Date My Professor

by Ivy Collins

  I’m still on this train of thought as Sophie slips out of my room wearing one of my shirts. She’s left the top few buttons undone, exposing much more than a hint of her lovely breasts. The shirt barely reaches the top of her thighs—it does almost nothing to cover the swell of her bottom. It looks better on her than it ever did on me.

  “I’m really going to need to find something to wear,” she says, almost apologetically. My brain has to catch up to the conversation, still fixated on that tempting cleavage. I blink, and shake my head.

  “Of course,” I murmur. I briefly contemplate the idea that she doesn’t strictly need to wear anything other than my shirts if she never has to leave my condo, but the ridiculous fantasy passes. “I’ve already thrown your clothing from last night in the wash. As soon as it’s done, I’ll drive you out to find some necessities.”

  I see those stubborn calculations starting behind her eyes, and I know she’s thinking through how much she can afford. I decide to head off that train of thought now. “I am paying. That’s not up for discussion. I ran into some Jehovah’s Witnesses the other day, and they told me my soul is in jeopardy. Clearly, I need to do a few good deeds for the holidays if I’m ever to avoid eternal damnation.”

  Sophie’s mouth drops open at the sheer absurdity of the statement. It’s exactly because of its absurdity that she’s unable to formulate an argument against it.

  But she recovers quickly, and I realize I’ve underestimated her yet again. “A few clothing donations aren’t going to save you from going to hell,” she tells me. “I’ll buy my own clothes, thanks. You can go volunteer at an orphanage if you’re so worried about your afterlife.”

  I turn and look her in the eyes, dead serious. “How much money do you have in your account right now, Sophie?” I ask.

  She hesitates. It’s not because she doesn’t know the number. Every student in my class knows the number, because they’re all dreadfully poor and trying not to buy one sandwich too many. It’s a sad state of affairs, and I hate it.

  “...I have enough for now,” she says reluctantly. There’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “I have a shift at work tonight. I should get some tips from that.”

  Oh my lord. I close my eyes, and slowly count to ten. Of course she’s still working. Of course she’s going to keep her shift, the very next day after losing everything she has.

  I calm my irritation and open my eyes again. “You can call in sick tonight,” I tell her slowly. I do my best not to imply that I’m forbidding her from work, or anything silly like that. But I’m not all right with any of this, and I need to at least let her know that she has options. “You have a lot to figure out today. I will help you figure something out, if you need to skip a shift.”

  Sophie frowns at me. “I can’t call in sick, actually,” she corrects me. “I don’t have any sick days. And I definitely don’t get personal emergencies off. My boss is pretty understanding, but if she lets me off the hook and corporate finds out, she could get in big trouble.”

  Sometimes—very rarely—I wonder if we ought to invade America and take it back for its own good.

  Right now, however, I’ll settle for slowly straightening out this particular American. “All right,” I sigh. “It’s kind of you to be concerned. I’ll try and help you get sorted for work today. But I’m giving you my number. If you start feeling overwhelmed, call me. I will come and pick you up.”

  Sophie blushes. There’s a strangeness in the air between us, and I know the lines between us are still shifting and resettling. How this is all going to work, I still have no idea. But I can feel my brain working on the problem in the background, and I know it’s putting the pieces together slowly.

  “...okay,” she agrees quietly. “But I won’t need to call. I just want your phone number.” She flashes me a flirtatious smile that hits me right in the gut.

  I have to dig her out an extra phone charger and plug her phone in to put my number into it. I know I’ve already done far more forbidden things with Sophie than giving her my personal number, but it still feels like another rule broken. Ah, well. I can spend the evening returning all those annoying emails and phone calls I normally ignore, while she’s at work. I strongly suspect I’m going to make some poor recruiter’s month tonight.

  Just as I’m thinking on that, my phone rings, and I shoot it a bemused look. But it’s not a recruiter—it’s a different call I’ve been expecting.

  I tell Sophie that I’ll be just outside. I step into the common hallway, and close the door behind me as I answer it.

  SOPHIE

  Elijah steps out to take a phone call. I give him a curious look, but I decide not to pry. Things have been an odd mixture of distant and intimate between us today, and I don’t know how much further I feel comfortable pushing things, even if I could.

  He comes back in soon though, still speaking to someone on the other end of the line. “—I’m checking in with her right now, in fact,” Elijah says. His tone is back to being brusquely professional. “You can ask her a few of those questions while I have her.” He shoots me a wry smile, and flicks on speakerphone. “I hope you’re doing better today, Miss Eddings,” he says. There’s no hint of anything untoward in his voice, but his expression is teasing.

  I’ve never blushed so much in such a short timeframe. I have to work hard not to cough. “I’m feeling... a lot better today, yes. Thank you.” I glance at the phone. “Who am I talking to now, Professor Oliver?”

  “Hello, Sophie,” says a woman’s voice on the other end of the phone. “My name is Linda Blaine. I’m in charge of the university’s legal department. I don’t normally handle student issues, but Professor Oliver happened to have my number, and I owe him a number of favors now for straightening out my computer.” There’s a wry twist to her voice that suggests she knows how very technologically inept she is, compared to the two people she’s talking with. “There’s also the fact that your case is really quite appalling. I’d like to get the ball rolling on some paperwork as soon as possible.”

  I blink slowly. Elijah’s words last night had gone mostly over my head, but it’s now occurring to me that he was serious when he said the university’s legal department was going to sue my landlord. “I... thank you. Really, I can’t express how grateful I am. But I have to ask... isn’t this going to make it hard for me to rent from now on?”

  “It might,” Linda admits to me. “But I can help you with that part as well. So for now, I recommend that we take this one step at a time. As I’m sure Professor Oliver has expressed before, we are both very aghast at your situation, and ready to get you through this. I’m told you have an incredible future ahead of you.”

  I fiddle with the edge of the shirt I’m wearing, unable to look at Elijah. There’s only one person Linda might have heard that from. I wonder if he really believes that. But now isn’t the time to ask.

  “Okay,” I sigh. “I believe you. I really don’t want to seem ungrateful. I’m just used to things like this backfiring on me.”

  “I understand. It’s a big step to take. I’m glad you’re brave enough to do it.” Linda seems to sincerely mean that, but she doesn’t dwell on it much longer. In the next moment, she’s jumped straight to business. “Can I ask if you were given a notice to vacate? It would have been delivered to you by a courier, taped to your door, or slipped through your mail slot. Anything like that?”

  I frown. “No,” I say slowly. “I don’t have any paperwork like that. He just told me to leave. I thought he meant by the end of the month. I left him a voice message later, asking what I should do if I couldn’t find a new place by then. He called back yesterday and clarified that I should be out by the end of the night.”

  “Do you have any emails, any voice messages on your side? He only communicated with you verbally?”

  I sigh. “I’ve got a text message or two. They’re a little...” I cast around, searching for a polite way to express what I’m thinking. I can’t find anything, so I shrug
and say: “They’re in all caps, and kind of over-the-top. He’s not actually a raving lunatic or anything. I just don’t know if he knows how to type on his phone properly.”

  “Oh, that’s more than fine,” Linda assures me. “I’m going to give you my official email address at the university. I’d like you to transcribe those text messages for me and send them my way. I’m sure Professor Oliver can pull them off your phone properly for later, but I’d just like to know what I’m working with for now.”

  She pauses. “If you weren’t given a notice to vacate, your landlord is absolutely in the wrong. I expect we’ll be suing him for breach of contract, the value of your rent for the rest of the month, emotional distress, and plenty of damages to your actual belongings. In addition to the text messages, I’d like you to make a list of everything you lost, and try to estimate how much it’s all worth.”

  I search around for a pen and paper, but Elijah hands both over to me before I can ask. I start writing down instructions as she continues asking questions and suggesting courses of action. It’s a lot to take in, but it’s also nice to have someone telling me exactly what needs to be done.

  I’m thrown for a loop, though, when Linda asks me a question I wasn’t expecting.

  “Can you tell me what reason the landlord gave for your eviction?” she asks.

  It’s just another question to her—one more in a long list of bases she wants to cover. But I find myself frozen in place, reeling back from all the implications.

  “Sophie?” Elijah asks me softly. His hand touches my shoulder, and I suck in my breath.

  “My... ex-boyfriend,” I say slowly. “I broke up with him some time ago, but he’s been...” I wince as I realize the truth. “He’s been stalking me,” I say finally. It’s a harsh term, but it feels right when I say it out loud. “He showed up at my apartment last week, drunk and upset. I didn’t give him the address, he just found me. My neighbor called the police on him. When my landlord found out they’d been by, he dug until he found out everything... or at least, enough. He told me he didn’t want the police showing up at his property again. That’s when he told me to leave.”

  Elijah’s hand slowly tightens on my shoulder as I talk. I’m ashamed to realize I haven’t told him any of this until now. I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up with him when he was just my professor, looking to buy me a coffee and help me out. But I should have brought it up this morning. Jordan is going to be a problem in my life for... god, maybe for forever. That awful thought makes my heart sink all the way to my feet. I can’t imagine spending my whole life just waiting for him to show up again. If I get involved with Elijah, that means he’ll have to deal with Jordan, too. That’s the sort of thing someone should go into with their eyes wide open.

  “Do you have a restraining order against your ex-boyfriend?” Linda asks me. She’s not unsympathetic, but I can tell she’s still in business mode, looking to help me in as straightforward a manner as she can. The atmosphere between me and Elijah is very different. I can feel there are things he wants to say, but can’t right now. I try not to worry about that too much. I draw in my breath and steady myself.

  “I don’t have a restraining order,” I admit. “I tried to get one. I left him because he was an alcoholic, and I was worried he might get violent with me. The police said that because he’d never actually hit me, I didn’t have enough grounds for a formal restraining order.”

  That wasn’t all they’d said, of course. The male officer I’d talked to had implied that I was overreacting—that somehow, listening to my instincts and leaving before my boyfriend had actually hurt me was the wrong thing to do. But the people in this room didn’t need to know every awful, sordid detail involved.

  “That’s unfortunate,” Linda sighs. “If we could make the case that you’re a victim of domestic violence, you’d have extra protections under the law as a tenant. But it’s not the end of the world, by any means. Your landlord has definitely already violated the law, and you have a sympathetic case. I really don’t think we’re going to have much trouble getting a judgement against him.”

  I rub at my forehead. I’m starting to get a headache now. It’s been a long few days, and this call has been far more stressful than I was expecting. But thankfully, there’s not much more to be said.

  “I think I have everything I need to get to work on this,” Linda says. “I know you have a lot on your plate, Sophie, but it would really help if you could get me that email as soon as possible. Ideally, I’d like to have my ducks in a row before the weekend hits.”

  I nod sluggishly, before realizing that she can’t see it. “Thank you,” I say again. “Yeah, I’ll do my best to get this all done before tomorrow.”

  “Excellent. Professor Oliver says he’s found you resources for your living situation in the meantime. Is there anything else I can help you with? We have a lot of student resources that lots of people don’t know about.”

  I shoot Elijah a raised eyebrow at the mention of my living situation, but he shakes his head, and I assume we’ll talk about that later as well. “No, I think I’ve got a plan, thanks. I really appreciate all of this.”

  “Of course. I hope things improve for you, Sophie. We’ll do our best to see that they do.” I hear papers shuffle on her end. “Well, I have a lot of work to do. I’ll talk to you both later, I’m sure. Good luck.”

  We say our goodbyes, and Elijah ends the call.

  6

  Elijah

  I have to stand there in silence for a long moment, gathering my thoughts.

  No wonder Sophie’s life is in shambles. Judging from the statistics, she’s lucky not to be in a bodybag. I have to push away that bleak thought before it consumes me. She was smart enough to leave before things devolved, I remind myself. She’s being punished for that, in a way, but not as badly as she would have been punished if she’d stayed.

  “I’m sorry,” she says suddenly. “I should have thought to mention that before.”

  I blink at her, confused. She looks like a kicked dog. Is she feeling guilty?

  I shake my head at her, stunned. “Sorry?” I repeat incredulously. “Sorry for what, now? None of this is your fault, Sophie. I suppose I can understand how it might feel that way, given the way that people have been treating you, but it’s absolutely not true.”

  She picks at the hem of my shirt, still unable to meet my eyes. “I... I appreciate that. I really do. Everything seems a little clearer when I have you around. I know you’re not exactly unbiased, but it’s still good to have someone tell me I’m not crazy.” She breathes in slowly. “But I still should have told you. This isn’t the first time that Jordan has tracked me down. After the first time, my roommate got scared and moved out. If I... if I stay involved with you, I’m sure it’s going to come up. It’s an ugly situation, and you don’t deserve to get tangled up in it.”

  I mentally revise my plans for the evening. This, I think, is not insurmountable. I’m glad I found out about it now. “I think it’s safe to say that you don’t deserve to be tangled up in it either, Sophie,” I tell her. “I can assure you, I understand that you haven’t spilled your life story to me in the space of a single day. You have bigger things to worry about.” I tug her into my arms on instinct, and she sighs in relief. I only realize after I’ve done it that I didn’t have to think about it consciously. I knew she was upset, and the reasonable thing to do was to hold her, so I did. That’s nice, I think... but also dangerous. I can’t do that in public just yet.

  “Let’s get your clothing sorted,” I say finally. “I’ll help you put together that email for Linda over food, after that.” Her body relaxes further at that, and I know I was right to suspect she’d need moral support for that part. “Tonight, you’ll have work—if you still decide to go. I’ll take you back to your car so you can drive there. Tomorrow, I suspect you’ll be studying all day.”

  Sophie frowns at that. She has my exam tomorrow, after all. It’s the last time I’ll have t
o be professional with her. “Er... Prof-Elijah.” She gets flustered on that correction, but forces herself to continue. “Linda said you’d gotten me resources on where to stay. Do you have an idea for where I can sleep tonight?”

  I can’t help but raise my eyebrows at her again. Really? “You’re sleeping here, obviously,” I tell her slowly.

  Sophie’s mouth drops open, and she gives an adorable little squeak. “But—but I can’t sleep with you and then walk into your class and take an exam—”

  “Well,” I say wickedly, “you don’t have to sleep with me. You could take the couch if you really insist. But that strikes me as an unnecessary sacrifice, given that I’ve already come inside you twice now—”

  She buries her face in her hands, mortified by the frank discussion. I don’t feel inclined to show her any mercy, given how rarely I’m able to strike her speechless.

  “—and if you really feel you must forego my bedroom for the sake of your maidenly virtue, I suppose I can wait to tie you up and have my way with you until your exam is safely graded and you’re officially finished with my class.”

  Her body tenses, and I know I’ve hit the mark. Sophie’s under so much stress in her daily life that she’s excited by the idea of not having to make hard choices in bed—of having all her choices taken away from her, in fact. The idea of being tied up already has her crossing and uncrossing her legs in anticipation.

  “Ugh,” she mutters into her hands. She’s fully aware that I’ve played her. “You’re unbearable when you’re smug.”