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Professor ResultofTomorrowSeries,Volume1 AutumnGaze
PublishedbyDarkShadowPublishing,2024
Thisisaworkoffiction.Similaritiestorealpeople,places,oreventsareentirelycoincidental.
PROFESSOR Firstedition.January4,2024.
Copyright©2024AutumnGaze.
WrittenbyAutumnGaze.
ALLRIGHTSRESERVED Nopartofthispublicationmay bereproduced,storedinorintroducedintoaretrievalsystem,ortransmitted,inany form,orby any means(electronic,mechanical,photocopying, recording,orotherwise)withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofboththecopyrightownerandtheabovepublisherofthisbook Thisisaworkoffiction Names,characters,places,brands,media,andincidentsareeithertheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously Any resemblancetoanactualperson,livingor dead,events,orlocalesisentirely coincidental Theauthoracknowledgesthetrademarkedstatusandtrademarkownersofvariousproductsreferencedinthisworkoffiction,whichhavebeenusedwithout permission Thepublication/useofthesetrademarksisnotauthorized,associatedwith,orsponsoredby thetrademarkowners
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RESULT OF TOMORROW SERIES Book1–Professor
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PROFESSOR BLURB YOUCANNOTESCAPETHErealityoftomorrowbyevadingittoday... WhitneyDahlonlywantedonething freedom.
Freedomtoexplore,totravel,tolivealifeoutsidetheconfinesofherfamily’seliteinnercircleofbillionairebusiness mogulsandupperEastCoastsocialites Freedomespeciallyfromarelationshipthatwasdragginghercloserandclosertothe lifeherparentsdesperatelywantedforher barefootandpregnantinsomebillionaire’skitchen.
Whitneydideverythingshecouldtokeepthemoffherback.Sheexcelledinherundergrad,graduatingvaledictorianand presidentofhersorority.ShewastheItGirloncampus,atrackstar,theoneeveryonewantedtobe,ordate.Butnowshe’sin herfirstsemesterofgraduateschool,andthepicture-perfectfaçadeshe’sbuiltoverthelastfouryearscomescrumblingdown thesecondatall,handsomemanbumpsintoherandshatterseverythingsheeverknewabouttheworldandaboutlove.
RhysEllisacceptedGatlingtonUniversity’sofferofaone-yeartenurewithouthesitation Sickofsleepingintentsand diggingforartifactsorspendinghisnightspouringovermanuscripts,beingaprofessorforayearsoundedalmostlikea vacation.Hewasexpectingabitofcultureshock.
Hewasn’texpectingadark-hairedbeautytotakehisbreathawayandstealhisheart There’soneproblem,though She’shisstudent
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CHAPTER 1 Whitney WHITNEYELIZABETH DAHL, Doctor of Philosophy in Sociology.Ithasaniceringtoit,right?
Myparentsdidn’tthinkso.Infact,theyspenttheentiresummertryingtoconvincemeIwaseducatedenough.Whywoulda girlaspretty,popular,andfilthyrichasmeneedamaster’sdegree?Letaloneadoctorate? Why,fortheloveofallthingsholy, wouldIwanttospendanotherthreetofouryearsinschoolwhenIcoulddowhatmymother,andhermother,andhermother’s motherdid?
Marryrich Laterally,ifnotup NeverworkadayinmylifeaslongasIlookedtheotherwaywhenitcametomyfuture husband’saffairs.BebarefootandpregnantinthekitchenofsomeHamptonestateandbreedthenextgenerationofhaughty billionaireswithahalfabrainwhoatleastlookgoodinanArmanisuitwhileintheboardroomofacompanytheirgreatgrandfatherbuilt.
Nope.Thatkindoflifewasneverforme.Evenfromthebeginningofmylife,IknewIwasdestinedforsomethingother thandesignerclothes,fastcars,andgardenparties Iwantedmore Ineeded more MyfatherlikedtosaythatI’veneverbeen satisfiedasingledayinmylife,andhewasright.
Ispentthesummerlyingoutbymyparents’poolintheHamptonswhilemymotherchidedmeaboutwrinklesfrombeneath herUVblockingumbrella Isippedwhitewinewhileshelistenedtoherfriendscooingandcomfortingherwhilesayingthings like,“Rachel,youpoorthing!She’llgettiredofthosebooksandmarryintotheBrockfordfamilysoonenough.”Andmy mother, poor thing,hadheldbacktearsasshewhisperedthatI’dalreadyturneddownthreeproposalsfromthemanin question.
Itwasn’tliketheywantedmetomarryChristianBrockfordbecausetheylovedhimandwantedhimtobecomepartofour family No,marriageswereabusinessarrangementifsomeonecamefromafamilylikemine Lovewas never partofthe equation.Buildingandmaintainingdynastieswasthegoldenrule.
I wanted more.
SoIdecidedtoreachoutandtakeit.
FIRST SEMESTER OF GRADUATE School “All hail the Queen, XOXO”
Ipulledthestickynotefrommybedroomdoor,smoothingitbetweenmymanicuredthumbandforefingerasInudgedmy wayinsidethebedroomI’dcalledhomesincefreshmenyear Cream-coloredwallsilluminatedbystringlightswelcomedme intothecozyspace,andthefamiliarscentofhoneysuckleandvanillabroughtmebacktothemomentI’dfirststeppedfootin theThetaNuDeltahousefouryearsago
I’dbeenstarry-eyedandshy,unsureofwhatmyfutureheld AllIknewforsurewasIwasmeanttobeatGatlington University,andIwasborntobeinThetaNuDelta.Justlikemymother,andhermother,andhermother’smother,soonandso forth
Thatmomentfeltlikeyesterdayandaneternityagoallatonce,especiallyaftercatchingmyreflectioninthemirrorovermy vanity.Iwasoldernowandwiserbutstillasbright-eyedandbushytailedasIhadbeenasanecstaticfreshmendeadseton makinganameformyself
IsetdownmyshoppingbagsonmybedandsatdowntounzipmyPradaboots.Ipatteddownmythick,blackhairthathad spenttheentiremorningrolledandpinnedinthebiggesthotrollersIcouldfind Eyebrowwax? Check Makeuponpoint? Of course.Newdesignerclothesthatwouldmaketherestofmysororitydrool? Always.
IglanceddownatmyCartierwatch goldanddustedwithlittlediamonds andfeltmystomachtightenwithanticipation. I’dcomehometoGatlingtonforonemoreyear
Ifelthappytobeback,evenifthisyearwouldbecompletelyandutterlydifferentthantherest Thank goodness
Rainpatteredthedouble-panewindowsinasteady,rhythmicthrum.ThelateAugustheatstillhuggedthehumidair,but therehadbeenadefiniteshiftintheseasonssinceI’darrivedatcampusalittleunderamonthagoafteralongsummerspent loungingatmyparents’estateintheHamptons Iunpackedmyshoppingbagsandorganizedthenotebooks,pens,and highlightersI’djustpickedupfromthecampusstore.IpackedthemintotheleathersatchelI’dbeenwearingonmyhiptoclass forthepastfouryears,andthenmovedacrosstheroomtopickthroughthemassivestackoftextbooksarrangedhaphazardlyon topofmydresser.
IcarefullyeasedmycopyofPrimitivism and Its Effect on the Modern Art Movement fromthestackandtuckeditintothe satchel,aswellasafewothersIwouldneedformyfirstdaybackoncampusasagraduatestudent
Pinch me IneverthoughtI’dgethere Notbecauseofmygrades thosewerealways stellar No,ithadnothingtodowith meormyabilitytofightmywayintoGatlington’sprestigiousgraduateschoolfortheliberalarts.Ithadeverythingtodowith myparentsandtheirinabilitytoenvisionmylifeasanythingmorethanarichhousewife
GoingtoGatlingtonUniversityforcollegehadbeennonnegotiableforthem,butonlybecauseitwasanopportunityforme tomeetmyfuturehusband.Someone,theyhoped,whoalreadyranwithintheelitesocialcirclestheywereaccustomedto. Mygettingarealeducationwaslikelyattheverybottomoftheirlist.
Ididn’tdwellonthatfactI’ddisappointedthem.Imean,howcouldanyonebedisappointedthattheirchildgotintograd school?
I’m doing this for me, and I’m damn proud.
“Allright,let’sdothis,”Isaidtomyselfinthemirror,adjustingmymakeuponcemore.ThesmokyeyeI’dperfectedover thecourseofseveralyearsreallymademygreeneyespop.Frecklesdustedmynosefromasummerspentlyingoutatmy parents’pool.
Yes,Ilookedgreat.Ifeltgreat.AndIwasreadytostepoutoncampusasagraduatestudentforthefirsttimeandshedthe carefullycraftedpersonaI’dspentseverallong,arduoussemestersofmyundergradbuilding.
Onceuponatime,Iwasthe It Girl oncampus.Presidentofmysorority.Trackstar.Lovedbythestudentsandprofessors alike.
Ihostedparties.Iorganizedcharityballseveryspring.Ivolunteeredmytimeasatutor.
IdidwhatIneededtodotogethere,tothisverymoment,butnowIneededtogetserious.
Hikingmysatchelacrossmychest,ImademywaythroughthenarrowhallsoftheThetaNuDeltahouse.Theoldbrick mansionwasamazeofbedroomsandstudyspacesthatIknewlikethebackofmyhand
“Ugh,Whitney,isthatthisseason’sChanel?Thatjacketistodiefor!”
“Youknowitis Herdadalwaysgetsherthebeststuff Ibetthat’sstraightofftherunway”
“Thanks.”IgrinnedattwoofmysororitysistersasIpassedthemonthestairs.“I’llseeyouatthechaptermeetingtonight. Bignight,Ithink”IwinkedatMelissa,ableachedblondbeautywhohappenedtobeintherunningforsororitypresidentthis year.
Inpassing,Iheardsomeonesay,“Bigshoestofill,Lissa,”andthenMelissa’sincoherentgrumblebeforetheirvoicesfaded andIsteppedoutintothedrizzleandstartedwalkingdownGreekRowandtowardcampus
GatlingtonwasoneoftheoldestuniversitiesintheUnitedStates WhilenotIvyLeague,theadmissionswerefiercely competitive,andtheonlysurewaytogetinwastohavefamilyasalumni.
Ismiledandwavedatvariousacquaintances.Idirectedgroupsofdazed-lookingfreshmentothebuildingswheretheirfirst classeswouldbeheld ThenIwalkedintothecommonsbuildingandsetatrajectoryforthecoffeeshop,whereoneofmy dearestfriends,andmy“little”inoursorority,saidshe’dbewaiting.
NicolewasalreadysetupatatablenearoneoftheceilingheightwindowsoverlookingthecourtyardwhenIarrivedand hungmybagoverthebackofthechair
“EarlGreyteawithhoneyandmilk”Shebeamed,slidingthecuptowardmeasIsatdown
Nicoletuckedherdarkblondhairbehindherearsbeforesippingfromtheeight-dollaricedlatteinfrontofher.Herdeep browneyesscannedthecrowdedcafé,tuckedawayinthecornerofthecommons,anancientstonebuildingthreestoriestall andlikelyinhabitedbyghosts
“Lookingforsomeone?”Iasked,smilingslylyasIbroughtmyteatomylips.Bergamotandvanillacutthroughtheheavy scentofwetstone,parchment,andfreshlygroundcoffee.
“Freshblood,Iguess.”Shesighedheavilyandturnedherattentionbacktome.“You’resolucky,Whit.Youfoundoneof theonlygoodonesandsnatchedhimupbeforeanyoneelsecould.DatingatGatlingtonisliketryingtogetaninvitationtothe MetGala. Impossible. ”
True.EveryonekneweveryoneatGatlington.“Comeon,Nicky!It’syoursenioryear.Shouldn’tyoubefocusedon graduating?”
“Ringbyspring?Everheardofit?”Sherolledhereyesandswirledherstraw,makinglittlescrapingsoundsthatmademe wanttoclawatmyears.Sheglanceddownatmyringlesslefthandandarchedabrow.“IguessIwon’tbethefirstwomanto graduatewithoutasix-caratheirloomdiamondringweighingdownmyhand.”
“Gettingmarriedisn’tthepointofgoingtocollege ”
“Thenwhatis?HowelseamIgoingtomeetthesonofawrinklyoldbillionaire?”
Irolledmyeyesandleanedbackinmychair,givingherafelinegrinovertherimofmycup.Nicoleexhaleddeeplyand tappedherfingernailsonthetable.
“Enoughaboutmeandmytrials.”Sheyawned,lookingmorethandefeated.“HowareyouandChristian?Didn’theflyin, like,yesterday?”
“We’refine,andyeah.Ithinkso.Ihaven’tseenhimyet.”ChristianBrockford,thekingofcampus,presidentofhis fraternityandstarlacrosseplayerandIhadbeendatingsincemysophomoreyear.Christianwasayearbehindme,currentlya senior.Blondhair,babyblueeyes,andabodybuiltlikeabrickwall,hewasthemostpopularguyaround,andI’dbeenonhis armforthreeyears,bidingmytimetomakearunforit.
Itsoundsawful,Iknow,butIneverenvisionedmyselfsettlingdownandplanningfrivolousgardenpartieswhileour nanniespushedourchildreninstrollersaroundsomeaffluent,gatedcommunity.Atleast,notyet.Myplansforaftercollege
didn’tinvolvethat,orhim.
I’dtriedtotellhimthatthissummerwhenheproposedtomeandIturnedhimdown.He’djustgivenmethatcharming smileandpattedmeontheheadlikeadog,tellingmehe’dwaitformetocomebacktotherealworldafteryearsspentburying mynoseinuselesstextbooksaboutartandsociology,twothingsheknewabsolutelynothingabout.
Unlessithadsomethingtodowithsports,beer,orfastcars,Christianwasuninterested. Havinghimaroundkeptmyparentsoffmyass,though.
“Melissaisgoingtobevotedinaspresidentofthesororitytonight.I’llbeatthemeetingasanadvisor.”Ichangedthe subjectandglanceddownatmywatchbeforequicklystartingtogathermythings “You’reashoe-inforrecruitmentchair,you know,afteryourperformanceduringbidweek.”
“Oh,crap.Idon’tevenwanttothinkaboutit,”Nicolereplied,thenslurpedloudlyfromhericedcoffee.“ThelastthingI needistositontheboardthisyear Plus,Ihatethatyou’restilllivinginthehousebutnotincontrolofitanymore Melissa onlywantstobepresidentbecausehermompromisedhernewtitsifshegottherole!”
Inearlychokedonmytea.“You’llbefine,allofyou.It’snotlikeImovedoffcampus.I’mjustnot...I’mnotanundergrad anymore It’stimetopassthetorch I’llseeyoulater,okay?”
“Fine Havefuninyourfancygraduateclasses!”Nicolecrossedherarmsunderherbreastsandpouted
Iwalkedaway,tossingmyemptypapercupintoarecyclingbinandbalancingmyheavytextbooksinmyarmswhileI walkedthroughthecommonsandbackoutside.Thecourtyardwasfullofstudents,especiallyfreshman,allofthemgiddywith excitementwhilegatheringinsmall,nervousgroups SomegroupsstoppedtheirchatteringasIpassedthembyandstaredasif inawe.
Iwasfullyawareofmyreputation.Theydidn’tcallmethequeenfornothing.
IreachedHollisHall,thebuildingthathousedthelecturehallswheremyclasseswouldtakeplacethissemester.Hollis Hallstoodfourstoriestallandwastotallymadeofbrickcoveredwithcrawlingivy Stainedglasswindowscastlong, multicoloredshadowsoverthesidewalkasIwalkedupthestepsandenteredthebuildingI’dbeendroolingoversincemyfirst dayoncampus
Thewholebuildingsmelledlikeinkandparchment Iwalkedoverthesamestonesgenerationsofscholarsandhistorians hadtreadupon.
Ismileddespitemyself.Thiswasmydreamcometrue.Me,agraduatestudent.Me,onedayclosertoeventuallyhavinga doctoratedegree Iturnedasharpcornerandstarteddownanarrowhallwaylinedwithofficesbelongingtothegraduatestaff Thrummingwithnervousexcitement,Ididn’tnoticethesuddenflashofmovementandliftedvoicesasIwovethroughthe crowdedhallway.Ididn’tnoticethestudentsinfrontofmewhosuddenlyskippedoutofthewayasadooropenedrightin frontofusandamanbackedoutofthethresholdandintothehallway,hisvoiceliftedinadeep,raspinglaugh ABritishaccent filledtheairinfrontofme,andtimestoodstill,myworldeffectivelytiltingonitsaxis.
Or,maybeitwasjustme tilting,becauseIranrightintohimandfellbackward,mybooksslidingfrommyarmsand thuddingtothefloor Iyelpedinsurprise,andawarm,largehandclaspedmyarmandstoppedmefromlandingonmyass
Rhys ILIFTEDTHESMALL,dark-hairedwomanuprightbythearm.Sheglaredupatme,herangularfacetwistedinascowland darkgreeneyesblazingwithrighteousfury
Shewas,handsdown,oneofthemostbeautifulthingsI’deverseeninmylife
“Watchwhereyou’regoing!”shesnapped,yankingherarmoutofmygrasp “Youcan’tjustbackoutofdoorwayslike that.”
“Whatareyoudoinghere,anyway?Thisbuildingisforgraduateclassesonly.”Sheflippedherhairoverhershoulder,her booksstillscatteredatherfeet
Ibenttopickupherbooks,ignoringherscoffandprotestsasIstackedtheheavytextbooksinherarms Iheldontoone, turningittolookatthespine,andhandeditbacktoherwithasmirk.“Afanofsociology?”Iasked.
Shescrewedupherfaceinascowlandwhirledbackaround,stompingoffdownthehall.
AchuckleinthedoorwayI’djustcomeoutofcaughtmyattention.IturnedtoDr.DanMontague,amanofroughlyforty,as hemotionedmebackinsidehissnugoffice
“Ishouldhavewarnedyouaboutthemorningrush,”helaughed,sittingbackdownbehindhisdesk.“Maybeyoushould waitawhile.”
“Mightaswell.”Ishrugged,sittingdownatthechairinfrontofhisdesk.Hisofficewassmallandcozy,allstoneanddark woodlikeeveryotherroomoncampus.
I’dbeenhereforafewweeksbutstillfeltlikeafishoutofwater.WhileI’dbeentotheUnitedStatesonafewdifferent occasionsforconferencesandthelike,Ihadn’teverspentthismuchtimeintheStates,norhadIspenttimeonanAmerican collegecampusforverylong.
MyfriendsandcolleaguesbackinEnglandhadwarnedmeabouttheraucousparties,secretsocieties,andwildstudents. ButIknewwithoutashadowofadoubtthatIhadtoacceptGatlingtonUniversity’sofferforayear-longtenure.Forthenext year,I’dbefreefromtherestraintsoftravelandtheextensiveandsometimestediousnatureofmyresearch.
“Well,youmetWhitneyDahl.”Dansmirked.HepouredcoffeefromhisdarkGreekthermos.Heneverwentanywhere withoutit.
“Who?”
“Thegirlyoujustmoweddowninthehallway.”Helaughed,bringinghiscoffeemugtohislips.“WhitneyDahl,the daughterofaerospacetycoonAlbertDahlandhiswealthy,old-moneywife,RachelDahl,neeRothschild.”Heliftedhisbrows asifIunderstoodadamnthinghesaid.“She’sthequeenhere,justsoyouknow.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Icouldn’thelpbutlaughasIthoughtaboutthewomaninthehallway.
“She’sbeenrunningthisentirecampussinceherfreshmenyear,”hebegan,swivelingbackandforthinhischair.“Let’ssee. Shewascaptainofthetrackteam,satonhersororityhouse’sboardandwaspresidentofThetaNuDeltalastyear.She occasionallyworksforthechancellor,planningcharitypartiesandsuch.Basically,sheknowseveryoneandeverything.She’s abrightstudent,ontopofit.Graduatedattheverytopofherclasslastyear.”
“Soshe’sagraduatestudent?”
“Oh,yes.Ianticipateshe’llmoveontoadoctorateafterthisyear.”Heexhaleddeeply.“Ihadherinafewofmyclasses duringherundergrad Again,she’sbright Atop-notchstudent Thekindyouwantinyourclassroomsaslongasyoudon’tlet hertakeover.I’vebeentryingtosecureherasaTAforawhilenow,butshe’sintosociology,anthropology,history...whatelse didshestudyduringherundergrad?Arthistory,Ibelieve,isherfavorite”
“Howdidsheevenhavetimeforclass?”Iasked,beyondcurious Danseemedpleasedenoughtocontinuethe conversation.
“Beatsme.”Heleanedforward,pressinghisfingertipstothedesk.“RememberhowIsaidGatlington’sstudentbodywas uniqueinthatmostofthesestudentsareherebecausetheirparents,orgrandparents,wereoncestudentshere?”
Inodded HowcouldIforget?I’dspentthemorninginhisofficeallowinghimtohelpmeprepareforwhathesaidwould betheultimatecultureshock.GatlingtonUniversityshouldhavebeenanIvyLeagueschool.Itwasterriblyhardtogetintoand wasrenownedforitsdegreeprograms,especiallyinbusiness,law,andthesocialsciences
Theadmissionsprocesswasuniqueinthatonlyaselectfewoutliers thosewhodidn’thavefamilydonatingmassive amountsofmoneytotheschool madeitineveryyear.HighlycompetitiveandestablishedbeforetheAmericanRevolution, GatlingtonwasahistoriccampuslocatedinahistoriccollegetownbythesamenameinUpstateNewYork
Iwasalong,longwayfromOxford
“Shecouldhavemadeitinonherownwithoutherparents’help.She’satoughkid,sharpasatack,andshe’llrailroadyou andtakeoveryourclassthesecondyouslipup,sobeonyourtoes.”
“Me?”Ilaughed.“I’msureIcanhandleher.”Uneasetightenedmychest,however.EspeciallynowthatDanwasgivingme aknowinggrinasheshookhishead.
“Good,becauseshe’soneofyourgraduatestudentsthisyear.”
Great.“Wellthen,I’mofftoagreatstartalreadywithher.” Dansmiledandwavedhishandindismissal.
“Theseoldbuildingsandtheirnarrowhallways...Notyourfault.I’veknockedintoastudentortwooverthelastdecade andbeenmoweddownbymyfairshareofthem,too.”
Theclockonthewallstruckten,andIsigheddeeplyasIrose Ihadmyfirstgraduatelevellectureintwohours
“Thanksformeetingwithmethismorning,”IsaidasItookmyleave,thistimeslowlyopeningthedoorandcheckingthe hallwaybeforesteppingout.
“Noproblem.Goodluck,Rhys.”
IshuthisofficedoorandcheckedmywatchasIwalkedtowardthelecturehallwhereI’dbeteachingthegraduatestudents intheSociologyandHistoryDepartmentsthisyear Ialsohadafewentrylevelsociologyclassestoteach,buttheyallcatered tothemoremodernsocialsciences.Myexpertisewasinthestudyoftheancients thearts,thesciences,andthemovementsof peoplelosttotime
I’dgraduatedfromOxfordwithmydoctorateinarcheologyfiveyearsago Beforethat,I’dpursueddualmastersin sociologyandhistory,unabletodecidebetweenthetwo.AllIknewduringmyuniversitydayswasthatIwantedtogointo research,soIdid,butI’dburnedoutquickerthanIthoughtafterseveralyearsinthefield
AsingleyeartenureatanAmericanuniversitysoundedlikeavacationcomparedtotrekkingthroughtheScottishhighlands inthepouringrainorscouringthedesertinEgyptwhiletherelentlesssunbeatdownonmyback.
Ipulledasetofkeysoutofthepocketofmybrownleatherjacketandunlockedthedoortothelecturehallthatwouldbe myhometurfuntilnextMay
Liketherestofthebuildingsoncampus,thestonesandmasonryoftheexteriorbledintotheroom Eightrowsofseating liftedaboveaplatformatthebaseoftheroomwhereatableandpodiumsat darkwoodagainstrichredandemeraldgreen wallpaperseparatedbybeamsandexposedstone I’dlecturedatafewuniversitiesintheStates Mostofthemweremodern, shiny,new,andwashedwithflorescentlighting.
NotGatlington.Infact,I’dheardmyfairshareofghoststoriesfromthestudentsandstaffI’dtalkedtooverthecourseof notonlytheday,butthefewweeksI’dbeenlivingoncampuspreparingforthisveryday
I’dbeengivenasmallcottageoncampus,andafterspendingseveralnightsthere,ItendedtobelievetheghoststoriesI’d beentold.Thecampuswasthedefinitionofdarkacademia.
WhitneyDahlwithherlong,darkhairandunbelievablegreeneyeslookedlikeshefitrightin.
Iblinked,settingdownmylaptopandclassmaterials,shakingherfrommymind.Shewasn’tthefirstpersontothinkIwas afellowstudent Evensomeofthefacultychidedmeforwalkingthroughfacultyhousingafewtimesbeforetheygotusedto seeingmearound.
Atonlythirty-three,Iwasoneoftheyoungestprofessorsoncampus.
IspentthenexthourorsogoingovermynotesandthecurriculumIplannedtoteachthisclassinparticular.Sociology whenitoverlappedwithhistorymeantchallengingeverythingoneknewaboutsocietyasawhole.Howdidwebecomewhat weareinthemodernage,andwhatwouldwebeonehundred,twohundred,evenfivehundredyearsfromnowbasedonwhat wewerebefore?
That’swhatmystudentswouldtheorize,andthosetheorieswouldturnintotermpapersbytheendofsemester,and possiblyintoathesisiftheyweremastersofsociologystudents.
My11:45a.m.classbegantotricklein.Ididn’tstepdownofftheplatformtosayhelloorgreetthem.Iwasn’tthatkindof professor.Iwasheretoteach,nottohaveagoodtimeormakefriends.
Aflashofravenblackcaughtmyeye.WhitneyDahlwalkedbywithoutlookingatme,herheadbentasshefumbledwith hercellphoneandsliditbackintothewornshoulderbagshecarriedherbooksin.Ifollowedherwithmyeyes,noticingthat shelikedtositintheverymiddleofthestands,rightinthecenteroftheroom.Shestartedpullingherbooksoutonebyone, thensetherlaptopdowninfrontofher.Iwaited,andwaited,forhertonoticeme.
Whenshedid,Ihadtofighttostopmyselffromsmirkingather.Shockplayedacrossherstartlinglybeautifulfaceand didn’tfalterasIlefttheplatform,glancedatmywatch,andwalkedtothedoor.Ilockeditandturnedtothescatteredgraduated studentsinthestands.
“Idon’ttoleratetardiness,”IsaidfirmlyasIwalkedbacktotheplatformandgrabbedapieceofchalk,weighingitinmy hands.IlikedthatGatlingtonhadn’treplacedtheiroldchalkboardsforthemorepopularwhiteboards,atleastinthemajority oftheirclassrooms.
Iwrotemynameontheboard Doctor Rhys Ellis Doctor of Archeology and Sociology.Theirnewprofessor.
WhenIturnedaround,ImadeofpointoflookingateachofthembeforesettlingmygazeonWhitney,whosatstillandpale, onedarkbrowraisedinsurprise.
“WelcometoSocietalTheories.”
CHAPTER 3 Whitney PROFESSOR ELLIS. Ileanedbackinmychairandwatchedashegotstraighttobusiness.Apresentationflaredacrossthedrop-downprojector screen,castingablue-huedglowacrosstherowsandrowsofstadium-likeseating Hedidn’tusethepodiumormicrophone No,hedidn’tneedto.Hisvoicecarriedthroughthelecturehallwithease,histhickaccentcuttingthroughtheshockedhazeI foughttoclawmywayoutof
Therehadtobesomemistake Thismancouldn’thavebeenmorethanthirty Inarrowedmyeyesonhimashewalkedback andforth,talkingaboutwhatweshouldexpecttocoverduringthesemester.
Noway. No freaking way.I’dheardaboutProfessorEllis.I’dreadhisresearchpapersoninterpretivesociologyandhis publishedopinionsonthephilosophicbeginningsofculture,gender,andart Iknewhe’dbeteachingthisclassthisyear But I’dneverseenapictureofhim.I’dimaginedhimoldandgraywithalongbeardandbottle-capglasses,sittingbehinda clutteredduskinastudytuckedonsomeremote,wind-blownisland
Notthis
Dark,slightlycurlybrownhairfelloverhisears Hekeptitruffled,notbotheringtosweepitbackfromhisface Hisjaw waswideandsharp,exquisitelychiseledandshadedbyafiveo’clockshadowlikehehadn’tbotheredtoshavethismorning. Tallandwellbuilt,hehadbroadshouldersandataperedwaist Dressedinacream-coloredbutton-downanddarkbrown trousers,itwasimpossibletonotnoticethewaythefabrichuggedthemusclesbeneath.
Hewastanlikehe’dspentagreatdealoftimeinthesunthissummer,andfrecklesdottedthebridgeofhisnoseandhigh cheekbones
Butwhatwasmoststartlingwerehiseyes abright,bluishhazelfannedbydarklashesaboveasharpnoseandwide mouth.
Heworeglasses,whichonlyaddedtohisfeatures.Icouldn’thelpbutstareathimforamomentlongerbeforesnapping backtorealityandtryinghardtostiflemyblush
Iglancedtomyrightandnoticedsimilarlooksofshockandaweonthefacesofmyclassmates,allofthemjustas enrapturedasIwas.
Sighing,Ipulledoutmylaptopandopeneditwithdramaticflair.
Well,Icouldn’tspendthe entire semesterdroolingoverhim.Icouldlookhimupintheprivacyofmybedroomandscour theInternetforanymentionofhimwithouthimhavingthesatisfactionofcatchingmeintheactofdoubtinghisqualificationsto teachamaster’slevelclasssuchasthis.Butfornow,Ineededtopayattentiontothescreenandnottohowwellhistrousers fit
Whatwaswrongwithme?I’vehadcountlessprofessors,someofthemincrediblyhandsomeandcharming,andneverfelt myselftakenabackandoff-kilterlikethis.SomethingaboutProfessorEllis’sharptoneasheintroducedhimselfandtheway hismusclesstrainedinhisbutton-downshirthadmecurlingmytoesandfindingithardtostayfocused
Finally,classdrewtoaclose Liketherestofmyclassestoday,we’donlycoveredthesyllabus,whichhadbeen excessivelyextensive.ProfessorEllisknewhisstuffandwantedustoknowthat.Hespecificallywantedmetoknowthat basedonthesidelongglanceshecastinmydirectionthroughoutthetwo-hourlonglecture
Iwalkedrightpasthimandoutofthelecturehallwithoutalookinhisdirection.
Therainfromearlierinthedayhadn’tletupasIcrossedthecourtyardandbeelinedtowardthecommons.Asteadystream ofstudentsflowedbetweenandaroundthestonebuildingswiththeirstainedglasswindowsandthedensevinesthatsnakedup thegraystones.Itwasagloomyday,everythingcastinadrearysilverglow.Theonlypopsofcolorcamefromthosesmart enoughtocarrytheirumbrellasfromclasstoclass,theirheadsbentandhoodssnugagainsttheirearsasthewindpickedup andswepttheraininamyriadofdifferentdirections.
IcursedundermybreathasIsidesteppedthegroupsofstudentsmillingaboutinthecoveredentrancetothecommons.My jacketwassoakedthroughfrommyshortwalkbeneaththesycamoretreesthatsurroundedthecourtyard Ihadapproximately onehouruntilmynextclass,andIwasstarvingbythetimeIfoundaquietcornertabletuckedagainstoneoftheancientstained glasswindows Isetdownmytextbooksandshookoutmytiredarms,thenshruggedoffmyjacketandhungitoverthebackof thechair.ThecafeteriainthecommonswasnotnearlyasbusyasIexpectedittobe,andIfoundmywaytothesaladbar withoutrunningintoanyoneIknewwellenoughtostopandgetintoaconversationwith,muchtomyrelief
Grabbingoneofthebowlsattheendofthebuffet,IletoutthebreathIhadn’trealizedI’dbeenholdingsinceProfessor Elliswalkedintothelecturehall.
ButthenIsuckeditbackinandyelpedinsurpriseasbulkyhandsclaspedaroundmymiddleandspunmeinanawkward circle ThesaladI’djustputinmybowllandedinmylapanddustedthefloorwhenmyassailantfinallyputmedownandlet mego.
Christianropedanarmaroundmyshoulderandpulledmeintohischest,placingasloppykissonmyhairline.“Letgoof me,Christian!”Ihissed,havingtoduckoutofhisgrasp MuffledlaughtersplittheairaroundmeasIbenttopickupthefallen piecesofspinachnowscatteredaroundmyfeet.Mycheeksburnedwithaheated,angryblush.
“Comeon,Whit.Don’tbelikethat!”
“Don’tmanhandlemeinpublic,”IsaidwithasmuchcalmasIcouldmuster.Istraightenedupandsteppedaroundhim, dumpingthefloorsaladintothetrashcanattheendofthebuffetandsettingmynowdirtybowlinthedishcontainer “Soserious all the time,”hechided IcouldhearthefacthewasrollinghiseyeseventhoughIhadmybackturnedtohim Hisfriends thelittleposseofjocksandfratbrothersheranwithoncampusyearafteryear snickeredatmyexpenseashe continued,“Ihaven’tseenherinages You’dthinkI’dbetheonehavingtopryherhandsoffofme”
Myblushdeepened,andIkeptmybackturnedtothegroup,grabbingafreshbowlfromthepileandbeginningmysecond attemptataquicklunch.
ChristiancontinuedtalkingasifIwasn’tthere.“She’sjustplayinghardtoget.Youknowhowthose intellectuals are.” Itightenedmygriponmysaladbowlandmoveddownthebuffet.
“Ourkidsaregoingtobesoluckytohavesuchasmartmomat home.They’llbeashoe-inforRadcliffAcademyifshe’s theonewritingtheirpreschoolentranceletters.”
Iwasalmosttotheendofthebuffetandreachingforabottleofdressingwhenhegrabbedmefrombehindasecondtime. ThesaladbowlclatteredtothefloorasChristiansmoochedmycheek,hisroughblondstubblescratchingmysensitiveskin.He pattedmyasspossessively,saying,“Seeyouatthepartytonight,babe.Don’tbelate.Justbecauseyou’reabig,badgraduate studentnowdoesn’tmeanIdon’texpectyouinatightdressandonmyarmwhileIplaybeerpong.”
Heletmegoandwalkedoff,laughingwithhismindlessfriends,whileIstareddownatthemessI’djustmade.Themess I’dbeenlivinginandallowingtocontinueforthreeyears
Ifelttheeeriesensationofbeingwatchedandlookedup.
ProfessorEllisleanedagainstthewallonthefarsideoftheroom,hisbodypartlyshadowedashespokewithanother professor Hemetmyeyes,holdingmygazeforwhatfeltlikeaneternitybeforehefinallylookedawayandnoddedatwhatever theotherprofessorhadsaid.
Mortificationrippedthroughmelikeatidalwave.
“Don’tworryaboutit,honey,”cameawarm,femininevoicebehindme.Iturnedtofindoneofthecafeteriaworkers,an elderlywomanwithakindfaceandtortoise-rimglasses,standingbroominhandonlyafewfeetfromwhereIstood “Iamsosorry,”IcroakedbeforesteelingmyexpressionandscurryingbacktowhereI’dleftmytextbooks
Ishruggedonmyjacket,cursingChristianandhismotleycrewofbrainlessjocks Igaveuponlunchaltogetherand gatheredmybooksbutstoppedtolookovermyshoulderbeforeleavingthecommons.ProfessorEllisstillleanedcasually againstthewall,talkingtohiscolleague Heturnedhishead,hisdarkcurlstremblingwiththemovementashemetmygaze Hisarchedabrowandnodded,holdingmygazeasiftosilentlyaskifIwasokay. Inoddedbackandleft.
IHADN’TBEENPLANNINGtogotothepartyattheAlphaChiOmegahouse,Christian’sfraternity.Infact,Ichangedinto shortsandasportsbraandproppedoneofmytextbooksontheStairmasterinthesororityhouse’sgymandzonedout completely.Butthepregamingwasalreadyinfullswingallaroundme.Theconstant,excitedchatterbrokemefrommytrance afteronlyhalfanhour,andnotallofitwasabouttheimpendingpartydowntheblock
TurnedoutProfessorEllisdidn’tonlyteachgraduatelevelclasses,andIhadn’tbeentheonlyonetransfixedbyhisgood looks.
“He’ssodreamy,”oneofmysororitysisterssaidasshepouredcheapmargaritamixintoaredplasticcup.“Don’tevenget mestartedonhisaccent”Sherolledhereyesandwinkedathercompanions,allofwhomwerehuddledneartheentranceto thegym.
Thewholehousewasspillingoverwithwomen,nocornerleftunoccupied,andeveryoneingiddyspiritsforthefirstreal partyoftheterm And,ofcourse,everyoneseemedtobegossipingaboutthenewhotprofessoroncampus
“IheardhewenttoOxford”
“Well,IheardhehashisPhD”
“Ofcourse,hedoes!Hewouldn’tbeteachinghereifhedidn’t!”
“Whodoyouthinkisgoingtotrytheirluckonhimfirst?JaneorRebecca?”
“Rebeccaalreadysaidshepurposefullydroppedhertextbooksinfrontofhim,buthedidn’tevenmakeamovetohelpher! Canyouimagine?”
LaughterbrokethroughthethrumofthemusicinmyearsasIfoughtforfocus.ProfessorEllishadhelped me whenI’d droppedmybooks Well,he’dbeentheonetoknockthemcleanoutofmyhands Whatwasthisoddfeeling?Jealousy?
Ismirkedandshookmyheadatthethought
ItwasnosurprisethateveryoneintheThetaNuDeltahouse thoserequiredtotakeasociologyorphilosophycourse werelustingoverthemysteriousProfessorEllis.Handsome,charming,andincrediblyyoungcomparedtorestofthemale professorsoncampus,hewastheperfectcatch Hewasalsototallyofflimits,whichwouldinevitablymakepeoplewanthim allthemore.
TheycouldhavehimforallIcared.Iwashereforonemoreyear.Thatwasthat.Ihadnotimenordesiretoputmy educationandreputationonthelineforaforbiddenflingwithaprofessor
“Whitney!”
Iflinched,myheartskippingabeatasIgrippedthehandlesoftheStairmasterandlookeddowntofindNicolebouncingon hertoesholdingtworedcupsoverflowingwiththesticky,neongreenmargaritamixIcouldprobablytasteinmydreamsatthis point
“Whatareyoudoing?We’reallabouttoleavetogototheAlphaChiOmegahouse!Theyjusthadthekegsdelivered!”
“I’mgoingtostayinandstudytonight.”
Herfacecontortedwithahuge,exaggeratedfrown.“Don’tbelame,Whitney.Comeon,it’llbefun!”
Ireallydidn’twanttogo.Ilookedbackatthegroupofwomenwho’dbeentalkingaboutProfessorEllis.Theywereright. Hewastrulythetalkofcampusrightnow,andevenIfoundithardtonotthinkabouthim.Handsome,witty,withthatdevilishly charmingsmile...
“Ugh!”Ishookmyheadandflippedtheoffswitch,steppingdown.“Isoneofthoseforme?”
Nicolegrinnedandhandedmeamargarita.Idrankdeeply,lettingthetequilacoilitswaythroughmyveinsandprayedit wouldwipeProfessorEllisclearawayfrommymind,atleastuntilIsawhimagain.
“Fine,let’sgo.ButI’monlyhavingonedrinktonight.”
Rhys THEGATLINGTONCAMPUSatnightwaslikesomethingoutofadrearyperioddrama.FogsnakedovermyshoesasI walkedbrisklydownanill-litbiketraillinedwithsycamoretrees Thedampairhuggedmyskinandleftasilversheenonmy brownleatherjacket.IalmostbelievedIwasindangerofsomethingjumpingoutofthefog-coveredpathwayanddraggingme offintothenight,butI’dbeentoscarierplaces Darkerplaces,olderplaces,placeswithsordidhistoriesthatpredatedthis countryentirely.
ThethingthatscaredmemostaboutGatlingtonwasitsstudentbody,andrightnow,thecampuswasalivewithmusic, parties,andadeepelectronicthrumthatranthroughthetrailsweavingthroughtheneighborhoodsoftownhomes,dormitories, andtheinfamous Greek Row.
ThatwasaplaceIavoidedifIcould.EveninthefewweeksI’dbeeninresidence,GreekRowhadproventobeloudand rowdy I’dbeenwarnedbymyfellowsatOxfordandonvariousresearchexpeditionsabouttheuniversitycultureinAmerica, butseeingitandhearingrumorsaboutitweretwoentirelydifferentthings.
IshiftedthebagsofgroceriesIcarriedoneacharmandcontinuedmyjourneyacrosscampus.Gatlingtonstoodrightinthe centerofasmallcollegetowninupstateNewYork Thetreesherewerealreadyturningapalegold,andtheairwassharpand chilleddespiteitonlybeingSeptember.
Still,afteralongdayspentgoingovereverysinglesyllabusforalleightoftheclassesI’dbeteachingperweek,along walkthroughthecolddarkwasjustwhatthedoctorordered
Icametoaforkinthepath;onesidesplittingofftowardthecommons,classrooms,andlecturehalls,andtheotherleading deeperintothemazeoftreesthatseparatedthemainbuildingsofcampustotheneighborhoodswerethestudentsandstaff lived Someofthestaff,ofcourse,livedoff-campus,buttherewasasmallareaofcottage-likebuildingstuckedbehindoneof thelecturehallsdesignatedforstaffuseonly.
Ihadmyownplaceforthefirsttimeinmylife.Normally,I’dbebunkingdowninacanvastentwithsixothermen,allofus sleepingeitheroncotsoronthegroundwithourrucksacksaspillowsandnoblanketstobeseen Orinmyuniversityyears, I’dshareadormoraflatwitharoommate,sometimesmorethanone.
Iwasn’tusedtothequietbroughtonbylivingalone,butwasn’tthatpartofthereasonI’dtakenthisjobinthefirstplace?
Quiet.Aslower,moresedatewayoflife.Ayearoutsideoftheconfinesofresearchanddiscovery.
Eventually,thepathwidened,andthefirstinklingsofflashinglightspeekedthroughthethickfog.GreekRowroseup throughthecoilsofmist,lightsdancingandmusicwaftingtowardmeinawildfrenzyofnoiseandcolor Istoppedfora momentandlookedatthehousesthatmadeupthesingleblock,sixorsostoneandbrickmansionsbearingtheflagsofthe fraternitiesandsororitieswhocalledthemhome
WhitneyDahlbelongedtooneofthem whatwasit?ThetaNuDelta?Inarrowedmyeyes,wonderingwhichhouseshe’d ruledasqueenduringherundergradyears,butthenkeptwalking,notwantingtocomeacrossstudentsopenlybreakingcampus rulesandmostdefinitelynotwantingtocontinuethinkingaboutmystudent
That’swhatWhitneywas astudent Notsomethingtodrooloverandspendallmyfreetimethinkingabout Still,after ProfessorMontaguehadfilledmeinonWhitney’shistoryattheschool,Ihadmorequestionsthananswersabouttheenigmaof
thewomanwho’dbetakingoneofmygraduateclassesthisyear,thesameclassthathadbeenthereasonI’dtakenthe university’soffertocometeachforayear
Shakingthethoughtofherfrommymind,IcontinuedbrisklydownthepathbuthaltedafteronlyafewstepswhenIheard thesoundofcrunchingtwigsassomeone,orsomething,cutthroughthetreesandontothebikepathinfrontofme.Theyhadn’t seenmeandwerewalkinghastilythroughthedarktowardthecenterofcampus
MyheartratereturnedtonormalwhenIcametotheconclusionitwasjustastudentheadedtothelibrary,whichwasopen allnight,yearround.
Butthenaroughsnapcutthroughtheair,andthepersonhissedinsurpriseastheshoulderbagtheyhadslungoverone shoulderbrokeapart,thestrapcomingcompletelyundoneandthebagfallingtotheground Ibrokeintoajogandreachedtheminamatterofseconds,stoopingtopickupthenotebooksandpensthathadscatteredon thegroundanddisappearedunderthethicklayeroffog.
“Notagreatnighttodropanythingthissmall,”Isaidlightly,feelingarounduntilmyfingersgraspedthelastofthepensand highlighters
Iroseandhandedthepersonthepensandgotagoodlookattheirfaceforthefirsttime WhitneyDahlslippedthepensinto hershoulderbag,whichshenowhadtocradleinherarms.Hereyesmetmine,illuminatedbythesoftamberglowofthe streetlightpouringthroughthetrees Shadowsdancedovertheangularcurveofhercheekbonesandsharp,proudnose “Ikeepdroppingeverythingtoday,”shesaidafteramoment Shesniffed,thetipofhernoseabrightpinkfromthecold “Thanks.”
“It’snotaproblem.”
Istraightenedupandlookeddownather,rememberingtheincidentinthecommonstodayafterclass.Aman,whoI assumedmighthavebeenherboyfriend,hadmanhandledherinpublic I’dseenthewholething,andsohadmanyothers,butno onehadmadeanymovestodoanythingaboutit.I’dbeenspeakingwithanotherprofessor,andhe’dturnedhisheadtofollow mylineofsight
“Christian Brockford,” Professor Hendricks said with a shrug, turning his attention back to me “He’s one of my business majors. Wants to go into law, from what I understand. He has a single brain cell, and its only function is to call his dad whenever he doesn’t get his way ”
Thememoryoftheconversationfaded,andWhitneycamebacktotheforefrontofmymind Shewatchedmeclosely, lookingupatmewithwhatcouldbedescribedassuspicion,butwhenImethergaze,shesimplygavemeatight-lippedsmile.
Ihadtofightagainstthesuddeninstinctualurgetobrushtheglitterthatdustedthetopofherheadandstucktothelonglocks ofdarkhairthatfelloverhershoulders Shewasdressedinanoversizedcrewnecksweatshirtandleggingsthatshowedoffher long,gracefullegs.Butlikeherhair,therewasafinecoatingofglitteronherclothes.Overthetopofherhead,thepartystill roaredinthedistance,musiccuttingthroughthetensesilencebetweenus
ShenoticedwhereIwaslookingandlaughedlowinherthroat “It’snotlikethisallthetime It’sjusta firstdayofschool celebration.”
“Thenwhyaren’tyouthere?”
Hergreeneyesflickeduptomine.Sheshrugged,toyingwiththebrokenstraponherbag.“Iwasforaminute.Ifigured studyingisabetteruseofmytime”
Shecontinuedtopickatthebrokenstrapaswestoodtherefacingeachother.Ipursedmylipsandmotionedforthebag. “Here,letmecarryit Iassumeyou’rewalkingtothelibrary?”
“Iam”Shehandedmethebag,andIdidmybesttostifleagruntofsurpriseattheweightofit Nowonderitbroke At leastsixtextbookswerestuffedinside.
Shesmiledatmyexpenseaswestartedwalking,passingGreekRowandlettingthepartyfadebehindus.
“WhatbroughtyoutoGatlington?”Whitneyglancedatmeexpectantly.
Ishiftedtheweightofherenormoustextbooksinmyarms.“Ajob.”
“Obviously.”Shegrinnedwidelyenoughtocauseadimpleinonecheek.Thefierce,stone-coldseriousstudentI’dfaced offwithinthehallwaythismorningwasn’tthesamepersonIlookeddownatnow.DanMontaguehadbeencorrectwhenhe saidWhitneywasmultifacetedandsharp,buthe’dleftoutthatshewashardtoread.
Ismirkeddownather,noticingtheplayfullookinhereyes.“YouthoughtIwasastudentthismorning,didn’tyou?”
“Yeah.”Shelaughed,bunchingupherfingersintheholesofhersweatshirt.“Iwassurprisedtofindoutyouwereold enoughtoteachhereatall,letaloneagraduatelevelcourse.”
“HowolddoyouthinkIam?”Itwasmyturntolaugh.Istoppedwalkingandturnedtofaceher.
Sheshrugged,hercheekspinkfromthecold.“Well,ifit’strueyouholdnotone,buttwodoctoratedegrees,thenIdoubt you’reundertheageofforty.”
“I’mthirty-three”
“Hmm ”Shecockedherheadtotheside,examiningmeclosely “Whysociologyandarcheology?”
“Youlookedmeup”
Whitneysmiled,hereyesshiningwithmischief “Ineededtoconfirmthatmyeducationwasingoodhands Anyway ” Sheturnedandstartedwalkingagain.“Whythosetwosubjects?”
“Theydooverlap.Ialwayswantedtogointoarcheology,andIfeltlikethestudyofgroupsratherthanabroadbackground inhistorywouldsetmyresearchapartfrommycolleagues”Theendofthetrailleadingtothecenterofcampuscameinto view,themassivestonebuildinghousingthelibraryrisingintheneardistance.Forwhateverreason,Ifeltapangofregret we’dreacheditsoquickly MaybeitwasbecauseIknewsomuchaboutWhitneyalready heraccomplishments,her reputationoncampus,andthelike.
Butthisgirlinfrontofmewasn’ttheice-coldqueenofcampusI’dassumedshe’dbe.
“That’swhyI’mtakingarthistoryclassesthissemesteraswell,”shesaid,hereyescrinklingwithpleasure.“Society influencesart,andviceversa”
“You’reright Keepthatupandyou’lldowellinmyclass”Therewasatouchofheatinmytone,somethingunintended HersmilefalteredandwasquicklyreplacedbysomethingIcouldonlydescribeascalculatedandfierce “Ialwaysdo wellinclass.”
Ah,thereitwas.TheWhitneyDahlI’dheardsomuchabout.ThelookinhereyestoldmeeverythingIneededtoknow she’dgivemearunformymoneyduringlectures She’dchallengeme
Maybeinmorewaysthanone
Ilookeddownatherbag,turningitsoIcouldseethetitles SomeofthemwerethebooksI’dmentionedasstudymaterials inmysyllabus.She’dboughteverysingleone,andmostofthemwerealreadyleafedwithbookmarks.
