number before hitting send. There’s a corresponding ding from his pocket before he returns the device to me. Our fingers brush and there’s an odd moment where I’m not quite sure what’s happening between us.
Are the lines of our relationship becoming blurred?
Or, like he claimed earlier, am I reading too much into what’s happening?
It’s not like Dr. Holloway is coming on to me, right?
I shove those ridiculous thoughts from my head as the need to escape the confines of the vehicle explodes inside me. Nerves scamper down my spine, making the fine hair on my arms rise to attention.
I clear my throat, only wanting to banish the odd thoughts trying to take root in my brain. “Thanks again for dinner. It’s one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time. When my mother comes for a visit, I’ll have to take her there. She would love it.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll have to do it again sometime. Dante enjoyed meeting you. I know he would love to see you again.”
“Yeah, okay.” I force out the response. I can’t deny that the evening was pleasant, but it was also a bit bizarre as well. My fingers wrap around the door handle before yanking it open. The cool night air swirls around me, and I immediately feel more settled as I slip from the vehicle.
Once my feet hit the pavement, I lift a hand to wave. After he returns the gesture, I head to the front entrance of the dorm before pulling open the door. I sneak a peek over my shoulder only to find his sleek BMW idling at the curb. As I take the elevator up to my floor, my mind replays everything that happened over the last couple of hours. I never expected the evening to end at an Italian restaurant with my professor. Once the doors slide open on the sixth floor, my nerves vanish. It makes me wonder what I had been concerned about in the first place. As I walk toward my suite at the end of the hall, a few friends wave and say hello.
I shove the key in the lock and turn the handle, glad today is finally over. As I step inside the darkness, I’m surprised by the silence that greets me. Usually, the girls will sit around in the shared living space and do homework or gossip. Instead, all three are conspicuously absent. It’s probably better that way. I’m not sure if I want to tell them about Dr. Holloway inviting me to dinner. I can just imagine it now—they’d all jump to the wrong conclusion, and I would never hear the end of it. Even though he alluded to dinners in the future, I don’t plan on it becoming a habit.