Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Crap.
I plaster on a smile, hoping I don’t look as flustered as I feel.
“Thanks, Logan. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She nods and disappears, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stand and grab my planner. Work. Focus on work. Gio Montagalo does not belong in this office, he does not belong in my head, he does not belong anywhere near my carefully constructed life.
Period.
You are in academia.
His face almost blew off when you said the word professor.
The memory makes me laugh, despite the serious tone of my thoughts. The way his jaw dropped, the way he blinked like I’d just told him I was an astronaut—it’s almost enough to distract me from how off-balance he makes me feel.
Almost.
I step into the hallway, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder as I head toward the department chair’s office. The sound of low chatter drifts through the corridor, and at first, I don’t pay much attention. But then I hear it—that voice.
I stop in my tracks, my heart skipping a beat.
No. Can’t be.
He wouldn’t.
I round the corner, and there he is, leaning on the reception desk like he owns the place. Elbows propped up, his signature smirk firmly in place, Gio Montagalo is chatting it up with the other student aide, who looks about two seconds away from swooning.
My brain short-circuits for a moment, caught somewhere between shock and disbelief. What is he doing here?
Gio looks up just then, and our eyes meet. His smirk grows wider, like he’s been caught but doesn’t mind one bit.
“Professor.” He winks at me, his booming voice carrying down the hallway. “Fancy running into you here.”
I blink, my feet frozen to the floor. What the hell is he doing here? “What are you doing here?”
The student aide—Paul—looks between us, his eyes wide with fandom.
Gio straightens his stance, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he steps toward me. “I thought I’d surprise you.”
Surprise me? My pulse kicks up, but I do my best to keep my expression neutral. “I have a meeting in, like, two minutes.”
“It’s not an important meeting,” Paul interrupts, eager to help. “I can tell Professor Casey you have a fever.”
“A fever?” I repeat, my head snapping toward him. “We are not going to lie to Professor Casey!”
Gio chuckles softly, clearly enjoying every second of this. “I like that plan,” he says, nodding toward the aide. “Thanks for having her back.”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This is not happening.”
Paul looks genuinely disappointed as he glances between us. “Are you sure you don’t want to bail? I can make it really convincing.”
“I’m sure we are not going to cancel on the department head one minute before the meeting,” I say firmly, though the corners of my mouth twitch despite myself.
Paul sighs, deflated—but Gio is undeterred. The man loves a challenge, it’s in his DNA.
“I can wait,” he announces, his voice too loud for someone who just invited himself into an academic building where people typically speak just above a whisper. He gestures to Paul. “He can show me to your office—I’ll occupy myself until you’re done.”
Occupy himself?! By doing what?!
“That’s not how this works,” I snap, turning my glare on him.
“It’s fine!” Paul says eagerly, perking up at the suggestion. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t touch anything!”
I want to smack them both.
“Paul,” I warn to no avail.
He’s already gesturing for Gio to follow him down the hall, like a student ambassador tasked with showing the new kid around campus.
I feel my defenses weakening.
“Babe, don’t worry,” Gio says, flashing me a grin that’s equal parts charming and infuriating. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Babe?
He’s calling me babe now?
What parallel universe am I living in!
“You don’t have a best behavior, I’m sure of it,” I complain under my breath, even though they’re already halfway down the corridor, in the direction of my tiny office.
I stand there for a moment, frozen in place, watching them disappear around the corner. Then, as if on cue, I let out the longest, most exasperated sigh of my life. Of course, this is happening. Of course, Gio has decided to insert himself into my Monday morning!
Why wouldn’t he?
By the time I drag myself to the department head’s office, my brain is spinning with all the possibilities of what kind of chaos he might be stirring up back in my workspace. Is he rifling through my desk drawers?
Rearranging my bookshelves?
Chatting up every passing student because he’s a pseudo celebrity?
The thought is equal parts horrifying and absurdly distracting.
Professor Casey is mid-sentence when I take a seat at his desk—exactly on time, no less—but I barely catch a word of it. Something about new policies? Budget cuts? It all blurs together as my thoughts spiral.
I force myself to nod at the appropriate times, jotting down nonsense in my planner to make it look like I’m engaged.