The Girl Next Door
Chapter 31

"Is there anyone who hasn't outlined their paper yet?" Dr. Hayes asks at the end of class. Her dark gaze slides over the sea of students before coming to rest on mine.

Between my football schedule and cracking the books, I've been buried. I've jotted down a few ideas, but it hasn't progressed any further than that. I'll admit to dragging my feet on this. Have I mentioned how much I hate writing papers?

With the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns.

I really need to pull the trigger and get some words on paper. It's already mid-September. The semester is flying by, and football will only ramp up in intensity the deeper we get into the season. Most of the professors at Wesley are pretty cool when it comes to allowing me to hand in assignments a few days late or rescheduling a test if it conflicts with an away game.

And why shouldn't they be?

Everyone knows that the football program brings in the big bucks. And big money means that these professors can fund their research projects. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. No one wants to bite the hand that feeds them. Devon elbows me in the ribs. "Dude, professor hottie is totally checking you out."

"Huh?" I try not to pay too much attention to what comes out of Devon's mouth. It's ninety-percent bullshit. Both on and off the field.

"Dr. H, dumbass. She's been checking you out the entire hour."

Sometimes I wonder if Devon has taken one too many hits to the head. Concussion testing has clearly failed him.

"You are seriously one lucky bastard," he continues when I fail to show the appropriate amount of enthusiasm. "Dr. H is the scholarly version of Jessica Simpson. And we all know how I feel about her."

Unfortunately, we do. I was hanging out at his house last year and walked in on him spanking the monkey to thoughts of her. It was a permanently scarring experience. I can never un-hear those groans again. Even thinking about the incident makes me shudder. As soon as Dr. Hayes dismisses us for the day, I pack up my computer and immediately beeline toward Mia. My plan is to leave after practice on Friday evening, and I want to make sure she hasn't changed her mind about hitching a ride.

I know there's not a snowball's chance in hell of that happening, but I gotta ask, right?

Plus, it's another opportunity to talk to her. And I'll take whatever opening I can replace.

"Beck," Dr. Hayes calls out, "would you mind sticking around for a quick chat?"

Damn.

The look of relief that floods Mia's face as she scampers from the room hits me where it counts. Right in the old ego.

"Sure, no problem." I swing around and head back to the front of the room.

Dr. Hayes flips through a few papers before glancing at me as the lecture hall empties. I never really noticed it, but Devon is right. She does bear a strong resemblance to Jessica Simpson with her blond hair, deep brown eyes, and curvy body. I shake that thought from my mind and focus on what's being said. The sooner I can get this over with, the quicker I can get out of here.

Maybe I can catch up to Mia.

Not that she'll wait around.

"I wanted to check-in and talk about the progress you're making on your paper," she says.

Well, s**t.

I shift my weight and come clean. There's no point in lying. "I haven't started writing it yet, but I've narrowed down the topics."

She raises a brow. "All right, I suppose that's a start."

I flash her a grin, and my muscles loosen. "I've been meaning to get moving on it." Actually, I was hoping Mia could give me some direction. That's part of her TA job, right?

"Let's start with your top two choices and see if we can get you on the right path."

"Sure." I grab my notebook from my backpack before flipping through the pages. "The first topic has to do with the long-term effects of concussions on football players." I glance up to see how that subject has resonated. When she nods, I continue. "And the second is compensating athletes at the college level."

With a thoughtful look, she tilts her head. Her bangs slide over her eyes, and she lifts her fingers, tucking a thick lock of hair behind her ear. "Hmmm, those are both interesting choices."

Relief flows through me that she's on-board with the themes I'm considering. "I'm not sure which one would work better."

"There's a lot of research available regarding concussions and helmet testing. So, my advice would be to go with that one." "Yeah," I admit with a nod, "I was thinking the same thing."

Great.

When I shove my notebook into my backpack, Dr. Hayes lays her hand on my forearm. Surprised by the contact, my movements falter. I glance at her fingers before staring at her in question.

"Don't run away yet." Her lips curve into a smile. "I spoke with Coach Taylor last week. He mentioned how important it is for you to keep your grades up, so you don't get benched." She steps closer. "I told him I would work closely with you to make sure that doesn't happen." "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Her gaze stays pinned to mine. "I have to admit that I'm always impressed with the athletes we have on campus. It's not easy to balance academics along with athletic responsibilities. That's a lot of stress and pressure to deal with."

A strange prickle of unease blooms in the pit of my belly, but I quickly brush it away. Under normal circumstances, when a woman touches me and stares at me like I'm a juicy steak, I'd assume she was flirting, but that can't be. Dr. H is my professor. "It's nothing I can't handle."

I'm oddly aware of her fingers draped across my forearm. It's like they're burning a hole through my flesh. When I remain silent, she flashes another smile and leans toward me. The way she angles her body gives me a straight shot down her blouse. I have to be a good ten inches taller than her. Even though I'm not trying to peek down the front of her shirt, it's hard not to notice the generous swells of her breasts.

"Just know my door is always open if you need help with English or any other subject. I'd be more than happy to help you."

Umm...

"Thanks." I pause, wishing she would remove her hand. "If anything comes up, I'll let you know."

"Please do." The way she continues staring only heightens my unease. "I've worked with several athletes over the years, and it's always been a rewarding experience for both of us. I wouldn't have a problem reaching out to your other professors and asking for extended deadlines on your behalf. Most are accommodating, especially if they know a student is working closely with a colleague."

This has to be the strangest convo I've ever had with a teacher.

Not to mention, most uncomfortable.

I can't decide if she's talking strictly about academics or not.

Either way, this conversation has left a strange pit sitting in my gut. I'm probably reading something into the situation that isn't there. Dr. Hayes is a beautiful woman. My guess is that she doesn't need to troll her classes to get laid. She's probably got guys lined up around the block.

I'm definitely making a mountain out of a molehill.

When she lifts her hand, the unease dissolves and leaves me feeling like an i***t.

"Why don't we plan on getting together later next week, and we'll discuss your progress. That way, I'll know you're on track." Her lips lift. "How does that sound?"

"Sure, that works."

"My goal is to give you the necessary tools you need to be successful. Not only at this university but in life."

"I appreciate your help." I'm a dipshit for questioning if there were ulterior motives at play. Dr. Hayes is just being friendly. She obviously goes above and beyond for her students.

"If you have any questions, my contact information is on the syllabus."

"Yup." I hitch my backpack higher onto my shoulder before taking a step in retreat.

"Here, just a minute." She grabs a small pad of paper and a pen before scribbling something down. Then she tears the page off and holds it out to me. "That's my cell number. Usually, it's only available to my grad students, so please don't give it out." I take the paper and look at her name and number. "Thanks."

"It's the quickest way to get ahold of me."

I glance at her before stuffing the scrap into the front pocket of my jeans.

"If you have any questions, shoot me a text. Even if it's to talk or unload. All right?"

"Yeah," I mutter, feeling weird again, "thanks."

She picks up her sleek black briefcase. "Well, I need to get to my office. I'm meeting with a group of graduate students to work on their thesis."

"Okay." I inch away from her. The more distance I put between us, the better I feel. I lift my hand into a wave. "I'll see you on Friday."

She winks. "If not sooner."

I jerk my head into a nod.

And then I'm gone, taking the carpeted stairs two at a time before pushing out through the lecture hall doors into the empty corridor. Once I'm there, I expel the breath from my lungs, not realizing I'd been holding it.

Am I nuts, or was that woman coming on to me?

My guess is that I'm losing it. There is no way Dr. Hayes was flirting.

It's all in my head.

It has to be.