Change of Course (Change of Hearts #3) - Sierra Hill Page 0,2
yet, I feel something missing because I have no one to share it with.
With a deep sigh, I gather my tablet and paperwork for my first class and head down the corridor toward the lecture hall where I’m about to begin a class for third-year students on Modern and Contemporary Design. It’s a curriculum I developed for those in various art and design programs here at the university.
Stepping into the lecture hall, I take a glance up into the theater, where rows and rows of students begin filing in, carrying laptop bags and phones in their hands as they find their seats.
I read through my roster of students, quickly identifying that I should have fifty-five in the class, and begin to call out for a quick attendance check and introduction.
“Good morning, students. I’m Professor Mathiasson. If you’re here for Modern and Contemporary Design then you’re in the right place. If you have no clue what that means, then you should probably Google it or get the hell out of my classroom.”
There’s a rumble of chuckles through the theater, and I grin at the response, seeing two students quickly file out as inconspicuously as they can.
“This class studies the history of design from 1800 to present day. It will introduce you to the ideas that have driven design in the modern era. It won’t be an easy class that you can skate through. I expect you to show up, pay attention, do the work and walk out of here with more than you came in with.”
I survey the class, giving them a firm look of disapproval just to scare the bejeebies out of those that think this class will be a cakewalk. I may be a nice guy and a good professor, but I don’t allow slacking in my classes.
Pressing my back against the lecture table, I hook an ankle over the other and take a look down at the tablet in my hands. “Okay, let’s do some quick introductions. When I call your name, you’re going to tell me why you’re in my class this semester.”
I do a quick scan of the room and see eager faces, which is a good sign.
“Anabella Smith. State your purpose.”
A young, bright-eyed girl with a blonde pixie-cut stands and introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Anabella and I’m here because I had to fulfill my elective requirement to graduate.”
There’s a low buzz of laughter across the span of the room, and I raise a brow. At least she’s honest, I’ll give her that.
“Thank you, Miss Smith. I appreciate your candor. Let’s hope you’ll learn a little about art history as the semester progresses and you can impress people at parties at the very least.”
We continue to go down the list alphabetically by first names until I reach the K’s. Kahlil. Kallie. Kelly. Kendra. Kyler.
My brain sputters and stalls, as if the breaks were just thrown on as it careens down a steep hill, my body following along with the rushing speed of a boulder. I reach behind me to grab the edge of the lecture desk to steady myself.
No, it can’t be.
Kyler Scott.
When I dare to glance back up at the room in front of me, I see him casually stand from the second to back row, his longish chestnut brown hair flopping to the side of his face, covering a portion of his forehead. A forehead that I know from personal, up-close experience is dotted with a canvas of freckles.
His devastatingly cocky grin is split wide across his angular face, his full lips parted in that sexy way of his as if he has a secret he wants to impart.
And oh, hell, does he ever have a secret.
A secret about me and the one night we shared together this past summer.
It was a night I’ll never forget and the one that made me a glutton for punishment, hoping and trying to get more out of him. Reducing me to a needy beggar.
But he staunchly refused to see me again, stating he was a “one-and-done” kind of guy and wasn’t up for seconds even though I worked hard to change his mind.
Oh, the irony of it all. Kyler Scott never wanted to see me again. Yet, funny how the world works and allows for fate to step in.
Not only is he here in my classroom as my student, but we also found out earlier in August that we shared mutual friends when we both showed up to my godson’s fifth birthday party.