Date My Professor

by Ivy Collins

I shrink back a bit, my face on fire. I’m aware that he’s touching me gingerly like this in front of a whole classroom full of students—some of whom are probably in his other classes. “I’m... I’m fine,” I assure him. He brushes across one of my arms where Jordan grabbed me though, and I flinch. His face darkens instantly.

  “That boy is lucky he’s in the back of a cop car,” Elijah snaps in a chilly tone.

  “He is?” My eyes widen. Until this moment, I realize, I wasn’t truly convinced that Professor Winslow was telling me the truth—that she’d really be able to get Jordan away from me for the whole night.

  “He is,” Elijah mutters. “I saw the sirens outside. I only managed to get part of the story, and no one seemed to know where you were.”

  I let out my breath slowly. “I...” I can feel tears threatening, now that I’m allowed to feel relieved. But I force them back, and straighten my spine. I can just barely explain away Elijah being here—he’s established with Linda that he’s taken an interest in my situation—but I know that if I start crying here, there’s a real possibility that he’ll cross some obvious professional lines. “I’m fine,” I repeat, more strongly this time. “I’m supposed to wait here until Professor Winslow returns.”

  There’s another knock on the door, just as I say the words. “It’s me,” Professor Winslow says. “Please open the door, Sophie.”

  I let her in—her eyes instantly settle on Elijah, who’s still hovering over my shoulder. I see a faint crease in her forehead, but she doesn’t otherwise comment. “Mister Lynch has been arrested for attempting to get behind the wheel drunk. He’s in the process of being booked and charged. If you want to mention his assault, I can show you to someone to get your statement taken, but my honest opinion is that you should go home and relax for the night.” She smiles thinly. “As much as I wish it were otherwise, a drunk driving charge is far more serious than what he’s provably done to you, and more likely to keep him locked up for an extended period of time.”

  I let out my breath, dazed. It feels unreal. Jordan is getting locked up. Even if it’s just for now. I don’t have to worry about him showing up for the night.

  Elijah shoots Professor Winslow an incredulous look. “You don’t think he ought to be charged with assault?” he asks. He sounds faintly outraged. “He laid hands on her! I’m sure he scared her witless!”

  Professor Winslow shoots him a dry, withering look. “What I think he ought to be charged with and what’s more likely to stick are two very different things, Elijah,” she says. “Sophie asked me for my help, and I’m doing my best to give it. If she needs an expert in machine learning, instead of advice on the law, I’m sure she knows where to go.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her quickly. “Thank you... so much. I really appreciate it, ma’am.”

  Professor Winslow frowns at me. “I’m glad you came to me,” she says. “But I can’t help but notice this seems to be an ongoing situation. Why didn’t you say something before, Sophie?”

  I wince. Ugh. In retrospect, it seems so obvious. Why shouldn’t I go politely ask my ex-cop professor how to handle a difficult legal situation? But I already know why it didn’t come to mind. “I guess I got so used to people telling me there was nothing I could do that I started to believe them. But also, ma’am... with absolutely all of the respect in the world... you scare the living hell out of me.”

  One of the nearby students dares to glance over at us. “Amen,” he mutters beneath his breath.

  “Focus on your test and mind your own business, Mister Espinoza!” Professor Winslow barks at him. He jerks in his seat, and ducks his head back toward his exam.

  Professor Winslow shoots me a withering smile that suggests she knows exactly how ironic the whole situation is. “So noted,” she tells me. She turns back toward us both again. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t foresee Mister Lynch giving you any trouble in the near future. He’s not even going to be eligible for bail until tomorrow morning, once he’s been fully processed. After that, he’s going to have a lot of legal trouble ahead of him. I’ll make sure no one in the department is inclined to cut him any unearned slack.”

  I give her an exhausted, endlessly grateful look. “Ma’am,” I tell her. “You are a literal saint. I am going to find you the biggest apple for your desk.”

  Professor Winslow actually laughs. It’s a small, terse laugh, but I’m fairly sure it’s genuine. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a business card. “Give me a call over break,” she says. “I’ve got some other things I’d like to talk to you about—but I figure those can wait.” She pats me firmly on the shoulder. “Have you got a ride home?”

  I carefully avoid looking at Elijah. “I do,” I say. “Thank you. I think I’m going to take advantage of that right now.”

  10

  Elijah

  Sophie has been bearing up awfully well for someone in her position. If anything, I’m forced to admit, I’m taking the whole situation far less well than she is. I’d had my own thoughts as to how I might solve Sophie’s situation, but it somehow never occurred to me that something might happen before I managed it. I feel like an idiot, overlooking that reality. I can’t imagine what I would have done if she hadn’t thought so quickly on her feet.

  By the time I’ve gotten us both something quick to eat and driven us back, she’s all but fallen asleep in my car. I hate to wake her up, but even as I try to pick her up, she shifts and blinks awake with a yawn. A silly smile crosses her lips as she looks up at me, and it drives the breath straight from my chest.

  “Hey,” she says tiredly. “I aced that fucking test, didn’t I?”

  I choke on a laugh. “I haven’t even had a chance to check, you cheeky twit.”

  She starts pulling herself up out of the car, but I help her up to her feet, holding her against me. I stay there for an extra moment, calming myself down as I feel her heart beat against me.

  “...you’re a mess,” Sophie accuses me.

  I shake my head. “My god,” I mutter. “And you aren’t?”

  “I’m fantastic.” Sophie laughs incredulously. “No one has ever so much as slapped Jordan on the wrist. Now he’s in the drunk tank for the night, and his father is going to have to drive down to bail him out. I know it’s probably going to get even worse as soon as he’s sorted out his legal trouble, but I’m going to enjoy being free, just for tonight.”

  I tighten my arms around her. I hate that this is the extent of her hopes. I want to give her more than that. I sigh as I realize I’m going to spill the news early. “Sophie... I’d intended to have a nice, calm conversation with you about this. But I think it’s better if you hear it now.”

  She glanced up at me, suddenly wary. I rush on quickly, before she can get too worried. “I know you’ve only got one semester left here. I’m sure that the last thing you want is to redo a few credits. But I’ve had an old coworker trying to offer me a job back in London for the last year now. I called him up and asked him if the company might sponsor a permit for one of my research assistants. He just got back to me today.”

  Sophie’s eyes go wide. “You... you’re leaving?” she squeaks.

  I want to shake her in frustration. “I’m asking if you want to go somewhere else,” I correct her. “If I accept this job offer, they’ll hire you as a junior programmer. You can transition to one of the universities in the city to finish out your degree over the next bit.”

  She blinks a few times. It’s a lot to take in, obviously. Even now, I’m starting to second-guess myself, wondering if I should have eased her into it over the holidays. But she sags into my arms in abject relief, clinging to me like a lifeline.

  “Oh my god,” Sophie whispers. “There’d be a whole ocean between us. Even if he sorts out this drunk driving record, there’s no way he’s going to hop a plane and track me down in London.”

  “That was rather the idea,” I inform her dryly. But my heart is pounding, and I know that I desperately wanted her
to say yes. The fact that she seems to be favorably disposed toward the idea relieves me too. “To be clear... is that a yes, Sophie?”

  She bunches her fingers in my shirt, sucking in a breath. “That’s a... it’s an almost certainly?” she manages. She sounds a little bewildered now. “I’ve never even been to another country. I mean, I know that’s kind of the point, but I’d have to figure out an apartment, and I’m honestly not even sure if I can rent something out over there—”

  I give up. I press my hands to either side of her face, and I kiss her very soundly, shutting her up.

  She kisses me back almost instantly, throwing her arms around my neck. I like the feel of her in my arms. I know it’s something I can’t possibly give up. I want to hold her every day for the rest of my life.

  Eventually, once I’m quite sure I’ve kissed all stupid thoughts of rugged American self-sufficiency out of her head, I pull back to catch my breath. “Sophia Eddings,” I tell her. “I am asking you to live with me. If that bothers you, I’m sure we can find some other sort of arrangement. But I must say, I’ll be very surprised if you’d rather sleep alone in some awful little London flat than let me tie you up in my bed every night.”

  Sophie shivers against me right on cue, and I know I’ve successfully used her weak spot once again. She fiddles with my shirt button. “You might get sick of me,” she accuses. “What happens a year in when you decide you want to strangle me?”

  “Sophie,” I say tiredly. “I already want to strangle you. It’s part of your charm. But on the off-chance that things don’t work out, you’ll be gainfully employed, with a very generous starting salary.“

  She wants to keep arguing. I can feel it in her body. She’s starting to see the worries, the what-ifs. She’s feeling guilty at the idea of accepting a bit of nepotism, no matter how many other perfectly awful, unearned things she’s had to deal with already.

  But to my surprise, she takes a deep breath... and nods. “Okay,” she says. She sounds surprised at herself too, but she doesn’t take the word back. “Okay. That sounds lovely. And I... I want to go with you.” She summons up some last bit of strength, and looks me in the eyes. “I think you should know that I’m head over heels in love with you. And if that bothers you, then you’d better say so now.”

  I wasn’t expecting to get hit with any more over-the-top surprises tonight. But that one definitely sideblinds me. I have to blink a few times to process it.

  You are? I want to ask. For what mad, hare-brained reason?

  But instead, I open my mouth and say: “I love you too, Sophie. I assume that doesn’t bother you?”

  Her eyes finally fill up with tears for the first time tonight. I don’t have long to wonder whether they’re good or bad tears, before she’s thrown herself into my arms and kissed me again.

  Later that night, she falls asleep naked in my arms, and I think again: I’m in love with this gorgeous, frustrating woman.

  I have the distinct feeling that if she ends up staying in Britain permanently, it will be with a ring on her finger.

  Epilogue: Sophie

  What an absolutely crazy difference a year can make.

  It’s a terribly busy winter holiday for me—but all of it is good. Linda tells me my landlord has utterly capitulated in short order, given the terrifying legal letters she sent his way. The amount he agrees to pay isn’t nearly what she promises she could get in court, but it’s sizeable enough that I could replace all of my furniture and pay for an apartment deposit and still have some left over, if I really wanted. As it turns out, I don’t actually need to buy any of those things, though; instead, I get the news that I’ve got a British work permit underway, and I need to start the paperwork to switch universities and give my two weeks notice at work.

  I have a very pleasant coffee with Professor Winslow, who tells me that Jordan has been sent to court-ordered rehab. It’s not prison, exactly, but it definitely means he’ll be out of my life for the next few months. With luck, he might even turn his life around and get into a healthier frame of mind—but either way, I’m not going to be here to deal with it. Professor Winslow does broach the subject of law enforcement with me—specifically, the sort of federal-level positions that involve money laundering and other computer-related crimes. It does put a bug in my head, but I admit to her that it’s something I’ll have to look into later, once I’ve gotten my life a little more stable.

  Tonight, I head out of my evening class, frowning at the sky. It’s drizzling again. Of all the things I’ve had to adjust to in London, it’s oddly the constant, on-and-off drizzle of rain that’s been the hardest to handle. If I’m going to be honest, I do find it a little depressing. But the city has plenty of other fantastic things to recommend it—not least of which is my boyfriend, the devastatingly handsome blond who’s waiting outside to pick me up and take me home.

  Elijah grabs my bag from my shoulder out of habit, and opens the passenger door of the car for me. “Well that’s a unique expression on your face,” he observes, as he kisses my nose. “Did you perchance take a bite out of the wrong citrus fruit?”

  My lips twitch upward, in spite of my mood. “No,” I tell him. “But I think my professor might have a lemon permanently wedged up his ass.”

  Elijah blinks, and presses a hand to his chest. “I’m quite sure that I don’t,” he assures me. “Though I suppose you can check if you really need to be sure.”

  “Not you,” I laugh. “I mean my professor from the class I’ve just come out of. He’s so...” I narrow my eyes at him. “...you. Except that he’s far less charming, I suppose.”

  Elijah chuckles as he slides into the driver’s seat. “As I recall, you seem to prefer that sort of thing. I don’t have competition, do I, Sophie dear?”

  I choke on the insinuation. “Oh, god no,” I manage. “Ew. He’s about a hundred years old, I think.”

  Elijah coughs. “Well, you do like older men—”

  I hit him in the chest. “Keep talking,” I tell him. “It’s doing you worlds of good.”

  That smirk of his just keeps inching upward. “You’ll only have to deal with one more semester of insufferable British professors,” he reminds me. “After that, god willing, you’ll be graduated. What do you intend to do with your newfound freedom, by the way? Have you any thoughts?”

  I let out a breath. “Oh, hell. I think I’m going to focus on work and take a bit of a break, otherwise. It’ll be nice not trying to juggle my time so much.”

  Elijah considers this. He shakes his head. “No, I don’t think that will do,” he says. “I was insinuating you might take an actual break, Sophie. Perhaps some vacation time. Somewhere a bit less... bleak.” He flashes me a smile, and I know he’s making fun of me. I’ve only complained about the rain a hundred times by now.

  “Ha ha,” I mumble. “But that’s actually a good idea. Did you have somewhere in mind already?”

  He grabs a small box out of the glove compartment, and passes it over to me absently. “I was thinking I’ve always wanted to honeymoon in Paris,” he tells me. “But that might be too cliche. I figured I’d ask your opinion first, since the decision somewhat involves you, too.”

  I stare down at the little black box in my hands, wide-eyed. I know what I just heard, but I have to run the words through my mind again, just to make sure I’ve parsed them correctly.

  I open up the little box... and sure enough, there’s a ring inside. It’s silver wire, set with a small, tasteful ruby. It’s exactly the sort of elegant, understated thing I might have picked out for myself, and I know without needing to check that it’s perfectly sized for my ring finger. Elijah is just too damned sneaky and cunning to have missed a detail like that.

  “So?” he asks me. There’s a smirk on his lips again. “Paris? Too passé?”

  I’m glad he hasn’t started the car. I throw myself across the space between us, kissing him desperately. Elijah catches me belatedly, and I’m surprised to feel him shaking. As confident a
s he seems, I can tell he’s absolutely dying for an answer.

  “Yes!” I manage. “I mean—yes to the—I’ll marry you!”

  Elijah lets out a faint sigh of relief, and holds me close, kissing the top of my head. “I’m sure you’ll come around to the Paris idea,” he says, forcing himself back into a nonchalant tone. “I can be very persuasive.”

  I grin against him. I’m buzzing with such a wonderful high that I can’t even bring myself to argue. “Tie me up tonight, professor,” I whisper in his ear. “And we’ll see if I come around.”

  He smirks down at me, and I know it’s going to be a very good night.

  THE END

  Thanks for reading Date My Professor!

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  About the Author

  Ivy Collins writes short, sweet contemporary romances with a hint of spice. She lives in Montreal, Quebec with her fantastic, prose-inspiring husband and her two cats. When not writing romance, she can be found running D&D or Pathfinder for her local group.

  Want more short, sweet romances? Keep up with my releases when you sign up for my mailing list.

  https://ivycollins.com

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