Mr. Knight/A Jordan Knight Fanfic ✔️

15

15. connotation

My heart pounding nervously, I open the classroom door. The head of the room is empty, though most of the students are already inside. After trading greetings, I claim my desk and pull out my phone, bringing up the text message I received this morning.

Sent at 12:01 a.m., it reads, Six days is 144 hours too long. I'm still smiling at the words when the door opens and Jordan strides into the room.

"Good morning," he says, dropping his bag on the desk and facing the class. His eyes rest only briefly on my face, but the contact sizzles like a brand. "Who's up for a field trip today?"

The class murmurs enthusiastically.

"Where to, boss?" asks Terrance.

Jordan nods out the window. "Based on the painfully stale content of last week's journals, I'm thinking some fresh air is in order. Sun's out and winter's beauty abounds."

Groans mix with laughter. Molly raises her hand shyly, then blushes when James nods at her. "Do you want us to spend the time journaling, or just reflecting?"

His gaze snaps to me. "What do you think, Ms. Davis?"

I clear my throat. "With short stories due next week for midterms, I would strongly suggest taking advantage of the time to reflect on your drafts in a new setting. Maybe read them aloud to another classmate."

"In public?" whispers Molly.

Terrance says, "You can read to me, Molls."

Jordan smiles slightly. "Exposure and vulnerability are integral parts of being a writer. Good idea, Ms. Davis. Everyone team up and head outside. Find a place swarming with people and read your stories to your partner. Loudly."

More groans, but they do as he says, packing up and pairing off. When the classroom is empty, I ask suspiciously, "Do I sense ulterior motives, professor?"

Chuckling, he strolls toward me and sits at the desk beside mine. "Perhaps," he murmurs. "I did want to talk to you about a few things."

His gaze drops from mine and I stiffen. "Such as?" I ask softly.

"I wanted to give you advanced warning. I gave you a low B on your short story. The word count was low, and I thought the antagonist lacked depth. I'm sorry, I know you wrote it the week of your father's death, but—"

My relieved laughter halts him. "Jordan Dan, it wasn't A-material. Don't worry about it."

He sighs, tension releasing from his shoulders. "I thought you were worried about your GPA. God, I felt horrible."

I reach forward and grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Stop. We can't go down this road. And no one cares about GPA at this point. They care about letters of recommendation and writing portfolios."

He nods, but frowns slightly. "I thought you wanted a PhD."

My skin tingles. "How do you know that?"

"You told me Saturday night," he says gently. "The promise to Derrick."

Squeezing my eyes closed, I wait for shock to fade. I take a deep breath. Then another one, until the world levels out again.

"Sorry, I, uh, don't remember telling you that," I finally say, opening my eyes to his intent gaze. "I promised Derrick I would go past a Bachelors, that's it. Sure, we joked about me being Dr. Davis—like people assuming I could do surgery when really I'm just awesome at writing papers—but a PhD isn't on the table for me."