Chapter 3

I checked my email every few minutes for the better part of a week.

Nothing came through about changing my schedule.

So I showed up again the next Monday for Pierce’s course.

He didn’t look at me this time, his eyes seeming to stray everywhere else in the room except for in my direction.

I wasn’t sure why he’d been against me attending his class. Maybe he thought I couldn’t handle the material. Maybe he questioned my intelligence. Maybe he still saw me as a kindergartner and not a college student.

Regardless, I was determined to prove him wrong.

So I engaged in class, making sure he knew I’d prepared for today’s lesson. Or I attempted to, anyway. He refused to call on me.

Yet he had no problem pointing to Emily three times for answers.

By the end of class, I was fuming.

But rather than call him on it, I chose to leave without a word and prepare myself for the next class.

Maybe he thought I’d been raising my hand for his benefit, just as he thought I’d enrolled in this class for him.

Which, yeah, I had taken this course because of him.

But something told me his reasoning for my decision varied from the true cause.

He was oblivious to my crush on him, mostly because he saw me as a seven-year-old.

Well, I’d just prove him wrong in next week’s class.

Only, he ignored me again, calling on everyone else except for me.

By the fourth week of this treatment, I was done.

We had our first assignment due next week, marking the fifth meeting of this class, and I knew exactly what I wanted to focus on for my project—sexual marketing.

There’d been a segment in our reading during week three about sensual advertising on social media and the difficulties with ad performance.

I’d spent my week studying and preparing my presentation. Then I’d paired it with an appropriate outfit, one I knew he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

Of course, he would have to listen to me anyway since we were all supposed to present for five minutes on our chosen topic.

The purpose of the assignment was to pick something from our first four weeks to elaborate on and apply it to a real-life situation. I suspected the purpose was to prepare us for the final he’d mentioned during our first class.

If he continued to ignore me, maybe I’d just show up naked and make my final presentation about advertising my non-childlike body to him. See how he reacted then.

Of course, Emily might beat me to it.

Every week, she simpered and giggled and flirted shamelessly. Not that I could blame her. Pierce was hot. All the girls in class were fawning over him. Some of the guys, too.

Perhaps that was why he ignored me—he was too busy entertaining thirty-four other students.

Well, he wouldn’t be ignoring me today.

I glanced down at my thigh-high boots, my lips curling in amusement. The heels added about three inches to my height. I’d paired them with a sleek black dress with capped sleeves. It was professional and elegant. And it fit me like a second skin.

It also ended right where my boots began.

I hid most of the ensemble beneath a black peacoat, the wool hem almost reaching my knees.

Which helped me walk across campus without any issues. Of course, the heels weren’t the best shoes for the trek, but my feet had experienced worse.

I entered the classroom with my bag on my shoulder, my laptop inside for today’s presentation.

Carver grinned in welcome, having already found his seat. “You ready for today?”

I smiled. “You have no idea.”

I didn’t take off my coat. I’d save that reveal for my presentation.

Pierce ignored me again, taking on his repetitive role from the last few weeks. He hadn’t even wished me a happy birthday, something he usually did annually through social media.

I pretended not to care.

But I did.

I cared a fucking lot.

Maybe it was his way of distancing himself from me because of this class. However, it felt petty. Mean. Cruel.

And it made me angrier at him.

I wanted to rant and rave and demand that he see me as me. But reacting that way would only make me appear even more immature in his eyes.

So I’d ignored the slight, kept showing up for class while armed with information, and had bitten my tongue when he’d continued to act as though I didn’t exist.

“We’ll be going in alphabetical order by last name,” he announced now, telling me I would be near the end of the presentations.

That was fine.

I’d go out with a bang.

Emily was among the first to go, her last name of Avery putting her second on the list. She chose to focus on images for advertising, breaking it down by platform to discuss the varying sizes.

It wasn’t bad.

But she didn’t apply it to a specific industry, so I found it a bit lacking.

However, Pierce praised her. Because of course he did. He probably wanted to make out with her at a bar later.

I nearly rolled my eyes.

Was the whole relationship in my head? Yes. I’d seen him shut down her flirting a few times now. But it really irritated me how he showed her preference during class.

Carver spoke about ad language and using punchy marketing lines to engage in social media posts. He focused more on being friends with the consumers, talking in comments and putting them at ease—similar to how Pierce’s team always provided factual details.

It was a good application of the course material while also giving a nod toward Pierce’s profession.

Unfortunately, he didn’t appear all that impressed. Which was odd because Carver had one of the better presentations.

By the time it was my turn, my palms were slick and my belly felt weighed down by stones.

I swallowed. You can do this. It was about so much more than just applying what I’d learned. It was about proving my identity to the man who had captured my heart over a decade ago.

“Jenica Roberts,” he said, using my full name in a monotone. He didn’t look at me as he spoke it either, his gaze on his tablet.

I grabbed my laptop and stood, then wandered over to the podium to set everything up.

He still hadn’t acknowledged me with his eyes by the time I was ready to begin, something that irked me to no end. You had better at least look at me when I remove this coat, I thought.

“You can begin at your leisure, Miss Roberts.”

So that’s how it’s going to be. All right, then. “My presentation will focus on sex,” I announced.

And would you look at that? Pierce’s eyes are still dark green. Fascinating how a few words can make that stare come out to play.

I smiled at him, but it wasn’t a kind look so much as an arrogant one.

“Sex sells,” I continued, unbuttoning my jacket. “I’m not talking about porn or naked people, though. I’m talking about sensuality that’s both internet-appropriate and compelling to the consumers’ eyes.”

I shrugged out of my coat and walked over to lay it on my chair, fully aware that this gave Pierce an excellent view of my backside.

“But the key is making it personal enough that others can relate to you.” I returned to my laptop on the podium, completely ignoring Pierce. “It’s also important to understand where to add sexual advertising and where not to.”

I pulled up my first slide, showing an image of children playing with a well-known toy, and used that as an example of when not to use sexual advertising. It was common sense, obviously, but I started here and continued into more difficult marketing items for analysis.

Women’s running shoes—sex sells, but only when marketed correctly.

Video games—sex obviously sells because men are more visual than females.

Chocolates—clearly sexual in nature, unless advertising candy for children.

I went into a few others but really focused on the importance of knowing the audience and tailoring the sexual imaging appropriately. Not just to ensure that the consumer felt included in the experience, but also to pass the infamous social media bots that loved flagging nudity and “inappropriate content” in imagery.

Which led me to my final topic—my outfit.

“This dress is practically painted on,” I said, smiling. “But it covers all the sexy bits a bot would flag on social media, thus making it an appropriate marketing piece. Unless, of course, I posed with Carver in an indecent pose.”

“I volunteer,” he replied, his voice deep and meaningful.

I grinned at him and shook my head. “Only if the branding requires it, Carver.” Which was how I ended my presentation.

The class applauded as I packed up my laptop. Rather than put my coat back on, I left it off to make a point to Pierce—sex sells—and settled into my chair.

He looked at me for the first time in weeks, his expression unreadable.

Then he cleared his throat and called on the next student.

My heart sank. He’d offered feedback to everyone else in class except for me.

This silent treatment had to end. I’d taken his course like any normal student would. I’d done all my homework. I’d read every fucking piece of material he’d handed out. And he still wasn’t acknowledging me as an adult taking his class.

I’d stayed quiet about it because it was the mature option.

But his behavior wasn’t mature at all.

It was downright rude.

The rest of class went by slowly despite there only being five more people after me. However, it was the right amount of time to stoke my anger.

Especially as he gave all five of those students feedback again.

My jaw ached from clenching it so hard.

“Want to grab dinner?” Carver asked me as he stood, his gaze traveling over my dress with interest.

At least he sees me,I thought miserably.

I cleared my throat. “I actually already have dinner plans.” A lie. My only plans were to verbally beat the shit out of Logan Pierce. “Rain check?”

“If you wear that again? Sure.” He winked at me and gathered his stuff to leave.

I forced a laugh, the sound breathier than it should have been because of my mounting ire. Which probably sounded flirty to him. And any other day, it would be.

Carver Matthews was a handsome guy with his shaggy dark red hair and striking hazel eyes. He was a swimmer, too. That sort of body looked good sans clothing.

But a certain professor still captivated my attention.

Even though he clearly had no interest in me at all.

I waited for the last student to finish talking to him after class, the two of them openly discussing the feedback from her presentation.

Something that only made me angrier.

When she finally finished, Pierce started packing as though I weren’t standing there waiting to have a word with him.

The student left, the door closing with a finality that left us alone in the room like his first class.

“Are you seriously going to act like I don’t exist?” I demanded.

“Oh, I’m very aware that you exist, Jenica.”

My eyebrows lifted. “And that’s why you didn’t offer me a single statement after my presentation when you appraised everyone else?”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, still not looking at me. “My best friend’s little sister just gave a presentation about sexual advertising.” His green eyes were a shade darker as he finally lifted his gaze to mine. “Do you have any idea how uncomfortable that was to listen to?”

I gaped at him. “Why? Because you still see me as a child?”

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister,” he snapped back at me.

“I’m also a fucking person,” I retorted. “A twenty-two-year-old woman—because my birthday was a few weeks ago, FYI.” Not that he cared. “I’m majoring in the same damn degree that you did. I’m not a child. I’m not your sister. I’m a student, and I delivered a presentation that deserved to at least be commented on just like everyone else’s!”

I was shouting now, but I didn’t care.

This was ridiculous.

“I get that all you see is a child when you look at me, but that’s not who I am. And I thought my presentation would wake you the fuck up to that fact. Apparently not. Apparently, all I will ever be is a kid to you.” I shook my head, done with all of this.

I’d wasted so much time pining for a man who would never see me.

Maybe that did make me a child. A thirteen-year-old girl with a crush.

“Never mind,” I muttered, stepping away from him. There was no point in trying to make him realize something he would obviously never truly comprehend.

“Because you’re my best friend’s little sister.”

That was all I’d ever be.

It’d been stupid of me to take this class. Stupid of me to think I could wake him up. Stupid of me to even try.

“Have a good rest of your week, Professor Pierce,” I said formally, returning to my coat and pulling it on.

“Jeni…”

“Jenica,” I corrected him shortly as I grabbed my bag. “You could at least try to respect me as a student.” It came out as a quiet statement, my insides crumbling into pieces.

I needed to escape before I let those emotions cloud my expression.

He couldn’t know how I felt.

He could never know.

I just had to get over him.

While I’d tried the last few years to find someone else, I’d always held him at the back of my mind. A what-if scenario for when I graduated college.

But if this experience these last five weeks had taught me anything, it was that Logan Pierce would never see me as anything other than his kid sister.

So I needed to move on and stop craving someone I would never have.

He said my name again as I started toward the door, but I didn’t pause for him.

I was done trying to win his affection.