Feral: Part One by Arisa Baumann Read Free Book Online

clear of any subject that could lead back to the Humanities instructor.
     
    I managed to avoid Madison in the halls before and after our second class, and thanks to Brie’s misdirection and the constant flood of students crowding the popular wing, I successfully slipped away without being caught up in her alternating intrusive questions and scathing insults. I considered it an Olympic feat, because the girl was like a leech: once she wanted something, she sank her fangs in and held on for dear life while she drained you of yours.
    I drove my car toward the back end of the farthest parking lot, and my eyes widened at the sight.
    Waiting there for me was a sleek, black coupe that looked like it cost a good three or four of my old Focus. The sunlight gleamed off the polished hood, making the surface appear like a fathomless lake of silver. And though I was by no means a car aficionado, even I could appreciate the smooth lines and overall beauty of the magnificent machine.
    I briefly wondered how he could afford it. I mean, I was sure with a doctorate and a masters, and teaching in a well-regarded university, he made more money than, say, my old high school teacher Mr. O’Cleirigh, but it still was a relatively expensive car.
    I followed him all the way to a close, but nearly-abandoned, old shopping complex.
    He was right. The likelihood of anyone, student or otherwise, being there was almost nil.
    I parked behind him, and let my eyes drift over the car as I climbed out. “What kind of car is that?”
    His smile was instantaneous. “That is an Audi S5 coupe.”
    “So it is as expensive as it looks,” I said dryly.
    “Indeed.”
    He offered me his elbow, and almost instinctively, I slipped my hand into the crook, staggered at how fluid and natural my response seemed . It shouldn’t have felt so easy though, I mentally argued with myself.
    I pushed the thoughts aside at once. If I were going to make it through this lunch with any grace, not to mention my sanity intact, I was going to have to stop the quarrelling between my logic and my surprising draw toward his being. I was determined to make it through this, and once I had done so, I would simply tell him that while I appreciated the camaraderie, I believed it would be best to not continue our acquaintanceship in such a manner. I was a student after all, and he a professor of the university I attended.
    Even as the thoughts swirled in my mind, I felt a twinge of… despair?
    You’re being ridiculous! I growled to myself. He’s a professor, and you hardly know him. It’s a crush, and you’re letting it get out of hand.
    I thought you weren’t going to argue with me.
    That stopped me cold, and I decided then and there I’d call my shrink when her office opened, first thing Monday morning, because I was losing my mind. Literally. I had to be. It was the only thing to explain my ridiculous infatuation with this man and my new habit of arguing with myself.
    Despite my continued internal warring, lunch was fantastic. He had been right. The food was beyond delicious, exquisite actually, and the golds, reds, and browns of the dining room were satisfyingly inviting.
    The little hole-in-the-wall was owned by a couple, Calogero and Ermina Barsetti, who appeared to be in their late sixties. They had four children of whom they were very proud and all of whom apparently turned out to be as good at cooking as their parents. They also had two Bolognese dogs named Beast and Mitzi.
    I couldn’t help but smile and laugh with the couple. They were as charming as the food was delicious, and I found myself hoping that perhaps Simon would ask me to come back sometime for a second lunch, as highly inappropriate as it was. Sadly, I had to banish those thoughts, and tried to ignore the pang I felt in my chest as our meal drew closer to its end.
    “Doctor Treviso—”
    “Simon.”
    I felt a distinct thrill, stronger than the first time he had urged me to use his given name, fill me and