One Perfect Professor Page 3

  “Wow,” I said. “Nerd alert.”

  Nate laughed as he pulled the novel out of the new, miniature book pile that had formed. “I’m not afraid to own up to it,” he said, and winked at me. I felt my heart jump up in my chest as the current situation became a reality in my head. I was alone, in Nate’s apartment, and would probably be here until the wee hours of the morning, at least. And Adam had no idea.

  “Do you have any ideas for a thesis yet?” Nate asked, and I was suddenly aware of how stupid I must look to him.

  “No idea,” I said, picking at a nail. I really hadn’t been paying any attention the past few lectures, what with Nate’s stupid, distracting face being right there next to me.

  “Well what do you want to write about?” Nate asked. “What parts of the book stood out to you the most?”

  “Dick Diver,” I said. “I think he’s a unique protagonist.”

  Nate giggled. “Dick Diver” he said, and started laughing.

  “Very mature,” I said, playfully yanking the book away from him. “What kind of TA are you?”

  “A very, very bad one,” he said, and the glint of mischief in his eyes sent a sudden wave of heat through my body. The moment broke, and we continued on with business. “Well I think the best way to go about this paper then, is to look at the connections to Fitzgerald’s own life,” Nate said. “At the center of the novel is a philosophical struggle that we see in a lot of books from the Modernist period.”

  “Which is?”

  “Well, in the riches of the Jazz Age and the steep fall of the Depression afterwards, the big moral debate these books posed was one of what kind of man was better—a rich man of wealth and position, or a poor man of good character.”

  “Interesting,” I said. I couldn’t help but think of Adam and Nate as the representatives of these two opposing sides. Adam had always only dreamed of money and power, and had never worked for the wealth and position he already had. Nate worked two jobs along with being a teaching assistant and lived in the cheapest apartment he could find, but he had a passion, I realized. These stacks of books were not so much of a deliberate mess as a side effect of his all or nothing dream of an academic life. I hated how good Nate was looking right now. The longer I spent with him, especially in his apartment, which was so reflective of his essence, the more attractive he became to me—this man who had such an unrestrained passion for all he set his sights on.

  “Let’s work on that then,” Nate said, “We can do a thesis about what a good life meant to someone in the twenties, vs. the thirties, and relate it back to Fitzgerald’s own life, and so on. Does that sound good?”

  “Perfect,” I said. “Thanks again.”

  “Of course,” Nate said, picking up his copy of the novel and handing it to me. “Why don’t you find some quotes from the novel you can use, and I’ll go through these books and try to find some outside research.”

  “Cool,” I said, and opened the book, pretending to concentrate. The words clouded in front of my eyes as I tried to calm the excitement that was racing through my veins. I was alone in the apartment of a really hot, really smart, and really sweet guy...one that was showing genuine interest and attraction to me. I could see a sofa across the room and a futon spread across the floor through the open door to the bedroom. It would be so easy, and so good, to just—

  “What about this quote?” Nate said, thankfully interrupting what was about to turn into a probably very dirty thought. “This letter from Fitzgerald to H.L. Mencken in 1925? The quote about the Saturday Evening Post? I say we do a paragraph on...”

  I was so antsy I could hardly focus. I was torn between an unfortunate urge to push Nate onto the sofa and an overwhelming feeling of horrible guilt. I interrupted, figuring I had better stop whatever was happening here in its tracks before it was too late.

  “I really hope I get this paper in and on time,” I said as nonchalantly as I could. “I have a dinner with my boyfriend’s parents this weekend and I’m already stressed out enough about that.”

  I grimaced as I saw Nate’s eyes widen, and then sink into disappointment. “That sucks,” he said, and then turned towards his book.

  I swallowed, feeling guilty for not mentioning this oh-so-important fact earlier. “So I was thinking of maybe incorporating this quote where—“

  “So who’s this guy you’re with?” Nate said with a tone that could almost be called accusatory. “He must be pretty great if you’ve committed to him so young.”

  “His name is Adam,” I said with a lump in my throat, terrified to look up from my notes. “He’s a business major and we’re getting married after graduation.”

  “Cute,” Nate said, and I could tell he was sort of pissed.

  “What, is there some sort of problem?” I said, suddenly feeling defensive.

  “No,” Nate said, wringing his hands. “It’s just...you’re so smart, and you have so much potential. Your life could go in some crazy direction after you graduate. You could end up in charge of a company in Tokyo or Switzerland or something. You’re going to meet all sorts of fascinating people, people who are just as driven as you are. And you already think some guy from your hometown is just...it? It just seems like...”

  “Seems like what?” I said angrily.

  “It seems like you’re limiting your options, that’s all.” Nate said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You’re probably right.”

  Nate looked up, surprised.

  ***

  Two hours later, it was midnight, and my essay was actually developing into something that made a bit of sense. I had my paper outlined and about half of it written, while Nate supplied any research I needed. Our awkward discussion regarding Adam had thankfully fallen into the background, forgotten.

  Our attraction to each other? Not so much.

  Even after mentioning the fact that I had a boyfriend, there was still an atmosphere of considerable sexual tension in the air. The tiny argument had done nothing to dampen my growing attraction to Nate, or the way I kept catching him staring every few seconds. We were driving each other crazy.

  “My back is killing me,” Nate said. “You mind if I sit on my futon? I’ll leave the door open so you can call if you need me.”

  “Sure,” I said, and watched as Nate walked into his bedroom and unceremoniously plopped onto his futon, which was still covered in laundry. Messy people were usually one of my biggest pet peeves, but Nate’s adorableness and work ethic seemed to make up for it. He probably didn’t have much time to clean and organize, I figured. I yawned. This was usually the time I went to bed, but it would have to wait today.

  “You have any more caffeine?” I called in to Nate.

  “There’s some tea and a kettle in the kitchen!” he yelled back, and I clambered over to the kitchen, or, more like a kitchen area, and found a packet of earl grey tea and a Bart Simpson mug.

  As my tea steeped, I began to budget out my time. I would need maybe three hours to finish my paper, four, if I wanted it to be really good. I barely knew Nate, and I had already pissed him off by waiting to reveal relationship status. Maybe I should get going soon, before I start to piss him off more. So what if we couldn’t date? I still craved his admiration and approval.

  I brought my mug of tea and laptop into Nate’s room and motioned towards the futon. “May I?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Nate said, sitting up. He still looked wide awake.

  “How are you not falling asleep?” I asked. “It’s nearly one a.m.”

  “What kind of college student are you?” Nate said, laughing. “I usually don’t fall into bed until two, at least.”

  “I don’t know how you live,” I said, scooching over closer so he could see my laptop. “With all your work and school and reading, you must be a living zombie.”

  “That’s what coffee is for, my dear,” he said with a smile, and at the my dear I felt a shiver run under my skin. “I have to drink c
offee and tea all the time anyway, to keep myself from freezing in this stupid apartment.”

  I had noticed the temperature earlier, but luckily, I had been too busy and too nervous to care. I pulled my sweatshirt tighter around me and gripped my mug for warmth. I couldn’t wait to be back home under the covers in my dorm room. I was already getting sleepy.

  “I need to look at the research for the fourth paragraph,” I requested, stifling a yawn. Nate handed me his laptop and I skimmed the word document in front of me with bleary eyes. I must have read the same sentence four times before I realized that I was so tired I could hardly understand a thing. “You know what,” I said. “Let me just close my eyes for a second. Then I’ll be able to work. Just like ten minutes.” I put down my mug of tea, figuring I could microwave it later.

  “A dangerous game,” Nate said, smirking. The tiredness washed over me and took me under like a dark spell from a fairy tale, strong enough for me to forget the fact that I was falling asleep on Nate Wilson’s futon...and that probably meant something.

  ***

  The sleepiness you feel when falling into sleep has never felt as good as the sleepiness you feel upon waking up. I was surprisingly comfy, even though I could feel the warm metal of my closed laptop under my cheek. I had pulled all of the sheets towards myself sloppily, and lay in a tangled blob snuggled up against...

  Nate.

  Nate!

  I sat up as quickly as possible and stared over at Nate, who was lounging on his back on the other side of the futon—and noticeably had a massive erection tenting his pants. Which was probably morning wood that had nothing to do with me but ohmygod ohymygod...

  I felt heat rush to my face as I put together the facts. The clock said it was ten a.m.—fuck, it was ten—and I had a paper due at two. I had about three hours to finish it, which was hardly enough time. I vaguely remembered deciding to take a brief nap last night with the foolish notion I would wake up ten minutes later.

  I nudged Nate slightly on the arm until his eyes opened. “Hey,” he murmured. “What time is it?” I watched him quickly pull the sheets up over his legs, covering his arousal.

  “What time is it? What time is it? It’s ten, Nate.”

  “Oh, whoops. I meant to wake up earlier, I should have left you a note about...”

  “My paper, Nate. What about my paper?”

  “It’s done.”

  I stared at him, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, it’s done?”

  “Well, you completely conked out last night...I tried to wake you up after your nap...but you were not having it, I mean, you were out. And I’m a night owl, and an English grad student, so I just finished it up. It was pretty easy for me compared to the papers I have to write now, so don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Oh god,” I said, putting my face down in one of Nate’s pillows.

  “There’s still time to look it over if you need to make any changes,” Nate said.

  I groaned. “It’s not that, it’s just...” I bit my lip. “This feels a lot like cheating.” I grimaced at the double entendre.

  Nate shrugged. “Well, technically it is, but you still wrote a good eighty percent of the paper...I just added the finishing touches, that’s all.”

  “It still feels wrong,” I said.

  Nate laughed. “It’s too late now. And you don’t strike me as the kind of girl who would risk a bad grade on a paper.”

  “I guess not,” I said. “Perks of sleeping with your TA...in the most literal sense, I mean.”

  A blush rose up on Nate’s cheeks. “I know how Professor Morris likes his papers. You’ll be fine.” He paused for a second, as if he were looking for the perfect thing to say to sum up this strange, awkward night, and seemed to find nothing. “I’m gonna go get dressed,” he said. “Go ahead and look the paper over and print it out, grab something to eat, and I’ll see you in class.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “Thanks Nate, for everything.”

  “It was nothing,” Nate said, blushing again and meeting my eyes, as a silent understanding passed between us—

  It was certainly not nothing.

  ***

  I walked straight to the library from Nate’s apartment to print out my paper for class. I was pleasantly surprised with the final results as I pulled the file up on the library computer. The paper was mostly my work, in the end, but Nate had spent a couple of hours polishing it up in a few places and incorporating his research. I felt less guilty about turning it in now. I walked over to the printer to collect my paper, and then hopefully this whole thing would be over and done with.

  “I should have known I’d find you here,” came a lilting voice from behind me, and I nearly jumped when I saw Cristina. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Long story,” I said, grabbing the stapler.

  “Eliza said you didn’t come back to your dorm last night, and Adam said you weren’t with him either, so what’s up? We were worried about you.”

  “I was working on my paper,” I said.

  Cristina looked a little bit pissed, or possibly just nosy. “Of course you were working on a paper, you’re Sabryna, but where were you working on your paper? The library closes at one.”

  “I was at my TA’s apartment,” I muttered. “It’s not like that though. It was purely work related.”

  “Not the hot one from Morris’s class?” she prodded, and I nodded.

  “Damn!” Cristina said. “Look at you go!”

  “I’m with Adam Sabryna. I’m not interested in the least.”

  “Well you should be!”

  “Does commitment mean nothing to you?” I laughed. “In all seriousness though, it was a purely academic kind of thing. I promise.”

  Cristina rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said, and laughed. “Does Adam know where you were?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “But he’ll understand, right?”

  Cristina made a face. “Let’s figure out the best way to tell Adam.” I was surprised by her response and I felt a knot form in my chest. I wasn’t used to keeping things from Adam, but maybe Cristina had a point. It wasn’t worth risking everything Adam and I had over him finding out about one accidental sleepover. An innocent accidental sleepover, I tried to convince myself.

  Chapter Six

  I was nervous about going to Modernist Lit today. My paper was under control, yes, but whatever the hell was going on with Nate certainly wasn’t. There would be a strange understanding between us when we walked in today...we were more than acquaintances now, and there was no going back from that.

  I purposely showed up as late as I possibly could without being technically late, so I could avoid any awkward conversations with Nate. What would I even say to him after last night? Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed?

  I sat down in my desk at two o’clock on the dot, and Nate was still, thankfully, nowhere to be found. Professor Morris began an anecdote about James Joyce that we had heard two times already, and five minutes later Nate showed up. He smiled at me as he walked in, and slid into the seat next to me. Not the usual desk one away from mine, but the one directly to the right of me. I felt heat rush through my body, and a hint of panic too.

  It killed me how comfortable Nate looked. He sat in the seat next to me like he absolutely had the right to be there, and leaned back in his seat as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was like he was presuming I wanted him to be there, and something about that itched at my pride.

  When the lecture ended, Nate let out a yawn and turned to me. “Catch up on sleep yet?” he asked, staying rooted in his seat as the rest of the students filed out.

  I glared at him, reprimanding him for bringing up the events of last night.

  “What?” Nate said. “What is it?”

  I sighed. “What happened last night...well...it doesn’t look so good from the outside...you know what I mean?” By this time, we were the only people left in the lecture hall.

  Nate looked
suddenly offended. “Well, you know what Sabryna, what you have doesn’t look so great from the outside either.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I haven’t even known you a month, Sabryna, and I already know you better than your boyfriend ever will,” Nate said.

  “Adam is a great guy.”

  “Sure,” Nate said, shaking his head. “Sure, he’s a great guy, and he’s super nice, granted you put down your own dreams and ambitions so he can live his mediocre life.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, feeling a lump form in my throat.

  “Are you sure?” Nate said. “Because from what you told me, it sounds like he’s trying to hold you back. And I can’t let that happen. You can’t let that happen.”

  I stared at Nate, dumbfounded by the brazenness of all he had said. “This isn’t your place to interfere,” I said, as tears formed in my eyes. “Like I said, you don’t even know me.”

  “Okay fine, maybe I don’t,” Nate said. “But what I do know is that you’re smart, and you’re driven, and that you were made to do great things. And I can’t let some guy you met in high school hold you back from that.”

  “What is this about?” I practically yelled, beginning to lose my temper. “Do you like me or something? Is that what this attack on Adam is about?”

  Nate sighed and looked down at his feet. “Whether I like you is not the point,” he said. “Maybe what you should think about is whether you like yourself.” Nate picked up his bag and went through the door. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and then he was gone.

  ***

  I made my way to Adam’s dorm that evening after dinner, ready for an evening of relaxation that would hopefully put my mind back at ease, and away from all of the Nate stuff. We had Back to the Future playing on the TV in the background while we cuddled on Adam’s bed, snacking on cheese quesadillas we had made in his microwave. In this moment, things were feeling refreshingly normal.

  “Hey,” I said, turning to Adam. “So like...how can Marty cease to exist by interfering with his parents relationship if he has to exist to go back and interfere anyway? How does that make sense?”