When it came to students, I only noticed what would help me remember their names. Wendell had round, silver-rimmed glasses. Allison had short, spiky hair. Maurice had a tattoo on the inside of his forearm. My first year at Landsman College, I learned firsthand the dangers of noticing anything more about the students, especially the attractive females. Now I focused on small details that would help me recognize them throughout the semester.
I unpacked my leather messenger bag and organized my introduction lecture notes. She walked in and I knocked an entire folder on the floor. Luckily, the rest of the lecture hall could not see me as I ducked down behind my desk.
Clarity's sure steps faltered when she saw my face. I scowled up at her and swiped together the loose papers. My class roster ended up on top and there she was: Clarity Dunkirk, junior.
My mind skipped back over our introduction and wondered where I went wrong. Had I been so distracted by my instant attraction to her that I didn't hear who she was? No, she had simply neglected to tell me two important facts. Clarity was not only the Dean of Students' daughter, she was one of my students.
I stood up and ignored her completely, which was easy because I couldn't see anything but a red haze. I hated how Landsman College students were washed in privilege. Clarity had probably thought flirting with me and then embarrassing me in class was going to be a hilarious prank. I was just another employee serving up what she wanted.
She sat down in the center of the fourth row and I spent the rest of class pretending she didn't exist. Clarity kept her eyes on her notebook and scribbled diligently. Her hair was tied into a loose ponytail by a slim, black ribbon. The bright focus in her emerald eyes separated her from the rest of the groggy and slouching students.
After running through the syllabus, explaining the large writing component of the course, and completing my first lecture, I gathered up my things as quickly as I could. By the time I had unplugged my laptop, most of the students had made a beeline out the door towards the cafeteria for coffee and breakfast. A few stragglers asked questions, and the then echoing lecture hall was quiet.
"Professor Bauer?"
I looked up at the pair of smiling students. "Yes?"
"I'm Mindy, and this is my friend, Tonya. We just wanted to say that we're really looking forward to your course this semester. It's great to have a professor that's willing to teach us outside the classroom," Mindy batted her eyelashes.
"Well, you can't practice proper journalism in a vacuum. I have to help you get out to community events so you can start digging up real leads," I said.
"We're looking forward to it." Mindy giggled and posed in front of me until her friend dragged her to the door.
"Professor Bauer?"
I swore under my breath. It bothered me that Clarity had seen the other students flirting with me. "Yes, Ms. Dunkirk, is it?"
She frowned and shifted from one foot to the other. "I need to apologize for not explaining I was one of your students. I just, I, I enjoyed talking to you like a regular adult," Clarity said. She squeezed her notebook to her chest.
I slammed my leather messenger bag closed and gritted my teeth. "No problem, Ms. Dunkirk. I don't mind being reduced to some silly school girl fantasy just so you can pretend to be mature."
I held my breath and looked up, expecting tears. Instead I was met with a sharp, jewel-hard glint in her eyes. Clarity batted back a few loose tendrils of her dark red hair and straightened her shoulders.
"I'm not a girl and I'm not immature, Professor Bauer. I was simply playing the good hostess for my father and did not want to make you feel ill at ease," she snapped.
My whole body leapt to engage in a good argument. I had a feeling Clarity, whose stance was anything but meek, would make a great sparring pa
rtner. Before I could think better of it, I walked around the desk and stepped close to her.
Clarity tipped her chin up to keep her hard glare on my eyes. She was about 5'7", judging from where her the top of her head reached my chin. She didn't step back, and her slender, athletic body was rigid with defiance.
"Ms. Dunkirk, I understand being the daughter of the Dean of Students could give you a disproportioned sense of entitlement, but in this classroom, there are strict boundaries. I am the professor and you are a student. And, in no possible scenario, am I interested in my students outside of Multimedia Production & Storytelling."
She stepped back, but only to give me a scathing glance from head to toe. "I'm sorry you got the wrong idea about me, Professor Bauer. It must be embarrassing to have a student discover how rusty your journalistic inquiry skills have become."
Clarity marched around me and headed for the door. I admired her sharp tongue even as the insult stung. She was fearless, and for a minute, I remembered her father urging her to break out of her shell. That would be a sight to see. The idea of helping Clarity find her passion was a hot match against the fuse of my already smoldering attraction. I couldn't help myself and called out.
"Clarity." She turned with a dagger-throwing glare. "Next time, don't bury the lead."
Her sudden smile checked my heart and it stumbled off balance as I gathered the rest of my things. I knew I needed to do something right away or that smile was going to stick with me all afternoon.
I grabbed my phone. "Jackson? It's me. Remember that blind date you mentioned? How fast can you and Alice set it up?"
"Yes! I knew you'd come around," Jackson crowed. "I'll text Alice right away."
Before I reached the end of the hallway, my phone buzzed. The message read, "Date set for tomorrow night. Campus art opening."
I took a deep breath and congratulated myself on avoiding another disaster. Clarity pulled at me like a dangerous undertow, but this time I'd keep my head above water.