I lasted four days.
Four days of sitting in the third row of his lecture hall, taking notes I would not remember, watching Professor Hale write on the board like he had not had me on his desk the week before. He never looked at me longer than he looked at anyone else. That was worse than if he had. It made the whole thing feel like a fever I had invented.
On Thursday I told myself I was only going to office hours for the midterm review.
I knocked.
“Come in.”
He was behind the desk again, jacket on this time, every inch the faculty member students whispered about and never touched. The lock clicked after I shut the door. He did that himself, without looking up from the paper he was marking.
“Miss Cole.”
“I have questions about the essay prompt.”
“No, you don’t.” He set the pen down
