𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐘

[10] Lecture Me

l e c t u r e  m e
COVEY'S POV:

When Conrad finishes up his lecture, he walks straight out to his office across the way. And then he slams the door. Nope, he doesn't just shut it like a normal person. Okay then.

I scurry out of the classroom before he decides to say, 'Just kidding, drop and give me a hundred pushups,' and I go out to the food court in search for some chicken nuggets. If I'm gonna go apologize, I need a peace offering. 

After twenty minutes of waiting in line, getting the food, eating a couple of the golden nuggets myself, and walking around campus like a lost puppy, I make my way back to the lecture hall. I gulp once I get to his office, knocking on the door lightly.

"The door is closed for a reason," he grumbles, clearly still upset. 

The way his icy voice sends a warning signal goes unheaded and I knock again. "Professor—"

"No."

"Professor Monroe," I say patiently, inhaling and exhaling to the best of my abilities. My chest is definitely constricting. "Let me talk."

Roughly, I hear the sound of a chair scoot out and the door opens to reveal one hot-looking-hunk-of-a-mad-professor. "Come in," he deadpans, glaring down at me with those stormy eyes of his, a whirlwind of a tornado entwining me. 

I step into his office, everything neat and pristine, shutting the door behind me. "I—I got you chicken nuggets?" I say, dangling the bag, unsure how to start this. He doesn't look very friendly right now.

He takes them and sets the bag on the filing cabinet next to him. "Listen Cove, I told you that you can't call me Coco Puff here," he says, his stare dangerously scary as he stands a good six-feet away from me. "It's fine and quirky when it's just us, but this, this isn't working here."

Hey, people make mistakes. It was a happy little accident, right Bob Ross?

"And the class?" he goes on, running a hand through his thick and luscious black hair. "I'd like to feel respected by them. I'd appreciate not getting laughed at. So tell me, Covey, what the fuck went through that brain of yours?"

"I wasn't thinking, Coco—"

"Bingo. That's the fucking issue," he seethes, stepping a foot closer to me. "You never think. You never bite your tongue and just think. Not about your words, not about your actions, and definitely not about how your lack of self-control can affect other people's lives."

The audacity he has to say such things.

"So what do you have say to that, huh?" Conrad gives me a look of confidence, mockery even. "Do you have another one of your stupid comebacks?" He steps closer and closer, the inches of space between us getting shorter and shorter.

This time though, a cat's got my tongue and I really can't think or talk.

Conrad clenches his jaw so it's taut. "Say something, Covey."

But I can't think.

I can't formulate a sentence as his dark eyes pull me into a trance. The way his pink and plump lips curl with every word. I can't think.

So I kiss him. I reach up and grab his jaw with both my hands and kiss him for a solid three seconds, my body pressed up against his as my heartbeat quickens.