Academic Seduction [profxstudent][wlw]

Chapter Sixteen

Thursday;

Asha and I were parked under our usual spot beneath the oak tree, both of us with cigarettes between our fingers like we had nothing better to do with our lives. She had a lecture coming up in a bit. I, unfortunately, had something much worse. I had to spend most of the day in Sinclair's office. Again.

I already made peace with the fact that this would be my life for the foreseeable future. Sinclair hadn't killed me yet, so I took that as progress. Maybe I'd even push my luck and ask if I could study instead of sorting through more of her endless piles of paper. I was convinced she had a bottomless drawer somewhere just for busywork.

I flicked ash off the tip of my cigarette, exhaled slowly, and leaned back on one arm, letting the smoke curl out into the air. My brain was still half asleep, trying to hype itself up for another round of "Let's Pretend I'm Not Scared of Sinclair."

"She's still being tolerable?" Asha asked, watching me through narrowed eyes. She had that look on her face like she already knew the answer but wanted to hear me say it.

I shrugged. "Tolerable's a strong word. She hasn't ripped into me in public lately, so I'm counting that as a win. Emotionally damaged? Yes. But mildly less than last week."

Asha smirked and bumped her shoulder against mine. "Cute. A slow-burn abusive academic romance."

"Don't make me ash this on you," I warned, holding my cigarette just a bit too close to her thigh.

She laughed and pulled back. "Okay, okay. Jeez. No need for violence."

There was a beat of silence between us, comfortable and familiar. We watched students pass by, some rushing like they were late to something important, others dragging their feet like they were on death row.

Then, without looking at me, Asha asked, "There's a party Friday night. You wanna go?"

I turned to her slowly, one brow raised. "What kind of question is that?"

Asha gave me a look.

"Of course I wanna go," I scoffed, flicking my cigarette away dramatically. "What a silly little question. I need something to scrub Sinclair out of my brain."

"Fair. You better come dressed like a slut though," she said casually, taking the last drag of her smoke.

"Oh, I plan to. I might not have much control over my academic fate, but my outfit? Fully in my hands."

Asha grinned and stood, brushing the grass off her jeans. "Good. I'll text you the details. Try not to die under Sinclair's glare today."

"I make no promises."

She waved and jogged off toward the lecture halls, leaving me to finish my cigarette in peace and mentally prepare for another thrilling day of subtle power plays and me pretending I wasn't constantly on edge.

I crushed the cigarette under my shoe and straightened up, brushing my hand over my jeans like I'd just accomplished something important. I rolled my shoulders back, took a breath, and started muttering my usual pre-Sinclair mantra in my head. She secretly likes me. She definitely secretly likes me. I mean, come on. Who wouldn't? I'm a ball of gay sunshine with a decent sense of humour and a very tolerable work ethic. What more could a bitter middle-aged woman want?

Adjusting my bag on my shoulder, I started walking toward Sinclair's office, the weight of dread and delusion keeping me perfectly balanced. Halfway there, I heard a loud bang, followed by some dramatic muttering that immediately caught my attention.

I turned the corner and, as expected, was greeted by pure chaos. It was that same girl from last week. The one who attempted the worm in the quad and also destroyed a public restroom. There she was again, currently at war with a vending machine like it owed her money. She had both hands gripping the sides of the thing and was shaking it with such commitment, I was almost impressed.