Clearly, Dad is still on Team Nico. But I’m hoping he switches his loyalties, because I’m Team Hunter all the way.
“He’ll warm up to you,” I say, giving Hunter’s hand a squeeze.
He slants his head. “Will he? Because that implies I’ll be seeing him often.”
I hesitate. We haven’t formally declared ourselves as “dating,” so I’m not entirely sure if he’ll see my dad again. Also, until we define our relationship, I’m trying to avoid PDA, so I drop Hunter’s hand as we reach the building, because Pax and TJ are waiting on the steps.
“Ah! New boots!” Pax shouts when he spots me. His envious gaze devours my footwear, which is indeed new—black leather boots with brown fur, to match the hood of my parka. “I love!” he announces.
“Thanks! I’d like to say I feel the same way about your hair, but…what the hell is going on there?”
Hunter snorts. “For real, Jax. I’m not into it.”
I roll my eyes. He’s well aware what Pax’s real name is, but now it’s just a running joke, and Pax plays along because he thinks Hunter is hot.
“When did you get that done?” I ask.
“And why?” TJ says, looking like he’s trying not to laugh.
Sighing dramatically, Pax smooths a hand over the green streaks in his black hair. “This past weekend. And why? Because my little sister is in cosmetology school and her exams are coming up, so she was practicing her dye skills on me.”
“I’m not going to lie,” I inform him. “It looks terrible.”
“Gee, thanks, bestie.” He winks. “The guy I hooked up with last night didn’t seem to mind.”
“Nice.” Hunter holds his palm up for a high five.
Jax—dammit, now I’m doing it. Pax returns the high five, and then the four of us escape the January chill and enter the building. I notice TJ slide a curious look between me and Hunter, but he doesn’t say anything.
We take our usual seats in the middle of the row, only this time Hunter usurps Pax’s place beside me. Once again TJ’s gaze takes note.
Anticipation ripples inside me when Professor Andrews arrives with her two TAs in tow. Yes! Either my eyes are projecting what they want to see, or the teaching assistants are carrying our graded assignments.
“Morning, ladies and gents. So… The previous times I taught this course, I used to return these at the end of the final lecture, with the simple goal of torturing everyone. I’m not certain what that reveals about my own psychological makeup—” Andrews grins at the class. “With that said, I’m in the mood to be nice today.”
She’s behaving atypically goofy, but perhaps that’s because this is our last day. The TAs who ran our tutorials approach each aisle and begin calling out names. One by one, students get up to accept their assignments.
Although everyone worked together on the projects, each paper was handed in and graded separately. I practically dive out of my seat when my name is called. The moment the envelope that contains my submission is in my hand, I waste no time slicing it open. Beside me, Hunter does the same with his.
A cover page is stapled to the front of my submission, and I almost shriek out loud when I see my grade.
A-plus, baby.
Hell yeah.
Curious, I peer over at Hunter’s sheet. “What’d you get?”
“B-plus.” He looks pleased with that. I had proofed his research paper and thought it was excellent, but I probably would’ve gone more in-depth about certain things, so I think the grade is fair.
I flip through the pages of my case study to find that Andrews scribbled notes in the margins. The praise I find is ludicrously good for my ego. Things like:
Terrific insight!
Highly perceptive!
Provocative…
GREAT angle, she writes in the section where I discuss possible counseling tactics to try to help the narcissist reach the rare self-awareness. The slew of compliments has my ego swelling to monstrous proportions. This feels way more satisfying than the A-plus I got in Organic Chem. This one feels right.
Hunter leans closer to whisper in my ear. “You look so hot right now.”
I wrinkle my forehead. “Really?”
“Oh yeah.” His breath tickles my cheek. “It’s that cocky look in your eyes. Never thought I’d get turned on by an academic, but fuck, I’ve got a semi, Semi.”
I snicker softly. But I realize he’s not kidding when he straightens up and I glimpse the hot lust swimming in his eyes.
I gulp through my suddenly parched throat, turning toward TJ as a distraction. “How’d you do?”
“An A,” he replies, and Pax got a B, so all in all I’d say Abnormal Psych was a smashing success.
Since it’s the last class, Andrews rewards us with a topic that I could probably spend a solid twenty-four hours listening to: serial killers. In fact, if you tally all the time I’ve spent watching crime shows, it probably adds up to a depressingly long portion of my life.