5. Grady

Ispotted Cameron immediately as I entered the lecture hall on the first day of class after winter break. He sat on the third row back with a bigger, stockier blond guy, their heads bent looking at something on their phones and laughing. Outside of the diner, he appeared even more ease. Content and in his element. Remembering the considerably more carefree days when I was in college sent a wave of nostalgia washing over me as I set my shoulder bag on the desk and pulled out my laptop.

Even after years of teaching, the start of a new semester gave me a shot of optimism that lasted at least as long as it took the first few students to shuffle in with zombie levels of enthusiasm after the holidays. I smiled as they came in, prepared to spend the next hour attempting to resuscitate their interest in academics and reviving them from the food and alcohol coma in which many of them had spent the last month.

Psychology of Decision Making was arguably my most popular class and incidentally the one I enjoyed teaching the most, even if it didn't attract the more academically-minded sociology and psychology majors. Because it was such a popular course, most of the students who got in were happy to be there, and I worked hard to make it a respectable mix of informative, engaging, and tough.

It also helped that it wasn't an 8:00 a.m. class.

After some haggling with the department, I'd managed to score one of the social sciences building's lecture halls so I could open the class to more people, and while it wasn't quite as large as the hundred-plus freshman course I taught, I'd increased the size from thirty students to seventy-five with the last-minute acquisition of a TA, Paul, who assisted me with grading, compiling quizzes and tests, and such.

When I glanced up after pulling out my laptop, Cameron caught my eye and gave me something akin to a smile crossed with a smirk. The expression struck me as just shy of brazen—perhaps meant to highlight he'd not been late. I gave him a subtle tick of my chin in return and then scanned the lecture hall as students continued to file inside. From the looks of it, most had gotten the memo about showing up to class on the first day or losing their spot, and after I'd called the room to order, I went down the attendance sheet and compared it to the online check-in portal on my laptop. Only two no-shows. Not bad at all.

I set the list aside and parked my ass on the edge of the desk, facing the students. Cameron's friend kept sneaking glances down at his phone, and he wasn't alone in that. Doodling on notebooks had been replaced by flicking a finger at a screen, but Cameron's eyes were on me, his gaze attentive, his posture loose. He wore jeans and—I darted a look down— a beat-up pair of Vans, along with a long-sleeved tee that had probably never seen an iron. Imagining him pulling it out from a drawer full of other balled-up T-shirts made me smile for some reason.

I was starting to see John's point of view. Cameron was startlingly attractive, as was his friend. Then again, I hadn't been paying much attention to guys back in my college days. Maybe I'd had far more options back then than I'd realized.

I dragged my gaze away and moved on, going over the course syllabus, test schedule, and general expectations—all the things that typically made the students' eyes glaze over.

Time to snap them back to attention.

I picked up my attendance sheet and chose a name at random. "Glenn Smith?"

"Sir?" A stoner-looking kid with shaggy brown hair raised his hand.

"Are you familiar with the show Breaking Bad?"

Glenn's eyes became slightly more focused as he grinned. "Fuck yeah, amazing show." And then, catching himself, he tacked on an apology for the profanity.

"Alright, so how about a little true/false question? Walter White demonstrates an example of sunk-cost fallacy with his illegal enterprise. True or false?"

Glenn squinted thoughtfully before replying, "Uhhhh, false?"

"Well, let's think about the show. As it progresses, so, too, does Walter's criminal activity, even as the risks and consequences escalate, because he's already invested so much time, money, and effort into it. So I'd argue that it's true. But we'll cover sunk-cost fallacy more in depth later. Good reply."

"Thank you, sir." Glenn offered me a pleased grin in return.

I went through a few other names, asking leading questions that would touch on concepts we'd be covering during the semester, and then, on a whim, I turned my attention to the third row. "Cameron Taylor?"

Cameron raised his hand, an impish twinkle in his eyes. "Right here, Professor."

"True or false: the availability heuristic is the tendency to overestimate the importance of information that's readily available."

"True," he said without hesitation.

"Correct. It's a cognitive bias. Care to give an example?" Normally, I would have ended the line of questioning after the student answered correctly, but I was curious to see how he would respond if I dug deeper.

Cameron rubbed his jawline, squinting one eye thoughtfully, which somehow made him more attractive. "Ummm, maybe Netflix could be an example? Or hookup culture."

"How so? What's your line of thinking, can you expand?" My interest was piqued. Every now and then, I got a smart-ass answer to these questions and, occasionally, some academically-minded students who knew what they were talking about. I wasn't sure how to categorize Cameron yet.

Cameron shrugged one shoulder, that loose half grin still on his face. "Okay, so with Netflix, you might end up picking a show or movie that's been heavily promoted or that's on the trending feed, even if it's not the best option for you or what you actually like. It just seems like a good choice because everyone else is talking about it, and it's right there in front of you with that little popularity ranking at the top. From personal experience, I suggest no one watch Pennies for Sorrows unless you're in the mood to be gutted. I had to watch SpongeBob for, like, half an hour after just to recover."

Laughter bubbled up in the lecture hall, and I offered Cameron an amused smile. "Duly noted. Adjacent to that: would your recommendation against Pennies for Sorrow be considered availability bias?"

"No, just personal anecdote, I think? Though I guess I've got a captive audience right now." He chuckled, and I gestured to the class at large.

"How many of you who haven't seen the film are now going to seek it out based on Cameron's succinct but illustrative review?"

A good twenty or so people raised their hands, and I grinned at Cameron, delighted he'd succeeded in engaging the class in a way that was often challenging as a professor. "Noted, and we'll come back to that, as well." I addressed Cameron again. "And how about hookup culture?"

"No, thanks," he joked to more scattered laughter and a few whoops.

"I meant as an example of availability bias, not your personal preference." I could have sworn a hint of pink appeared on his cheeks, but Cameron was, once more, quick to recover.

"Between dating apps and social media we've got tons of options at our fingertips. In theory, of course," he tacked on when someone in the back told him to speak for himself. "Someone might overestimate the importance of a casual hookup or one-night stand because it's available and seems like a good idea at the time, even if it doesn't necessarily lead to a meaningful connection or long-term satisfaction."

"Sounds like post-nut regret," the blond guy next to Cameron chimed in with a chuckle.

"Bluntly, yeah." Cameron joined in the laughter. "I was just trying to say it in a safe-for-work way."

"Topic for a different class," I quipped back to more laughter and then returned my attention to Cameron. "Anything else?"

"I think I'm done."

"Thank you. That was enlightening." My lips quirked. He appeared to be a blend of both smart-ass and smarts, which I could appreciate. "With availability bias, one thing to keep in mind is how much weight we give to these readily available options and whether they truly align with our values and goals. But let's put a pin in that topic for now. We'll revisit it later in the semester and see how it holds up." I glanced down at my watch. "I think that's about enough for today. See you Thursday."

After class dismissed,I headed back to my office to return a missed call from my agent.

"Grady, hey, how are you? Did you get my message?" Cooper always sounded like he'd done a line before answering the phone. It'd thrown me off when we'd first started working together. He'd been the only agent who seemed interested in my take on decision biases and behavior patterns, and I'd been initially skeptical that it would even sell, but he'd gotten me a deal with Horizon Press sooner than I'd expected. He was both insightful and frank about what I considered my life's work so far. "I got the message. I was going to pretend ignorance until you started harassing me, though, and, well, here we are."

He chuckled amiably. "So, you'll be able to work that chapter in expeditiously?"

"How expeditiously?" I didn't disagree with the editor's idea to slot in an expanded chapter on decision fatigue, but I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to turn it around quickly and where to start. I needed a hook, and so far, I hadn't come up with anything provocative.

"A couple of weeks, three tops? They're still keen on publishing in September, and they're wanting to start booking promo soon. I told them no problem because I know you're good for it. I'll have some proofs and covers for you by then, too."

Fuck. I was going to have to ramp up my research. "I can do it, no problem," I assured him, determined not to let this opportunity slip through my fingers due to a random hookup temporarily scrambling my brain. It'd be stupid not to with the deal I had on the line. I'd just have to make the time.

"Good. Let me know when you've got something. The press is gonna eat you up. You're nerdy enough to be relatable, hot enough that I could see the PR department pushing for talk show spots."

I stiffened reflexively, thinking about my recent clandestine—and uncharacteristic—encounter, then forced myself to relax. I'd done nothing wrong. A consensual hookup in a club bathroom wasn't a scandal, and there was no way whoever was on the other side of the wall had seen me. He'd probably already forgotten the encounter, even if I hadn't, even if I was more than a little curious about who had been standing on the other side of the wall. I'd racked my brain trying to remember any defining characteristics, but I'd been too flustered with arousal. I hadn't forgotten his touch by a long shot, though, or the confident, firm glide of his hand on me.

Cooper cleared his throat. "So we're all set, then? Three weeks max?"

"Three weeks max," I confirmed, pushing thoughts of my stranger aside and coming back to the present. "I'll let you know as soon as I've got it drafted."

"Great. Chat soon," Cooper said and ended the call.

I tossed my phone on my desk and leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out what the hell I'd title this new chapter. I could spout studies and statistics all day, but ask me to come up with a catchy title and I'd spend a year agonizing over it and still not be satisfied.