Chapter One

Blaine

My red pen scratches against the typed paper sitting in front of me while the professor I'm paired with drones on about American history. It's information I already learned years ago when I was still an undergraduate student. Now that I'm in my last year of my master's program, I could probably teach this class in my sleep.

It's difficult to focus on anything, and it isn't just because the subject matter feels like common knowledge at this point. Sitting two rows ahead of me is the strongest distraction I've ever encountered. Julie, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, is bent over her notebook, scribbling down notes. Every few minutes, she moves her long blonde hair behind her shoulder, but it's so silky that it always falls back in her way.

I've been staring at her back for half the semester, dreaming about making her mine. I don't even know if she knows my name. I've caught her watching me on her way in and out of the classroom, though. At the very least, she knows I exist.

It doesn't really matter. I'm not supposed to be interested in the undergraduate students, so it's probably for the best that we rarely converse. I can't let my lust get in the way of my degree. Still, I only have the remainder of the semester before those rules will no longer apply to me, and that knowledge has fueled many shameful masturbation sessions.

I force those thoughts out of my head and look back down at the page in front of me. While the professor talks about one of the many conflicts in our history, I correct dates and spelling. Honestly, it's a wonder that some of these students have made it into this class. There are prerequisites. You would think they'd at least care about what's being taught.

When I finish with all of my corrections, I move onto the next essay in the stack and smile at the name on the top: Julie Nolan. It's obvious that she's passionate about history, and reading her work is always a treat. She does her research and offers perspectives that I hadn't considered before. I glance at the clock, making sure I have time to read through the paper in its entirety before I get started.

As I go through it, I don't find anything to correct. The only time I raise my pen is to mark the strong arguments she makes. It's a refreshing break from the last piece I graded. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was a paper written by someone on my level instead of an undergraduate student.

I finish working my way through it with about five minutes left in class. Since I want to end this session on a good note, I decide to go back to watching Julie. Her lithe hand practically floats over the lines on her notebook page. I can think of several better uses of that beautiful part of her body.

After ten more minutes of instruction, the professor wraps the class up. While the students pack up their things, I don't bother with mine. Sometimes there'll be questions, and I want to be able to give them my full attention. Even though I'm distracted by Julie, I'm still passionate about the subject matter. If any of the students need help, I'm more than happy to assist them.

Today, most of them walk past me without so much as a second glance. I guess it makes sense. Their next paper isn't due for two weeks. Questions don't usually roll in until a week out from the submission date.

To my surprise, I do get one student coming my way. Even more surprising, that student is Julie. She has a shy, yet determined look on her face, and her chocolate brown eyes are sparkling with something I can't quite place. She gets close enough that I can see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

God, I wish she wasn't technically one of my students.

"Julie," I say, giving her the most professional smile I can muster. "I just finished reading your last paper. It's very insightful."

"Really?" she asks, her cheeks going pink as she practically glows with the praise. "I thought it was just okay."

"That's nonsense," I tell her, handing her essay back to her. Technically, I still need to put the grade in the computer, but I doubt I'm going to forget her perfect score. "It was a pleasure to read."

"Oh," she mumbles, flipping through it in front of me. Her eyes skim through my comments and a small smile plays on her lips. "I'm glad to hear it. I actually wasn't sure if it was very good."

"It's excellent," I assure her. The two of us are quiet for a beat, and I decide to prompt her by saying, "Did you have a question?"

"I did, actually," Julie says as she turns her backpack around to store the paper inside. "I was wondering if you offered one-on-one tutoring. I'm a little lost on this unit."

"Really?" I ask, doing a poor job of hiding my surprise. It's hard to believe that she's having trouble with any of the subject matter. Sometimes I think that she has a better grasp on some of these events than I do.

"Y-yeah," she replies, sounding like she wasn't expecting any sort of pushback. "I don't know why, but this is just tricky for me."

"I'm more than happy to help if you need it," I say, realizing that this is a perfect opportunity to spend time with her. I'm about to suggest we meet at a coffee shop like I usually do when a student wants tutoring, but I stop myself. Maybe she'd be amenable to something more private. "I don't have an office for office hours, so we'll have to meet off campus. You could stop by my place, if that works."

Almost immediately, Julie says, "That's perfect! When are you available?"

"I have a class tonight, but I should be able to find time for you tomorrow evening," I say as I scribble down my phone number and address onto a scrap of paper.

"That works," she replies as she accepts the page from me, glancing at it before putting it in her pocket. "I work tonight anyway."

"You work at Lucky's, right?" I say, hoping that I don't sound like a creep for knowing that. It's not like I followed her. Lucky's is the only place close to campus with consistent food specials, and I've gone with a few other people in my master's program. "I think I saw you the last time I ate there."

"I do," she confirms, ducking her head as though embarrassed to be caught at work.

"I get it. When I was getting my undergraduate degree, I worked in one of the food courts on my alma mater's campus. It was far less glamorous than working at a restaurant," I say, catching the professor's eye and cursing the fact that I'm technically at work. I'd love to carry on this conversation, but I can tell my "boss" has something he'd like to discuss. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"For sure," she says, giving me a brilliant grin and revealing dimples on both of her cheeks.

As she walks out of the classroom, I know that I'm beyond help. Talking to her only makes me want her more. After a conversation with the professor, I head to the library to get started on grading the newest stack of papers he's handed me. I don't really get much done, though. I'm too absorbed in my thoughts about making Julie mine and using our tutoring sessions to win her affections.

Fuck the rules that are in place. I'll figure out how to get around them. The only thing that matters is getting Julie.