Page 27 of Head Under Water

“No, I couldn’t.” Actually, I don’t know if that’s true, but I don’t think it is. “Banks isn’t my professor. He’s not even a professor. You’re being so ridiculous. And why do you care, anyway? If I get kicked out, at least you won’t have to see me anymore. I’m surprised you’re not begging me to sleep with him so we can finally be rid of each other.”

His throat bobs with a swallow, and he looks away. His eyes flick slowly from one building to another, then up to the sky and across the horizon. “Yeah, well, as much as I would love that, your mom wouldn’t. And somehow, they’d blame me.”

“I’m willing to take that chance.”

He looks back at me, his eyes hard now, searching. “Of course you are. You’d love it if they blamed me.”

I quirk my brow. “Icing on the cake.”

His lips twitch, and he stands, taking my hand to tug me forward. “Anyway. Gene needs us. Don’t you check your emails? Let’s go.”

“For what?”

“Does it look like I know?”

Pulling my hand away, I move past him. “It doesn’t look like you know how to tie your shoes or put on pants, but you always manage to surprise me.”

He jogs to catch up, cutting a look my way. “Let me know if you ever need a tutorial. Happy to help the less fortunate.”

Without another word, we move across campus and find Professor Gene in his office. He looks up from a stack of papers, lifting his glasses from his face. “There you two are.”

“Sorry,” I say, still out of breath from trying to keep ahead of Will. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” he says, reaching for his laptop. “But I hope you don’t have any plans next weekend. I need you to go to a conference for me.”

“Which one of us?” I ask, my body a sheet of ice.

He stops typing for a brief moment, eyes moving between us. “Well, both of you, ideally. Will that be a problem?”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PRESENT DAY

A week later on Friday, during the daily announcements, Tonya includes me with the birthday shoutouts. Half of my students’ jaws drop. The ones who were paying attention.

They wait until the announcements are finished before Alex, a boy near the windows, speaks up. “Ms. Sullivan, it’s your birthday today?”

“It sure is,” I say gently. “And it’s Kennedy’s birthday.” I gesture toward the little girl seated near the center of the classroom. Her pink dress has a “Birthday Girl” pin attached to the front of it. “We should all tell her happy birthday.”

They do, in chaotic unison.

“My birthday’s in July,” Daniel, a kid in the middle of the front row, announces proudly when the room quiets down.

“Birthdays are very special,” I confirm.

“How old are you?” Brett, near the back, asks.

“You’re not supposed to ask that to old people,” Tiffany points out from the second row.

I stand from behind my desk, both hands raised. “Thank you very much, you guys. Birthdays are always exciting, but you know what else is exciting? Telling time. So, let’s all get out our practice workbooks.”

There’s a collective groan, and Kennedy raises her hand while her classmates work to retrieve their books from inside their desks.

“Yes, Kennedy?”

“Happy birthday, Ms. Sullivan. I don’t think you’re old.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of my throat. “Happy birthday, Kennedy.”