The Professor

Chapter Twenty-Four | Missing

I follow Clarissa to a coffee shop that—thankfully—isn't Starbucks. We queue silently for our drinks and I choose this time to careful plan what I want to say to her. A lot is riding on this conversation and I can't afford to mess it up.

"Shall we sit by the window?" I ask, gesturing towards a small table tucked away in the corner.

It's raining outside, the weather seemingly matching my mood.

"Sure," she agrees, taking her hot chocolate over.

I wait until she's comfortably seated before I begin. "Clarissa—"

"You don't need to explain," she assures, cutting me off. "You're both adults."

"But he's my professor," I argue. "He could lose his job if people were to find out."

"Make sure people don't find out then," she quips, smirking.

She casually takes a sip from her hot chocolate as though we're not currently discussing how me shagging my teacher could have huge repercussions.

"I love him," I blurt out, needing her to know this isn't just some spare of the moment thing.

She nods. "I knew you weren't just homesick," she replies.

"How did you know I—"

"Jeremy told me," she explains. "I knew it had to be more than that. You looked heartbroken."

I smile, silently impressed by her observation skills.

"So, what did he do?" she asks, gazing at me.

I hadn't noticed it before, but Clarissa has the most unique set of eyes. Turquoise blue with elements of green.

"What most men do," I say. "Freaked out when things got serious."

"Did he break up with you?" she questions, growing concerned.

I love that she feels the need to protect me in this situation.

"Yeah. Kinda."

"It looked like he'd changed his mind back there," she says, smiling.

I laugh. "That was stupid. We shouldn't have done that."

"Probably not," she agrees, briefly looking out the window.

I follow suit and stare at the thick rain pounding off the cobbled streets.

"Wait! The graffiti. Does someone else know?" she asks.

"That's not about us, apparently."

"Who's it about then?"

I shrug.

Clarissa—being as smart as she is—must sense this has something to do with our breakup and doesn't press for more information.

"Look—Sloan—you were the only person who stuck up for me that first day," she begins, smiling. "As far as I'm concerned, you're not doing any harm. I've seen your assignment feedback and I know he's not giving you special treatment."

James publishes all feedback sessions on the Facebook group we all follow, claiming it to be educational. He swears we learn most through other people's mistakes.

"Your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone."

I relax a little. "Thanks, Clarissa. I really appreciate that."

"On one condition..."

My stomach sinks, hoping she doesn't demand anything too ridiculous.

"Help me find a dissertation topic. I'm fucking panicking!"